The Devil kept me awake.

Until that night, nothing had ever prevented me from falling asleep.

But I call him The Devil for a reason.

No mere mortal could have created the horrible razor-blade rasping, louder and more dangerous sounding than a chainsaw grinding granite. These superhumanly loud honks gestated in mucus lungs and were birthed in nostrils of rusty steel.

The worst part was, Alvaro and I had been divinely relaxed. We were on a coastal vacation and decided to treat our fatigued muscles to a soak in a mineral spring hot tub after three straight days of climbing. We returned from our soak revived, relaxed and primed for a refreshingly hard sleep.

When I stepped out of my car, the vaccuumous snorts emanating from the tent behind ours ripped my eardrums. I thought, “This guy has got to be faking, that noise is so ridiculous.”

But the sound continued. At irregular intervals. That was what made him The Devil.

Sleepy, I nestled in my virginal tent. For a few blissful moments: beautiful silence. Several times I almost fell asleep. Then “whoooaaaaaaoooonnnnnkkkkkk!” erupted from the gates of Hell.

The terrifying noise scared me awake. I thought some bloodthirsty demon was attacking. Adrenaline snapped me conscious – over and over. The ensuing pauses allowed me to drift away until: “whoooaaaaaaoooonnnnnkkkkkk!”

Filled with drowsy rage, I wiggled out of my warm sleeping bag, rushed out of my tent and stood next to his, pondering yelling, “Roll over! You’re snoring!”

But I had a hunch that the tent from Hell might also contain a brawny She-Devil with no qualms about knocking me out. From the sound of his honks, he was a meaty monster, and I had no doubt his woman would be the same – and enraged I would dare to call out her man.

After a couple hours of trying to fall asleep, I abandoned my new tent, gathered my sleeping bag and crawled into my little car. I put the front seat as far down as it could go. However, even my short legs were cramped. But the boxed quietude allowed sleep to come.

For what remained of the night, I wiggled my curled legs this way and that, trying to get comfortable.

Impossible. But at least I could sleep.

Finally, the sun came up. I rolled down the window to see whether The Devil yet trumpeted his demonic nose horn.

Silence.

Ahhh, perhaps I could catch an hour or two of sleep fully sprawled out in my tent.

Then ...

“Whoooaaaaaaoooonnnnnkkkkkk!”

Hell’s bells! Literally.

I passed back into a couple fitful hours of cramped car sleep.