Of Snowpack and Stupidity
In our defense, the mountains were calling. In hindsight, it was a truly stupid idea, but who can blame us? We were tired of the winter. Tired of the cold and the inconsistent snowfall, and the fact there wasn’t any around us near in the small town of Lapoint; we figured there would be only a small dusting on the road to our childhood retreat. Nestled in Ashley National Forrest, Paradise was where my family and I grew up. Each year, we made the pilgrimage to enjoy the dense pines and mountain air. While usually impassable in the wintertime, this year had far less snow. Naturally, as one does, my cousin and I headed out to see how far we could get.
As we traveled through the winding backroads towards “The Gateway to Paradise,” snow slowly appeared more and more along the side of the road. Passing by the ranches and cabins as we traveled, we reached a point where the road began to fill with snow, and eventually, the tracks of travelers before us stopped. While the idea that this was a sign we should turn around creeped into my mind, it didn’t stop us from continuing on the snowy road. As we began our climb through the switchbacks, it wasn’t long before disaster struck. Just as quickly as we came around the corner, our truck began to slide towards the edge, stopping just before the ditch. As we attempted to get the truck unstuck, getting out and shoveling as much as we could, we quickly realized we were not getting out by ourselves.
The night and temperature began to fall as we waited for our rescue. The snow was starting to fall in droves, and I started to think that we may be stuck overnight. We sat in the truck while we waited, only running the engine every ten minutes or so each hour to keep warm and wondered if our rescue had suffered a similar fate. At this point, we had been on the mountain for around 6 hours, so we decided to head off down the road to look for our ride. As we came around the corner, we could see our rescue had slipped completely off of the road.
In a similar but much more precarious position, we now had to wait for an excavator to tow it down the mountain side. Hours later, we returned home warm, but still without the truck we had gone up in. We had messed up big time, and it still wasn’t over yet.
Carving back up the steep hills one last time in snow tracks to retrieve the truck, the landscape was unrecognizable from the day before. The sky had opened up, and the sun washed a magnificent gold on the white landscape. Despite our hopes of capturing a snowless wilderness, for the first time, the cold landscape made me pause.
As annoying as the situation turned out to be, I don’t regret going. I feel like for most people, there’s an itching to get outside that seems to overwhelm them. Winter can be suffocating, especially for those like me who don’t ski or snowboard. As gorgeous and necessary as our winter snowfall is, towards the end of what we want to be winter, people get restless and depressed. We flip through photos of our adventures past, imagine the breeze of the summer and no snow, and long to be outside.
I’ve taken the warmer months for granted, and it’s something that I seem to reflect on each year around this same time, only this time that longing caused quite the headache.
As it starts to warm up and we see the glimpse of warmer seasons just around the corner, maybe we should take a step back and enjoy it while it lasts. (I know you powder-heads will)
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