Did a quick voice check of everyone in the other three snowcaves, and then settled into ours. Had the usual candle in a can (a source of heat and light, and also serves as a canary to tell you if your oxygen is getting low). It was starting to snow. Brought a small shovel in with me, and used the handle to reopen the air holes.

To keep dry, I laid a plastic tarp on the berth on the right, and then sidled the sleeping bag inside, like a taco. I had one of our cloth bags, with down fill. Too heavy for a backpacking or horsepacking trip, but fine for this outing. And warm.

I judge the cold by how far I have to zip this bag up. Summertime, it is usually open down to the waist, or even the knees. Likewise when I was sleeping in the living room with the masked heeler. Been on a couple winter campouts where the sky cleared and we got bitter cold. Had the bag zipped to the top and held shut around my head on those.

In the snowcave, it was comfortable being zipped below the shoulders. Had to be close to forty degrees in there.

The light flickering off the candle in its can made the cave seem like a fantasy world. Kinda neat. Voices from the neighboring caves were muffled, and soon quit.

While the cave was warm, and the snow was probably the best mattress you could hope for, I did not sleep well. Lots of catnaps, waking briefly to check that the candle was still burning. Re-opening the airholes. By midnight, the new snow over the holes was too deep to push through. A check with the mini-maglite confirmed the holes were covered up.

Kept having this horrible thought of waking up and finding some of my charges asphyxiated in their caves. But ours was probably the most airtight of all.

By midnight I had another problem.

I needed to pee.

No way was I going to get out of this warm bag, get dressed, and crawl through that snow-filled doorway to relieve myself. I was prepared.

One of the sports drink bottles I keep on check station duty. Unzip the bag a little bit, roll to the side, and voila, the bottle is half filled. And I'm still warm (or at least, most of me). Oh, the advantages of being male. And in a cave by yourself.

At 02:30, woke up to find the cave dark. Dark, dark. No candle light, and certainly no starlight though the covered air holes. But I woke up, which means the air is okay. The candle had simply heated the can enough to tip, and all the wax ran away from the wick. Lit the spare candle, and then filled the sports drink bottle to the top. (You have to drink a lot of fluids in our low humidity, especially in the dry winter air. And most of that has to come back out.)

Woke again around five o'clock. With a full bladder, and a full sports drink bottle.

Forget about low oxygen or carbon monoxide. This is a problem.

Too early to get up. Can't go into the lodge without waking a bunch of grumpy, cold people. But if I get dressed and crawl out to take care of business, there's not much point in getting cold and wet and then coming back in here, with sunrise coming soon.

I notice the fluid in the cold sports drink bottle has separated. A thin cloudy layer on the bottom, a yellow layer to midway, and the the top half was perfectly clear. If I remember my anatomy stuff correctly, this top half should be almost pure water.

Good enough for me. I'm desperate.

Punched a drain hole in the wall (not toward anyone else's cave) with the shovel handle, poured the clear fluid down the hole, and filled the drain with snow. And then filled the bottle again.

Also noticed the candle had melted a narrow chimney up one wall and through the ceiling to the night sky. Looked up to see a couple stars. No more worries about oxygen.

Slept like a babe until after sunrise.