But this post is to start documenting the excruciating path back from injury to my usual idiocy in the mountains. Hopefully with few detours along the way.

January was slow. I was only fresh out of the boot, still wearing a thigh high compression stocking, and using a brace because my ankle felt like it'd roll over at the slightest provocation.

The only adventure that wasn't on our local trail was at the end of the Middle Fork and we were graced with a light snow on our descent. It was like a reward for listening to my physical therapist and doctors when they said, "Don't be dumb."

This isn't the sort of adventure I'd usually write about. It's just not exciting enough unless there's young kids, new puppy, or something else special. I guess a broken ankle is special enough. I'd rather have a new puppy, though.

Don't worry. February was a little more interesting. (And yes, I'm writing this from the future.)

📍On the lands of the Snoqualmie people.