Category Archives: Travel

Crisp Point’s Many Faces

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In the four days we've been at Crisp Point Lighthouse so far, this coastline of Lake Superior has served up a varied selection of weather. While tent camping here we are naturally tied to the elements, and all that Mother Nature brings our way. So far, she continues to entertain us with her many moods.

We arrived on a foggy, misty and brooding morning. The wind was howling, blowing off the lake and seemed to strip away every ounce of warmth I could muster. I spent that day shivering, piling on layers of clothes I'd packed for just such circumstances, including my winter jacket. But I did wonder how I'd survive five days huddled in those same layers.

Despite the conditions, the lighthouse grounds fascinated us. The tower stood tall against the elements, claiming its place as safeguard for the coast. Even when the skies cleared, the waves continued to crash furiously against the shore providing an angry display of power, and a constant sound that lulled us to sleep that night.

The wind abated on our second day, and left mosquitoes in swarming its wake. Not everything can be perfect here, and these pests let us know it. I'm usually fairly tolerant, but I've never seen such hungry hoards before. It was enough to drive me to wear a dorky hat smothered in bug spray or seek refuge in the visitors center. At night they swarmed between our inner screen tent and rain fly in noisy frustration at being unable to reach us for their next meal. Only then did we feel we had won the battle, temporarily.

Yesterday afternoon a storm appeared to be brewing. Fortunately, it didn't materialize but it did bring huge gusts of wind that persisted for the remainder of the day. Our tent blew over three times before we finally gave up and collapsed it, anchoring it with rocks. And our screen tent pulled up its stakes and blew right off Rich who was sitting in it at the time. Sleep was hard to come by that night as the tent pulsated in the wind, the sides alternately collapsing in toward us and flapping away. I'm sure it was only our bodies that anchored it to the ground.

Today, in contrast, it's hot and sunny. The light wind is out of the south and the lake calmly laps the beach. We can see out into the water, with it's varying colors. It's a perfect day for walking the beach, which seems to be a bigger attraction to our visitors than the lighthouse today. I'm happy to sit by the water's edge and read in between the slow flow of guests.

My favorite times of the day are morning and evening. We have the place to ourselves then, a powerful feeling of good fortune to be surrounded by this natural beauty. Mornings are magical. Emerging from the tent in time to catch the sunrise leaves hours to enjoy the golden colors of the low sun as the shoreline awakens. It's peaceful, quiet and different every day.

Sunset comes late here. And we've had some beauties. By the time the light fades, I'm already thinking about a campfire – a camping requirement, in my opinion. Once the fire is established and roaring, I love watching the glow of the red-hot coals underneath. To add to the allure, the crackling of the fire is accompanied by the rhythmic flow of the waves on the beach in close proximity. The other night I could see a distinct line of red in the distance marking the sun's departure over the horizon, and the rhythmic repetition of the lighthouse's signal light. A pleasing combination.

Tomorrow is guaranteed to be different from today. I'm looking forward to what Crisp Point will deliver for us.

 

 

Lighthouse Keeping

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For the second time this year, we are setting out on a working vacation, retirement style. The deal involves trading volunteer hours for lodging in a unique setting. Last winter we worked at Snow Mountain Ranch in Colorado. This time our destination is Crisp Point Lighthouse in Michigan’s UP near Whitefish Bay.

This lighthouse is one of five positioned between Grand Island and Whitefish Point. It’s only a distance of about 50 miles, but Lake Superior claimed numerous ships in this stretch in the 1800s, leading to its moniker as “The Shipwreck Coast.” Pressure to build lighthouses began in the 1850s but it was 1904 before Crisp Point finally received funding and became operational. It remained in service until 1993. After nearly falling into disrepair with Lake Superior encroaching on its shoreline and lapping at its base, the lighthouse was saved by some enterprising folks who ultimately founded the Crisp Point Light Historical Society. That group has done extensive restoration and preservation work, ensuring the survival of the lighthouse for future generations to enjoy.

Lighthouse and attached service building, years ago

Crisp Point Lighthouse is said to be a beauty. Its remoteness enhances the appeal of the site, with Lake Superior’s unspoiled shoreline providing a dramatic backdrop. Only the lighthouse remains of the multiple buildings that comprised the orginal complex. The attached service building was recently rebuilt, and a new visitor center resembles the old fog signal structure.

Our gig is to man the visitor center and keep the buildings and grounds clean. We are expected to greet visitors and open the tower and gift shop from 10-5. Our instructions tell us we must “maintain the high standards of friendliness, neatness and cleanliness” in carrying out our duties. Just how many guests we will entertain is uncertain. Given that the lighthouse is located at the end of an 18-mile dirt road in an already sparsely populated area, it is not a sight to attract casual tourists. But the true lighthouse affectionados will find their way there.

Our accomodations on site will be a rustic campsite perched on the edge of Lake Superior. Devoid of running water, electricity and other amenities including cell reception, we will have to be self-sufficient for our 5-day stint. While it’s not required to stay overnight on the lighthouse grounds, to us that is the whole appeal. We even upsized to a 3-man pup tent for more elbow room, a luxury of car camping. Having our own slice of Lake Superior shoreline, sitting by a crackling campfire, reveling in the super dark night skies and the ever-hopeful possibility of Northern Lights are the draw for us.

We should arrive at Crisp Point tomorrow morning about 8:00, in time to talk to the volunteers who are preceding us and get some pointers before assuming our duties at 10am. After that we will be out there on our own with little connection to the outside world, just like lighthouse keepers of old. Check back with us in about a week to see if we find ourselves fit for the job.

 

 

Life in the Slow Lane

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Florida. The land of retirees and a whole different pace of life. While we technically fit into the retiree category, we have not yet adopted a more leisurely pace. So it’s a bit of an adjustment to adapt to this alternate lifestyle.  Even for a short visit. But with the loan of my sister-in-law’s bike, I’m making progress.

It’s called a cruiser. One speed, fatGetting the hang of this cruiser tires, big wide handlebars, a cushy seat and coaster brakes. Hers must be a designer model as it also has white sidewalls and is an eye-catching mint green. Truly a classic.

We all had this kind of bikes as kids – it’s what we learned on. So it should be intuitive, right? Well, not quite. After spending the last two years perfecting the nuances of my long distance touring bike with it’s umpteen speeds and cycling shoes, suddenly this masterpiece of simplicity felt foreign beneath me.

My first challenge was the handlebars. Their wide reach meant that any small movement was magnified by the front tire, making it extremely sensitive. As I set off down the road, I felt as though I was veering right and left. I was just certain that I would plow into the path of the next approaching car. Fortunately, it quickly evened out as I pedaled.

The bigger hurdle was stopping. How the heck was I supposed to use my feet for both braking and standing up when I stopped? I don’t remember that ever being an issue as a kid. Perhaps as an adult I think too much. I’m sure I left a few layers of rubber sole on the pavement at the first few intersections. But I gradually got the hang of braking with one foot and dropping the other to catch myself before falling. Mostly. I admit I’m still working on smoothing out that technique.

Thankfully, this area has wonderful bike paths. Wide, smoothly paved and totally lacking in hills, they are perfect for cruising on a bike. Once off the neighborhood streets, blissfully safe from cars and with few intersections, I began to get into the experience. I enjoyed the cooling effect of the wind on the hot, sunny afternoon. Lacking my tight fitting cycling gear, I relished the sloppy way my soccer shorts flapped in the wind, and my loose T-shirt fluttered around me. No need to be aerodynamic.

With only one speed, I discovered the joy of coasting. On gentle downward slopes, the bike sped up of its own accord. I couldn’t ratchet up any gears for more force, and it was pointless to spin my feet faster and faster in an attempt to catch up with the speed of the tires. So the only thing to do was glide and enjoy it. Whee!

When I did cross the occasional drive, I made sure to slow down and anticipate traffic. With an occasional wobble when cars approached, I figured they must think me a doddering grandma out on my bike. Then I realized that’s just what I was! A humbling thought, but not enough to deter me.

Riding for the pure joy of being outside in beautiful weather soon took over. Miles were inconsequential. Speed was meaningless. Distance didn’t matter. A novel experience. Life in the slow lane. I think I’m starting to get it.

Escape from Everlasting Winter

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In a winter already renowned for it’s below zero temperatures and lasting deep snow on the ground, we faced yet another winter storm warning just as April approached. We were plenty accustomed to bracing for storms, but this one held another threat for us. The impending nasty weather perfectly coincided with our scheduled departure for Florida. Our escape was in jeopardy.

But the preparations went on. It was hard enough to make sense of the t-shirts, shorts and sandals piled on the bed to be packed. Envisioning wearing them was even more of a challenge. It must have had a lot to do with the piles of snow staring at us through the windows.

Fortunately, weather forecasts are imperfect at best, and this storm failed to materialize as early as predicted. We breezed up to the Duluth airport and our flight departed right on time. Whew! Let the storm rage, now that we were safely out of its reach.

Canal-Park-By-Air

Canal Park by Air – taken by Rich Hoeg

Our flight path took us right over Canal Park where Rich took a dramatic photo out the window. Lake Superior’s icy surface was ubiquitous. The open channel through the Aerial Bridge showed up in stark contrast, and quickly dissolved into tightly clustered ice chunks which gave way to solid ice. Clearly the hard work of the Coast Guard ice cutters was short lived. It was easy to see why the nascent shipping season had come to a rapid halt.

Florida feels like another world. It’s green everywhere, flowers are in bloom, and the sun sheds a genuine warmth. In fact, sitting in the sun reading my book I get hot. But I’m not complaining. Running early in the morning is refreshingly cool, and my natural impulse is to avoid the wet spots from the automatic sprinklers. But the ice I expect is far from reality. What pure joy!

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To double our pleasure, we check the webcam back home. Ooh boy, does it look ugly looking down our front steps. Icy rain splatters the windows and it just plain looks cold. My weather app reports dangerous high winds, and friends confirm the terrible driving conditions. It’s a winter storm all right, not an April Fool’s joke. Or is it?

No matter.  We have escaped for now.  We will worry about the everlasting part when we return.

Farewell Snow Mountain Ranch

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A world of white greeted me on my final morning at Snow Mountain Ranch. Deep powder blanked my car and was still being plowed from the campus roadways. Arriving at breakfast earlier than usual, the low sunlight caught the sparkling white branches of the pine trees atop the hill at the Commons with mountain peaks glowing in the background. It begged for a photo, but for once I had no camera with me.

By the time I finished packing the car a thick low fog had descended into the valley. All was indeed white. And so were the roads. The snowpack and ice were an unwelcome addition to the roads that were clear pavement just the afternoon before, and it was a slow and treacherous drive through the local countryside.

The Berthoud Pass, which was my most direct route to Denver, had been closed the day before and through the night due to a snowslide, but fortunately reopened early that morning. I was glad for the clear sunny skies which worked their magic on the road, uncovering patches of pavement that gave my tires greater purchase as I wound my way around the switchbacks in the mountain pass. Unaccustomed to driving on my own in dicey conditions, I prided myself that my knuckles never turned white and I safely navigated the pass. My reward was stopping at the first exit on the freeway (which was mercifully clear) to rid my wipers of ice and stand in a long line in order to savor a latte.

wpid-Photo-20140310113131.jpgFinally I could relax a little and reflect on my time at SMR. That last week there finally cemented my affection for the place, and I could understand why so many senior volunteers return year after year. Good weather (no strong winds!), lots of fresh snow, excellent skiing, plentiful social events and good company all came together, and at last I knew how it felt to be part of it all. It takes a while to get acclimated to the way of life at SMR and really get to know people. I was indeed part of the SMR family. And wouldn’t you know, I reached that point just about the time I had to leave. I only wish that Rich had been able to stay and enjoy the same benefits and rewards. It was a great experience, and left me wanting to return for more.

At the Denver airport, Rich and I were reunited after a long 10 days apart while he stayed with his Dad in the hospital in Florida. We ended up cutting our time at SMR short by about 5 days, but under the circumstances, we were both ready to head for home. It was a bittersweet experience, but the bitter is fading fast leaving mostly sweet memories for me. Farewell, Snow Mountain Ranch – at least for now.

 

Of Summits and Snowflakes

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With my stay at Snow Mountain Ranch drawing to a close, I wanted to make the most of the time I had left. My final day of work I was scheduled for an afternoon shift, which left me plenty of time to get in a decent ski earlier in the day. There was only one major trail that I had not yet skied, so imagine my delight to find that it had been groomed that very morning. Others had broken trail with back country skis, but that didn’t appeal to me, and this was the first time it had been groomed in two months. I set my heart on completing the trail.

My first hurdle was the advice I received from more experienced skiers in the Nordic Center. They warned me of the steep terrain and difficulty of the climb. I hadn’t fully grasped the fact that this trail rose 2,000 feet in elevation! Learning that I didn’t plan to bring any food and drink, they pressed a granola bar on me and I left with some doubts.

When I reached the turnoff for the Blue Ridge Trail, it did indeed climb. But I decided that I’d pursue each leg of the switchbacks and go as far as I could. As it turns out, the trail did climb relentlessly, but the climbs were not steep. And as long as I stopped periodically (okay, frequently) to catch my breath, I was able to continue. To further spur me along, the higher I got, the better the views. Feasting my eyes on at least 180 degrees of mountain ranges was inspiring, and further excuse to pause along the way. The grooming was impeccable with a firm surface despite the warming sun, and I relished the fact that my ski tracks were the first ones there. Reaching the summit was almost an anticlimax, as there was no sign to commemorate my accomplishment, nor a clear peak to the mountain at 10,670 ft. Even the selfie photo I took to show me at the summit really doesn’t prove much of anything – but I knew I’d made it.

The return trip was a glorious ride down. I was tired but thrilled I’d completed the whole trail and happy that I reached the summit. And that granola bar did taste good at the top.

On my final day, I set off with two friends for a women’s snowshoe hike. Fran has been coming to Snow Mountain Ranch as a volunteer for years, and offered to lead the hike. Patti was new to snowshoeing, so we were a motley crew of experience but eager for a day out. Undeterred by the steady snowfall, we donned our layers of clothes, snowshoes and packs with food, water, extra clothing and emergency supplies.

From Grand Lake we took the East Inlet Trail, which immediately led us into Rocky Mountain National Park. Lacking trail markers, we were glad that we could see vague indentations from previous snowshoers. New snow was piling up quickly, and our view was curtailed to our immediate surroundings. But the beauty of the heavy woods draped in snow made up for the mountains we were missing in the distance. The trail was fairly flat, following a branch of the Colorado River for a while, and meandering through the woods. Progress was slow but satisfying, allowing us to drink in the quiet of the woods.

With an out-and-back trail, the inevitable question is when to turn around? It always feels good to reach a specific destination, and Fran had one in mind. As soon as we saw the large rock formation, we knew we’d reached it. The trail narrowed along a ledge and seemed to whither away with the rock looming overhead. We all agreed it was the perfect stopping point, not wanting to test our skills scampering around the end of the rock. Taking a short time out for a snack and drink of water, we began to retraced our steps. With temperatures hovering right about freezing, the falling snow was saturating our clothing and gloves. Keeping moving was the only way to fend off the resulting chill.

Although Fran had frequently seen moose and other wildlife on that trail, we saw not a single critter. Even animal tracks were in short supply. We were the sole inhabitants of the woods, or so it felt. But that was okay. It was the camaraderie that was best about the hike, spending time with new friends and sharing an adventure.

Yes, I think I did well. Both outings were satisfying in different ways, and brought closure to my stay. And I have left plenty more to explore, hoping we’ll be back next year.

A Grand Day Out

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Weather reports are fickle. I held off on my planned outing to Grand Lake until today based on the forecast for “mostly sunny” skies. So when I woke up to a world socked in with clouds, I was dismayed. Still hoping for the promised clearing, I dawdled in a cosy coffee cafe in Grandby with my latte and muffin – a decidedly leisurely way to start the day.

By the time I continued on my way the sun was starting to peak out, although the surrounding mountaintops were all still shrouded in clouds. Ever hopeful, I drove on to the Grand Lake Nordic Center. With 5″ of fresh new snow on the ground, the world was a clean soft undulating surface blanketed in white. The fact that Grand Lake touts their “pristine grooming” was comforting, and I was further cheered upon my arrival to learn that all trails had just been groomed that morning.

Heading out through the woods

The Nordic Center is a comfortable building that converts nicely from its summer personality as the golf clubhouse. Expecting wide open trails on the golf course, I was mystified but thrilled to ski straight into a vast wooded area dominated by tall pole pines. With a firm new skate deck yet a soft snowy surface, the skiing was delightful – especially since there were only a handful of other skiers out on the whole system. I was the first skate skier down nearly every trail I skied – kilometers of fresh corduroy!

Tall pole pines grace the trails

True to the forecast, the day remained mostly sunny. The sun was out all day, although the clouds remained firmly entrenched around the edges. I decided that the woods were scenery enough for me, and that I would relish the sunshine. Mountaintops could wait for another day.

As usual with a new trail system I found myself confounded by too many trail intersections, and was constantly checking my map. Sometimes I decided to just go where the spirit moved me – what difference did it make if I backtracked and covered the same loop twice? I was just out there for the fun, the outdoors and the sunshine. One portion of the trail crossed the Colorado River and paralleled it for a while. I deliberately skied that one twice. By the time I was done I think I covered nearly major piece of trail at least once.

Crossing over the Colorado River

In the end, I did find the golf course. That's where the dog trails are – designated trails where dogs are allowed, and joyfully romp alongside their skiing masters. Since no dogs had gone ahead of me, those trails were as fresh as the rest. The wind did take its toll, however, blowing snow over the tracks even on a nice day like today. All the more reason to stick to the beautiful wooded trails.

Mountaintops finally clear in the distance

By the time I finished skiing, I managed to glimpse the snowy tops of one mountain range. Settling down to eat my lunch beside the wood fire in the Nordic Center, I had the same view out the window. Glorious.

A few days off work, good weather and a trip to new territory has done wonders for my psyche. As nice as it is at Snow Mountain Ranch, it's good to break the routine and do something new. Yes, it was a grand day out. (with apologies to Wallace and Gromit!)

 

Campus Life

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It's been a long time since I lived on a college campus, sharing a small room, eating in the dining hall and meandering all over the sprawling grounds to the various buildings I frequented. But it all came flooding back as I settled into life at Snow Mountain Ranch as a volunteer.

SMR, as we call it, covers over 5,000 acres in a valley in the Colorado Rockies. As a family and conference center, it has a wide variety of facilities, as well as the usual lodging and dining halls. Being run by the YMCA of the Rockies, there is a big focus on outdoor, athletic and family activities, spawning a pool building, gym, yoga center, riding stables and craft shop as well as the Nordic Center for cross-country skiing, tubing, sledding and ice skating venues. And I'm sure I haven't discovered many of the offerings.

My own world revolves around a few select sites. Home is in Pinewood. It's the residence hall for us “seniors” and is the usual long hall lined with doors and small motel-like rooms. Doors slam, footsteps echo down the hall, but late night parties are not an issue. And this time I got to pick my roommate! After almost 31 years together, I knew Rich and I would be compatible.

Moving into Pinewood

Two connected rooms have been converted to a lounge for us, and is frequently filled in the evenings by those interested in watching TV and playing games. My first week here, I made it a nightly habit to wander down to watch the Olympics with those gathered there. It also happens to house the notebook entitled “Senior Trips.” There we can sign up for various planned activities or post suggestions for group outings. It's worth keeping up with the list, as the Y often provides free and convenient transportation for the events.

Pinewood is connected to the main lobby for SMR, with a two-sided gas fireplace, comfy chairs and a good internet connection. It's a very pleasant place to sit and read or visit. In the evenings it is frequently overrun by us seniors.

The Craft Shop, where I work, is on the far end of the campus from Pinewood. Lacking plowed sidewalks, and with roads that are narrow and slippery, walking is not as easy an option as I'd like. Unlike college days when I walked everywhere, I frequently end up having to drive for safety sake. For someone as committed to a healthy life style as I am, it goes against my grain. I'm sure it would be different in the other seasons. But for winter, a car is fairly essential.

At the Nordic Center

When I'm not working, the Nordic Center is my favorite haunt. There I get my free ski passes, rent any equipment I like, gratis, and check the latest grooming reports. It happens to be the most sought after place for volunteers to work, helping skiers, selling ski clothing and equipment and handling rentals. Perhaps one day I can work my way up the ladder to a position there! For the meantime, it's the hub of the 60k of ski trails on SMR property and starting point for any day's ski.

And finally, the Commons where we eat. It is the central cafeteria that feeds all the lodge guests at SMR as well as its staff members and volunteers. It definitely brings back memories of the old cafeteria lines in college. This is no newfangled, upscale food station style cafeteria which some of my kids enjoyed in college. It's the old food line with trays, steam tables and mass produced food. In its defense, some of the dishes are pretty good. And I regularly hunt down the healthy offerings – an abundance of fresh fruit at breakfast, seedy bread for sandwiches and the fruit bowl at lunch, and build your own salad ingredients at dinner. Fortunately, their desserts aren't at all tempting, but I still wish for some ice cream now and again.

The Commons - our dining hall
A table of Senior Volunteers

The main attraction of the Commons, though, is social. The senior volunteers always sit in about the same spot, gathering around the tables in random order as we arrive. It's the best place to meet others and get to know everyone better, or find out what's going on. It's a retreat between work hours, or a leisurely visit on our time off. It's easy to spot our group – we're the gray haired folks with SMR fleece vests and badges hanging on colorful lanyards around our necks.

I wouldn't want to do it year-round, but for a brieft winter stint when we can enjoy the mountain views and endless opportunities to ski the trails, it's a good life. I'm quite enjoying being back on campus.

 

Crafty Lady

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I've always enjoyed doing crafts. Sewing, needlepoint, counted cross-stitch, knitting, crocheting – basically all types of needlecrafts and beyond. So it seemed a natural to sign up to work in the craft shop for my volunteer job at Snow Mountain Ranch.

Stepping in the door for my first shift, I realized in short order that these were crafts of an entirely different nature. I'd call them camp crafts. Things you do at scout camp or in specialty craft shops where you might go for a kids' birthday party activity. The set-up accommodates a large number of people at long tables well stocked with supplies. All around the shop are examples of the various crafts available for kids and adults to do. Ceramics, leather work, wood burning, tie dying, jewelry making, wooden models to assemble and paint and mosaics are just a few of the offerings.

Our largest set of customers are families. Moms and Dads come in with the kids, who eye all the projects like candy and eagerly select something to work on. The best part is watching families working together, parents helping out their kids and often making things together. And since they are on vacation, they are happy and relaxed. As staff members, our job is to help them pick out projects and teach them the techniques involved if necessary.

I felt a bit out of depth at first, but soon discovered that the only way to learn was by doing. On weekdays traffic is light, so I picked out several projects to make as shop samples. My first attempt was leather work. I'd never done it before, and soon found it fascinating to pound in the designs, stain the leather and stitch together the final project. I finally had my first skill I could share!

From there I progressed to ceramics. We have hundreds of pre-made ceramic pieces that range from figurines to dishes and mugs. For that project, I actually purchased a “scoop bowl” and made it for myself. It took surprisingly long to cover it in three complete coats of glaze. The fascinating thing is that the colors are pastel when painted on, but come out of the kiln in brilliant shades. My design was not exactly intricate, but I was pleased with the result and knew what tips to pass along to our customers.

When the shop manager challenged me to paint a T-Rex dinasaur, I was stumped. I felt I needed to come up with something creative and eye-catching. One of the young seasonal workers who happens to be an artist helped drum up some examples for me on the internet, and that spawned an idea. It took me forever to paint the base design with its detailed shapes – in three coats no less – but then I was able to let my imagination run wild. Adding dots and doodles was the final touch. I couldn't wait to see it come out of the kiln the next morning. I think the reault was quite stunning!

I then turned to mosaics. The more complex process involves grouting the tiles, so I undertook that challenge. I had no idea how to go about it, but enjoyed each step as it was explained to me. By the time it was finished, I felt quite accomplished.

In between I learned the techniques for tie dying and where to find things in our immense inventory. When a busy weekend shift rolled around, I was armed with enough knowledge to jump in and play the expert. Kids' eyes gleamed when I showed them how to do things, and parents watched proudly.

I can see now why my original skills were not applicable. I can't imagine families coming in and knitting together. But my underlying aptitude for hand work was still a benefit. My family has always called me the Crafty Lady. Now I have a whole new set of techniques to add to my resume.

 

Snowshoeing Take 2

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With a late shift for work there was plenty of time for a snowshoe expedition, so Dee and I set out once again to tackle the snow. In contrast to our last outing, this time the temperatures were mild, the wind low and the sun was shining. Much nicer!

We chose the Waterfall Trail, which started out along the ski trails then ventured off through a valley and eventually rose up the hillsides. Some intrepid backcountry skiers had decided to ski the route, so it was easy to find our way alongside their tracks. With the sun beating down, we quickly shed layers, hats and gloves as we grew warm while trudging uphill. The blue sky made for a dramatic backdrop to the scenery, enhancing the experience.

As we neared the waterfall, we could hear it trickling down. It wasn't a big opening in the snow, but the water was definitely flowing. It left icy formations around the edges of the snowy hole and a pleasant sound in the otherwise silent forest.

Although the clouds began to gather and eventually the sky became completely overcast, we decided to extend our walk to do the Coyote Tooth trail. That one had not been used since the last snowfall, so we were relieved to find that it was very clearly marked. We did a lot of climbing, but whenever we reached openings in the trees we were rewarded by expansive views. It was fun to see the ski trails on the opposite hillside, as if on a map in front of us. Eventually we were able to see out over the whole valley. Had it not been snowing in the distance, the mountain views would have been stunning.

Our final descent was a series of switchbacks to make our way back down the steep hillside. The actual distance we had covered was disappointingly small, but it didn't come close to measuring the amount of effort we'd expended tromping around in the snow all morning. It felt good to see the car in the distance and complete our trek. Another successful snowshoeing adventure under our belts.