As I type this the world outside is white. I think it's safe to assume I'm not in the tropics.
There comes a time in mid-winter (it's not even mid-winter. There's at least five months left!) when I just feel...prickly. I never get like this in summer, mostly because I can look up from my work and see my trusty backpack, ready to go. Lately I've been confined to front country adventures and it's making me...not so nice.
But I know what the remedy is. Even though my inner coach protested ("Slog up to the dam? Just that? That's not enough exercise! And how come you ate all those dark chocolate peanut butter cups, Fatty?") I decided it was time to go into the woods.
The thing about the East Fork Wallowa trail is, you need to work for the good stuff. It's five miles to the place where the trail opens up into big meadows and bigger mountains. In winter, that little five miles can take five hours, especially when you are breaking trail. To go less far is to mostly mindlessly slog for no real reason. Except for the reason that you feel like a porcupine and that you might kill somebody if you don't go.
All the time I had today--because of all the obligations. Grr--was to go two miles up to the dam. Here the creek is contained in a small pool which then tumbles back down into the woods, some of it used for hydropower. It almost didn't seem worth it to only hike four miles, but it is a worthy slog in itself, pointed straight uphill through a deep, dark forest. The snow was much deeper than I expected and I churned along in slow motion.
It didn't take long for the magic to work. All the obligations vanished. It was silent, just the crunch of my boots. And somehow I had forgotten about the mystical views of the lake from this hike.
|You can totally see the path of the glacier. See the moraine?|
Snowmaggedon is coming, maybe 16 inches, maybe more, and I saw it start to arrive.
I feel much better now. Though I'd take a ticket to Bali, if anyone's offering.