Today’s post is a follow-up to last week’s post on backpack trips we intended to take in 2020, but couldn’t because of the pandemic.
Face it, are there no bad hikes. Each hike has its own special, well, “charm” may be pushing it. But each hike we do does have some unique or compelling aspect that, in the end, always has us saying, “That sure beat a day at the widget works.” Even when it’s finger-nipping cold, even when it’s wet enough to pack a snorkel.
It snowed Wednesday night, you had to work Thursday and today. Alas, the meager yet magnificent snowfall will be gone by the time you can hike it this weekend.
Or will it?
Cold temperatures Thursday and today mean there likely will be some snow left along the trail come Saturday — if you know where to look.
On today’s Morning Walk with Joe (Facebook Live, Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings at 8) I talked about being on the cusp of the spring wildflower season. About how last year at this time we were in the midst of the January thaw, with temperatures in the upper 60s under sunny skies, and how that prompted an early debut of the spring beauty and trout lily, in my mind the true first responders of spring. Others may emerge earlier — certain asters and chickweed — but really, it’s the appearance of the spring beauty and trout lily that let you exhale and realize that spring is just around the bend.
We weren’t quite 4 miles into the hike, not far past Camp 5 and beginning a long downhill stretch when the realization struck: the 30 or so hikers with me, most of whom had never hiked hiked more than 5 miles, were under the impression that the hike was a little more than half over. That we had about 3 miles to go, tops, and when those 3 miles were over they’d be back at the trailhead, basking in their new PRs, motoring to a local brewpub for a celebratory pint.
The winter sky is dry and clear, the temperature cold, invigorating. It’s the perfect weather for a long mountain hike. Then, your car loaded with gear and enthusiasm, you find your travels and day-hike dreams shattered by those two little words on a barricade baring access to the trailhead:
