In a moment of weakness or heretofore invisible inner strength, I was coaxed into going on a hut trip in the backcountry of Aspen this weekend without having any idea what in the name of Davy Crockett I was getting myself into.

Full disclosure: I’m a city boy, bred and buttered on the streets of Manhattan.

Here’s what that means: the country is great, but after a couple of hours it gets on your nerves. Oh and by the way, I’m scared shitless.

We leave Saturday morning and come back Sunday in time for the Super Bowl. And I have no idea what I’m doing and I’m scared. Maybe it was when my friend Ted started telling me about the avalanche beacons and the avalanche field. I’ve never been across an avalanche field and I had no intention of tripping the snow fantastic now.

“Do I want to go first,” I asked Ted, “or last?”

For me, this will be “City Slickers” in snowshoes—if I’m lucky. I have camped out exactly four nights in my life: one night, unforgettably, on a slope under a lean-to with mosquitoes, and three nights in the luxurious embrace of a Dream Outdoors fly fishing trip on the Gunnison River, which almost doesn’t count. This will be my fifth night in the wild. It might be my last.

The other night, at dinner with my friend Nick, he was showing me pictures and telling me how great it is to camp out while we were eating the elk he had shot dead in close proximity. He might as well have been Steven Hawking telling me about black holes. I had no idea what he was talking about.

So why go? Because I’m an idiot who feels that it would be a sin to go to Colorado, live there for five years, hear all about the Tenth Mountain Division and hut trips, and never have the guts to give it a go.

Don’t get me wrong. These hut trips in Colorado are pretty plush, with things like heat and food. I’m going with seven other guys and the two I know, Ted and Mike, are good guys. We’re going to eat steak and fries and beans for dinner and oatmeal and eggs for breakfast the next day. I’m bringing dessert.

I’m sure in the hut men are men and life is good. Ernest Hemingway take note and take notes, wherever you are. This city boy will never be quite the same.