We backpacked to the nordic ski hut this weekend, dragging our stuff up the Hill of Death. I had imagined a lazy afternoon of reading by the wood stove, but J had other ideas. He was going to cut out a path to where the skiers started skinning up the mountain, and I was going to swamp!
|melting snow for water|
Swamping in the snow adds a new level of delight to the activity. You forgot about winter, so your socks are thin, and your feet are cold. Everything is covered in white. In no time everything is drenched. In two hours we might have gone a mile.
We trooped back to the cabin to warm up. During the night, snow fell unforecasted, so that when we stepped out to re-tarp the outhouse (yet another thankless task, but necessary), our feet sank in about a foot of new snow. There's no denying it: this snow will stay until June, maybe July.