The Lovely Single Digit Temperaures

When three of us planned our first snowshoe outing of the season, we had no idea we'd be venturing out into a dry cold of 7 degrees. I was tired having been at The Lighthouse Writer's party down in Denver the night before. Though I don't normally drink because of my many pharmaceuticals, I did have a half glass of white wine. There was great catered food, good company, some delightful poetry and fiction to hear, and some "lullaby" acoustic music being played by two heartbreakingly young men who sold me two of their CD's for $10.

Then I had to drive all the way through the foothills, up the canyon in rushing snow that rendered visibility nearly impossible. Needless to say, I was beat.

The next morning, I rolled over in bed & looked out the window to see a gloomy, heavily clouded morning and snow still falling. I groaned and rolled back over willing myself to go back to sleep. It was only 5 am. I got up though because once I wake, I usually can't fall back to sleep. I had already prepared my snowshoeing backpack, clothes, etc. so, I wrote in my memoir and waited for it to stop snowing. Of course, it didn't. "No one will want to go snowshoeing," I reassured myself. But I knew I had to call Mary Jean just to make sure. To my surprise, she was perky and ready to go, having been up since 6 am. But we decided to wait and go at noon. I crawled back into bed & was just dozing off again when I heard my friend Barb pounding up the front deck stairs, calling out, "I'm here!" And she came plummeting into the room, coffee cup in hand, like the old days when we'd be ready to take off for Moab. She plopped herself down next to me and we talked and talked and finally I felt my limbs responding to her energy and I quickly dressed. Once in Estes, we stopped at a new store, Estes Park Mountain Shop www.estesparkmountainshop.com which had the best prices I've ever seen. I bought a much-needed fleece headband for $4.99, Smart Wool® long ski socks that did not fall down in my boots, a powerbar and packets of hand and foot warmers.

By the time we got up to Bear Lake, the four of us were becoming more and more wary of the weather. Why were there only a handful of cars in a parking lot that is normally so full you have to be creative to find a spot? When we came to the first lake, Nymph, of course we knew why: it was 7 degrees and my face mask had frozen into a hard, scratchy lump from my breath, the hose to my Camelback® water supply was filled with ice. Thank goodness I had brought a thermos full of hot tea. But, as always, battling the cold was well worth the effort. We got up to Dream Lake and there was no wind, only the eternal stillness of everything heavy with white, perfect powder snow. My feet were working well, all of our cheeks were flushed and Scott grinned down at his three women making off-color jokes about putting my water hose up inside me to warm it up. Then when Mary Jean & Barb pushed the hose up inside my fleece shirt so it wouldn't crack, they rested their frigid hands against my warm ribs which made me shout. All the way down we rattled on about the next trip up here which will be this coming weekend and this time on back-country skiis. And I will most definitely bring my skins along so I can glide down a hill without fear until I've gotten my "snow legs" back. The epiphanies here are simple and the same every year: once you're out in it, you're hooked for good. You're good to go. You're in the winter groove and you're loving it—even the single digit temps!