101 words for snow vs. my gut
as i left work today, it was 35 degrees and raining--a very disappointing event at elevation 6700 ft in January. However, the rain was nearly weightless, and as i gazed up at Hogsback Mountain, a mere 300 feet above me, i saw snow clinging to its zigzagged spine. by the time i reached county road 204, the snow had accumulated my windshield. hooray. perhaps i can ski out my front door tomorrow...
i got to do such a thing last weekend. along with six old and new friends, i rented an old miner's cabin ((built 1889) in the San Juan Mountains near Red Mountain Pass (elevation 11,200 ft) for a weekend back-country adventure. as we planned it, the trip seemed very low key-- but the day when we were meant to leave brought on many challenges, particularly for this cat at the keyboard.
first off, there was snow, soft and sticky, alluring and mischievous, falling from the sky at daybreak. as word came from the drivers, we would not be leaving Durango for our drive into the now "chains-only" territory of Red Mountain Pass until 5 pm--a.k.a. after-dark. I looked at the forecast: more snow...high winds...temps at -11 F. my hands balled to fists; my stomach shrank; my hair raised. this did not feel okay.
i immediately berated myself. "wimp!" the voice sneered. "what are you afraid of? what makes you think you're not tough enough to handle a little wind-whipped cold?" but despite the jeering, i came back to the same conclusion again and again: i couldn't go under these conditions. on a physical, bodily level, every cell declared agreement, particularly those in my feet, where, once cold settled in, it would not be eradicated for hours (and, yes, i have witnesses to the stark-white wax museum quality of my flesh--absent of all capillary action--when it's been exposed to unmanageable temperatures).
at first i made everyone else on the trip blameworthy and stupid--john didn't know what he was doing, mari didn't know how to say NO to her boyfriend, brian was unreliable in the realm of thinking things through, and Sarah was just beyond sensible. I was the only logical, sane person in the bunch! right?
No, i should go. Come on, Foster, get your shit together and JUST DO IT. leave your brain out of it.
(but i AM leaving my brain out of it--once i stop blaming everyone else for their choice to go, i see that I just don't want to go under those conditions. my body, my experience, my sense of having a good time and NOT having to prove myself all tell me that i don't have to go).
so, i bailed, and found out that 5 others had also bailed, but that i could catch a ride up in a 4x4 the next morning.
i did. and we skiied that mile into the hut under full sunshine, with plenty of warmth and wherewithal to find our way, and we had a fabulous time. (I did learn that the folks who drove up in the weather had a challenge or 3 getting in--which they finally did, at 10:30 pm in the dark, wind, and snow-filled sky). upon arrival, we all commenced in wine-drinking, snowshoeing and telemark-turning through the fresh snow-laden mountain side. we tried not to get freaked out by the ancient "red-rum"-whisper of the mining lodge near our hut; instead, we played Uno and Trivial Pursuit in the heat of the woodstove and the light of old kerosene oil lamps. the snow made crystals on the windows and halos around the moon, and we left slippered footprints between the door and the outhouse (where, in order to keep our asses from freezing, we had to brush the layers of snow from the toilet seat). the morning revealed a confection of snow only a baker could grade.
tomorrow, i'll see what the sky has left me. perhaps i'll ski out my front door to the meadow across the lake; perhaps i'll brave the roads and go to yoga. it depends on what my body tells me, because even if i can qualify the conditions with words and numbers, all that really matters is what my intuition has to say. and i'll trust my gut over my vocabulary anyday.
The Hut where we stayed, and some certain measurable amount of snow; or, Fun! Fluff! Sun! Snow angels!
i got to do such a thing last weekend. along with six old and new friends, i rented an old miner's cabin ((built 1889) in the San Juan Mountains near Red Mountain Pass (elevation 11,200 ft) for a weekend back-country adventure. as we planned it, the trip seemed very low key-- but the day when we were meant to leave brought on many challenges, particularly for this cat at the keyboard.
first off, there was snow, soft and sticky, alluring and mischievous, falling from the sky at daybreak. as word came from the drivers, we would not be leaving Durango for our drive into the now "chains-only" territory of Red Mountain Pass until 5 pm--a.k.a. after-dark. I looked at the forecast: more snow...high winds...temps at -11 F. my hands balled to fists; my stomach shrank; my hair raised. this did not feel okay.
i immediately berated myself. "wimp!" the voice sneered. "what are you afraid of? what makes you think you're not tough enough to handle a little wind-whipped cold?" but despite the jeering, i came back to the same conclusion again and again: i couldn't go under these conditions. on a physical, bodily level, every cell declared agreement, particularly those in my feet, where, once cold settled in, it would not be eradicated for hours (and, yes, i have witnesses to the stark-white wax museum quality of my flesh--absent of all capillary action--when it's been exposed to unmanageable temperatures).
at first i made everyone else on the trip blameworthy and stupid--john didn't know what he was doing, mari didn't know how to say NO to her boyfriend, brian was unreliable in the realm of thinking things through, and Sarah was just beyond sensible. I was the only logical, sane person in the bunch! right?
No, i should go. Come on, Foster, get your shit together and JUST DO IT. leave your brain out of it.
(but i AM leaving my brain out of it--once i stop blaming everyone else for their choice to go, i see that I just don't want to go under those conditions. my body, my experience, my sense of having a good time and NOT having to prove myself all tell me that i don't have to go).
so, i bailed, and found out that 5 others had also bailed, but that i could catch a ride up in a 4x4 the next morning.
i did. and we skiied that mile into the hut under full sunshine, with plenty of warmth and wherewithal to find our way, and we had a fabulous time. (I did learn that the folks who drove up in the weather had a challenge or 3 getting in--which they finally did, at 10:30 pm in the dark, wind, and snow-filled sky). upon arrival, we all commenced in wine-drinking, snowshoeing and telemark-turning through the fresh snow-laden mountain side. we tried not to get freaked out by the ancient "red-rum"-whisper of the mining lodge near our hut; instead, we played Uno and Trivial Pursuit in the heat of the woodstove and the light of old kerosene oil lamps. the snow made crystals on the windows and halos around the moon, and we left slippered footprints between the door and the outhouse (where, in order to keep our asses from freezing, we had to brush the layers of snow from the toilet seat). the morning revealed a confection of snow only a baker could grade.
tomorrow, i'll see what the sky has left me. perhaps i'll ski out my front door to the meadow across the lake; perhaps i'll brave the roads and go to yoga. it depends on what my body tells me, because even if i can qualify the conditions with words and numbers, all that really matters is what my intuition has to say. and i'll trust my gut over my vocabulary anyday.
The Hut where we stayed, and some certain measurable amount of snow; or, Fun! Fluff! Sun! Snow angels!
posted by amy at
6:33 AM
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