Seriously. That's about all I could think. Treen and I were out of our minds when the rain turned to snow at about the 4,000 foot level. We knew we had about 1,600 feet of glory ahead and even though the wind was blowing the snow sideways to turn it into painful needles of fridgidness we couldn't help but smile.
After all, this was the first fresh snow we'd seen since we said goodbye to winter on this same mountain back in April. So here it is, seven months later, and we're back in the snow. The best section was in the basin north of the ridge where the flakes drifted down lazily. On the ridge we walked sideways to avoid being defleshed, but in the basin it was idyllic.
Recovering weatherman Matt said it wouldn't last and he's probably right. We'll get a warm Chinook wind from the west coupled with a major rain event and it will all wash down into the valleys. But in the mountains you learn to live in the moment because the weather can change in an instant so we revelled in the cold before heading down to the moderate (and wet) lowlands.
I'm no meterologist (I just hike with one) so I don't know if this winter will be an epic one. I do know it will be better than last year because it can't be any worse. Treen and I will keep doing our snow dances and hoping for freshiez. No matter the weather, though, we'll keep going back into the mountains because even in the worst weather it's where we need to be.