Although it sounds like Western New York has been experiencing similar temperatures to Northwestern Vermont, winter has a different flavor here. In Rochester we often find ourselves hunkering down. Most of us are indoors as much as possible; it's rare to find the adventurer or runner that toughs out the single digits and the piles of snow. Here, however, I'm noticing that more people are venturing into nature regardless of the temperatures. Sometimes the more snow the better. Skiing and snowboarding are regular activities as are hiking and snow shoeing. Even runners and cyclists are still doing their thing. And gear is the name of the game: crampons? microspikes? It's a whole universe of outdoor adventure and sporting that I am just becoming introduced to.
Once my fingers and mind thawed from the frigid cold, I realized "Fuck, I'm in the Green Mountain State. It would be such a waste to not experience it while I'm here." We've also been getting blessed with more sunlight than I've seen during any northern winter to date which makes staying indoors seem unreasonable. So on my day off (that's right, day off) I headed south towards to mountains to Waterbury where Christina would be my guide and hiking buddy up Stowe Pinnacle.
Layered up and with microspikes strapped to our feet, we started making our way up with mountain. It was only 1.65 miles to the top but it was uphill the whole way. With the sun shining on the snow and the trees barren the woods were bright and open. It felt wonderful to breath in fresh mountain air. Lucky for us the trail had been traversed a lot lately and the snow was stamped down to make for easier walking. Either way it would have been very frustrating if not impossible to hike without the microspikes. They are a very cool invention.
Along the way we'd stop tracks of small winter critter or of snowshoers who had pasted through earlier. We made some brief breath-catching breaks, a stop at a teepee, and some laying in the snow to cool off breaks (for Christina, I had left my waterproof snow pants behind). About halfway up I found myself shedding mittens and hat and breaking sweat. Layer in 1 tee shirt, 2 long shelves, 1 flannel, 1 sweater, and 1 coat (and that was just the top layer*) I came to respect that my layering logic came from standing still under the Public Market shed. Christina brought up the slightly disturbing idea of sweating too much and having it freeze. It was about zero degrees, after all. Note: less clothing next time.
*bottom layer was 1 paid legging, 1 pair leg warmers, 2 pairs socks, and boots
The last .65 miles was a push -- steep, so close yet so far. But the top was breathtakingly rewarding.
As we stood at the top, now exposed completely to the wind and body temperatures cooling rapidly, I understood why these people lived here and why they invested in spiked shoes and cold weather gear and braved the cold mountain passes that lead to summits. The mountains have a way of reminding you of your place in the world. Everything feels sturdy and strong. On the way up the mountain ask things of you and, if you respond with grace and respect, you are sweetly rewarded. Even if it is only for a cold and windy moment you can see the world from a magical perspective. You are just as atop it as you are within it. You didn't conquer the mountain but you became a part it. As your journey back down, you are a little brighter and calmer and lighter for it.
In the cold and snow we are shown beauty, peace, and magic in a way that no other season can offer.*
*This message brought to you by mircosprikes.
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