Remember that scene in Bambi, when he’s struggling on the ice? He almost catches it, but then, bam! Legs in every which way, dazed and confused. That’s pretty much how I felt today.
If I’m being honest, a toddler that just began to walk, struggled less than I did.
I hate snow. I’m over it.
Not just the deep snow, but the slush. The thick type that’s really easy to shovel off the driveway, but super heavy when you try to toss it. It sticks to everything and there’s always a thin layer that Won’t. Go. Away.
Every step today was a question mark. Would it be solid ground under that snow?Would it be crunchy snow? Would it be slush-then-slide or mud-then-slide? And don’t forget about that random jagged rock that likes to pop in and add some flare.
Regardless, my ankles took the brunt of it today. Seventeen miles of bobble-head-like movement. All on my ankles. The uphills sucked. The downhills sucked. Sliding off to the left or the right of the trail…Sucked. I’ve never been so happy to see boulders just to have a solid foot placement.
It’s no wonder my feet have been swelling. They’ve been weighed down with pounds of Cheetos and Honeybuns and pin-balled all over these mountains.
With that being said, I hit a new low today:
I yelled at snow.
I told it I hated it. I grunted, growled and jabbed my hiking poles into it like a lunatic. I even went as far as swearing to never willingly hike in snow again after this trail.(Give me some time. I’ll come around)
Before I left home, my Dad said, “Just one foot in front of the other”. It sounds simple and obvious, but the last two miles of the day were spent doing just that: “Ok, move the right one. Now throw that left one up there in front of it. You know you’re going to slide into that next step, but try it anyway. Yep, that hurt, but maybe the next one won’t be as bad.”
Despite all the pain and slip sliding, the snow painted an amazing portrait on the Pine Forest I passed through. It temporarily took my mind off hating all that white stuff.
All that stupid, beautiful snow.


