“It may be that the best way to get out of the house in the winter, when you feel totally trapped inside, is to pick out a calendar listing from the local newspaper, and just do something new and/or random. No guarantees, but what’s to lose? I arrived at the parking area, pretty much spot on time. Everyone else was already geared up and ready to go. I slid into a ditch with the truck, trying to stay out of the way. Whether or not I was stuck, I’d find out later. Getting my snow shoes on, and making sure I had the right clothing, was a more pressing hurdle, and I quickly got seriously concerned with freezing to death, or not. Extra socks? Certainly my peanut butter sandwich would fortify my loins, along with a thermos of black tea, honey and milk. I’m not sure if I have loins, but mostly, I think we all do, or near to it. I admit I was nervous. This was a first for me, a group hike, into a wilderness with no trails, for four hours. Usually I pace myself, and chicken out when I want to. Now, my actions would be public. My mental image of where we were going, based on map study, seemed serviceable. A bit northwest of where I’d been last week, on logging roads. I’d imagined it flat, with a few undulations, nothing too rigorous. I didn’t have anything to prove. I’m not built for speed, but for endurance. With temperature hovering around zero, it was all about layers, not bravado. I shuffled over to the gathering.”Hi”, I said. People were still fumbling with straps and packs, and mittens. “Let’s do our names again,” my friend Nikki, who I’d roped into this, said, cheerfully. There was a Tom, and a Barry, and a Wyatt, and a Mike ... a Beth ... names, all of which, I immediately forgot. But they all looked nice. Enough gray hair in the group, I thought, that I could not possibly be the slowest. There was a meager path to the National Forest announcement board. Beth signed us in. We had nothing to do now, but head in. And, as it turned out, go up. I’m the first one to admit, amongst friends, that I hate hiking. I mean, I really do. I need to have more freedom than that. I like to wander around. However, a little bird fluttered in my ear as the group departed, saying: “You’d better fall in line”. So i did. The leader took us across a frozen stream bed, and for a while, we followed the stream. Eventually, there were some words, about heading more north. So we did, according to those who knew where north was. I, myself, could only think about how inaccurate or, to be generous, “incomplete”, my map study had been. Somehow the elevation factor, had completely eluded me. We went up, and up, and up. “I guess we’re going to top of the ridge,” I commented, intelligently. “I thought the pond was on this side”. Well, that’s the way it goes, in the woods. No one else seemed to care when the verticality became onerous. I think it was just a group of people who turned out not to be complainers. Bravo! At least, no grumbling. Sliding back five steps after taking one, well, not as bad as it could be if it was worse. One gal had serious crampons. She was a genius. My loyal friend of course, had slippery boots, since I had described the trip to her as fairly innocuous. “Oh, pretty much where we went the other day, “ is likely what I signaled to her, using no words at all. This reminds me of how our government is run, with no concept of reality, or a clue about clear, and honest communication. No matter. If nothing, hikes are a metaphor for something. We finally dragged our bodies into an area I would call “the top”, across dips and crannies and boulders, and fallen trees. It was time to unpack the thermos, and have a frank discussion about who was going to continue to the pond, which involved following a drainage. That didn’t really ring right with me, a drainage. The sweat on my back was freezing through my two shirts and into my down jacket. As I say, I had nothing to prove. The air had certainly not warmed up any, as we’d ascended. Still, it was hard to split up. Hard to be realistic about limits, and yet, I didn’t have any qualms about saying that was it for me. After all, I’d have to slide on my butt, most of the way down. It would be fun enough but time consuming, and probably not an altogether smooth ride. We said our goodbyes, leaving four heading to the pond, while the two of us began our plod in reverse, back along the trodden path. Nikki went first, in her slippery boots; I, in my yard sale snow shoes following. I let her have a head start, and plenty of room, just in case. I felt better already, like a horse to the barn. “Who needs to see a frozen pond, anyway? It’s just all white. I’ve seen many before,” I insisted, grabbing a sapling, executing a half way twirl & release, then a slide & landing 20 feet below where I’d started We took turns watching each other’s techniques and giving ratings. I discovered, I think, a kind of stationary telemark, which my snow shoes allowed me to perfect. Following gravity, as all good mountaineers must do, assuming, they want to get home.”
