Tinkle tinkle tinkle. No, not peeing, you weirdo. It's the sound as we walked through piles of shattered rime ice. Kind like walking through shattered glass, but less John McClane and more uh... us. Yippee Ki Yay.
It all started with wind blown snow from the east. It swept over the huge lake and picked up moisture before hitting the trees on the ridge. Boom. Ice. Then it got warmer. Then it got colder. Warm and cold and warm and cold until wind finally broke the ice off the trees. Then start over to form new ice. It all collected in piles at the base of the trees, slowly sliding downhill.
Each step above snowline was musical. Even when there was no ice and we were just postholing in the snow the wind whistled a tune to keep us entertained. We kept the rhythm with the chattering of our teeth.
Great views from the summit, even a brocken spectre with me and Tinkham. The wind drove us off quickly so we retreated back to the piles of ice and then the steep bare trail.
Tink didn't want to leave the ice behind and honestly, neither did I. It was a unique experience. In 20 years of adventuring I'd never encountered conditions like these, but I will surely try to see it again.
