I slogged upward, deep in hour three of a snowshoe outing that usually takes two hours. Too stubborn to turn around, I was reduced to a simple formula: walk one hundred steps, stop and breathe, stare in frustration at the slope ahead. A victim of not enough food brought along, I was in the stages of an epic bonk.
But it was a gorgeous day, the sky a deep blue, no wind in sight, and no people anywhere. I knew that a thirteen mile snowshoe would induce cries of NOPE from my friends, so I went alone. Sometimes I just need to bust out something hard.
At first a snowmobile track perked me up considerably. I'm not a huge fan of snowmobiles. Back in the day, I rode them for work and we were constantly getting them stuck, having to haul out shovels and free ourselves. They're loud and some riders don't exhibit a lot of etiquette. However, they can be useful for speedy walking. I hoped against hope that one of them had broken a trail to the top of the mountain.
Alas, it was not ..
I slogged upward, deep in hour three of a snowshoe outing that usually takes two hours. Too stubborn to turn around, I was reduced to a simple formula: walk one hundred steps, stop and breathe, stare in frustration at the slope ahead. A victim of not enough food brought along, I was in the stages of an epic bonk.
But it was a gorgeous day, the sky a deep blue, no wind in sight, and no people anywhere. I knew that a thirteen mile snowshoe would induce cries of NOPE from my friends, so I went alone. Sometimes I just need to bust out something hard.
At first a snowmobile track perked me up considerably. I'm not a huge fan of snowmobiles. Back in the day, I rode them for work and we were constantly getting them stuck, having to haul out shovels and free ourselves. They're loud and some riders don't exhibit a lot of etiquette. However, they can be useful for speedy walking. I hoped against hope that one of them had broken a trail to the top of the mountain.
Alas, it was not to be. I arrived at the gate to discover solid, deep snow. As you may recall, I recently attempted this hike and turned around due to the snow. This time, I wanted to make it to the top.
I've hiked, run, and snowshoed up this old road so many times that I know where all the landmarks are. The place where an old trail takes off into the basin. The second emergency phone box. The place where you think you are to the treeline but it turns out you aren't. I've never hiked with headphones but I could see the appeal as my trek turned into a slog. I was wearing short snowshoes, not the best choice for deep snow, and the 4,000 foot climb seemed to go on a lot longer than it usually did.
But I pressed on. It was Saturday, and even though I needed to do a whole host of chores, it was easy to decide to put them off. The sun was warm enough that I shed all of my layers down to the base. I also drank all of my water and ended up scooping up snow.
Arriving at the place where the road breaks out of the trees, I discovered a new wrinkle. The road had disappeared! There has always been at least an outline of it in the past, but instead the snow spread across the mountain in blank white. Trying to stay on where I remembered the road to be turned out to be impossible–it was too crusty and looked like a one way ticket to the bottom. Sighing, I headed straight up.
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| Not a great picture, but after slogging up there I wanted a record of my success. |
Finally I staggered to the top, and like always, it was totally worth it. The wilderness spread out before me, shrouded in snow. It was deeply quiet and the sun was so warm that I lay on some exposed rocks, turning my face up like a plant.
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| Finally some bare ground! I basically collapsed here. |
Getting to the top of the mountain is only halfway, though, and I knew I had to force myself to go down. Acquiring a blister, I marched along, thinking of only one thing: the couch. For some reason, this hike had kicked my butt.
My friend called me the next day. She had gone skiing on another mountain. "It was really hard for some reason!" she said. "And I've been skiing all winter!"
Maybe there was something in the air? I have rarely been so tired during an adventure. "I can't move," I whined, forcing Jerry to bring me dinner (he is nice to me). Lack of food? Not enough water? I don't know. "I'm not going up there again until summer!" I announced.
Wisely, he didn't say anything. He knows I can't resist the mountain. Maybe next time I'll bring more food.
