What a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air was calm. You needed three pairs of sunglasses to cut the glare on all that snow, but otherwise, the mesa looked inviting. Well, if you were a sled dog.
By the time I’d gotten myself psyched up to head out into the cold, the breeze had picked up. In fact, there was now an official wind advisory. How did that happen? This made me waver, but I soon followed through. My layered outfit worked just fine, despite the occasional 30 mph gusts that blew clouds of powder off the trees. Instead of tall snow boots (which I didn’t have anyway), I wore my normal hiking shoes. They’re waterproof and have good grip. The old Gore-Tex pants I dug out of my hand-me-downs cache came down over the tops of the boots, and I never once felt snow on skin. Amazing.
Snow art by God
It was hard going, though. The snow cover varied quite a bit, but there was plenty of it, about a foot or more, and deeper where the wind had piled it into drifts. I really needed snowshoes or skis.
I crunched along, sinking into invisible holes. It was unspeakably beautiful everywhere, and probably dangerous. The air temperature was in the teens as the sun was going down: break a leg, lose the cell phone in the snow, and no one was going to need a doctor. Clean, white, bright. Pure air. No human sounds except my grunts and wheezes. The view to the horizon may have been 100 miles.
This is how it’s supposed to be. When I walked back to the house an hour later, I found I wasn’t tired. In fact, I had more energy than before I started out the door, despite having to slog through virgin snow all the way up and back.
I don’t know how they do that, but it’s good to know it works.
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great post john – i enjoyed every word and what a great photo. thanks for sharing
david in maine