walking (slowly) through a winter wonderland

When last we met, I assured you that (a) Jude and I were going to an alpine ski

resort Tuesday, and (b), I would file a “full, photo-filled report” about it.  We did

in fact do (a), but I can’t meet the promise of (b) because I forgot to take our

camera.

We were well on our way to the ferry when this realization came to me.  “Golly,”

I said.  (I’m paraphrasing.)  Jude, being a trained mental health professional,

immediately sensed my distress.  “What’s wrong?”, she assessed.

I explained my oversight.  She was comforting and nonjudgmental, but clear

in stating that we didn’t have time to go back for it.  I fully concurred with this.

I considered buying a cheapo replacement, but a digital one couldn’t possibly

be that cheapo, so I dismissed the thought straightaway and didn’t bother to

mention it to Jude, who was busy driving.

So we pressed on.  We went to Raven Lodge, a mile or so from the main lodge

Raven is the hub of Nordic activity, like snow shoeing and cross country

skiing.  There was a big crowd, with lots of families.  Kids who looked like

they could barely walk were zipping past us on skis.

Everyone seemed to be in good humour, possibly an overflow of the spirit of

Christmas and Boxing Day.  We heard many North Germanic conversations.

I know that winter sports are second nature to those folks, but it was all new

to me.  I lived in Louisiana when I was forming my adult preferences.  The

nearest skiing, according to Yahoo! Answers, is in Missouri.

Jude lived in Minnesota for a long time, so she helped me with my snowshoes.

All I’d learned from the one brief time we’d tramped around our property was

lost in the majestic setting of Mount Washington.  I was trying to put them on

backwards, for example.

However, logic and human physiology prevailed and we were soon on our way.

We chose the Ponds Trail, described on our map as 2 kilometres (1.6 miles) of

rolling hills.  And roll they did, through lovely forests of lodge pole pine trees,

past snow-filled meadows where we can only assume ponds resided.

It was bracing.  The weather was just below freezing, windy in spots.  The

altitude was about 1100 metres (3600 feet), yet I didn’t have any trouble

breathing, perhaps due to our leisurely pace.  My snowshoes are 34 inches

long.  It took some practice, mainly to keep the backs of them from banging

together.

It was well worth it.  We got some great exercise with a superb view, had many

pleasant chats with others, and ended up back at the lodge just as my toes were

requesting hot chocolate.

We will go back with our camera.  In the meantime, please accept this visual

representation of our adventure:   

I acknowledge that this is mildly insulting to your intelligence, so I’ll leave you

with this adorable photo of Ollie helping Jude with her paperwork.

Happy New Year!  See you in January.