The air is crisp, like the first bite into a Red Delicious. The sky is a pale shade of grey, with hints of blue spackled across like a work in progress. It's freezing out here, but we're insulated by our cold weather gear. Bundled up like children, out to play in the snow. The hike isn't easy, but walking through snow is simpler than stumbling through blackberry vines in the summer. Each step elicits that apple crunch, and there are three of us - plus one - hungrily eating up the ground with our boots.
Straight ahead we can hear the background roar of a full-bellied creek. It's fast this time of year, each ripple frothing with white speed. It is the soundtrack to our journey, and I appreciate its steady rhythm. Without it, we would be hiking in relative silence, and even with three of us - plus one - it would have seemed strangely lonely.
It isn't long into our hike that we reach the creek's impassable girth. Momentarily flabbergasted, we look around at each other, silently questioning our next move. If we cross through, we will most certainly affect the integrity of our gear. It is our plus one that finds the path and makes the decision for us. Her thick black coat is dull and weathered from many outings just like this. She scouts out a fallen tree that spans from one side to the other on a shallow incline. Effortlessly and without saying a thing, she traipses across and waits for us on the other side.
I am with two men, and to show their adeptness they cross first. Both of them toss their packs to the other side and with feline grace, balance smoothly over the mossy bridge. I am last in line, and notably clumsy with my too-big pack. I am not strong enough to throw it across the wide gap, so I strap it a little tighter to my back and crawl hands-and-knees over the slippery surface. The men have already readied their packs and are scouting out the next path. It is only our plus one that greets me with congratulations when I reach the other side. Her eyes find mine and she smiles with a slight tilt to her head.
We are off again, crunching through the February frost. We travel in silence for several miles, serenaded only by the creek flowing on our right. I stop on several occasions to take a quick snapshot of the landscape. Monstrous pines surround us, casually swaying their tops as we pass, waving us on. Mostly everything is covered in 6 inches of white. We have not seen a single deer, it's hard to walk quietly here.
Our plus one is having a grand time.
She is running, tirelessly, through the snow. Like an athletic thoroughbred,
she is jumping fallen logs and weaving through tightly packed trunks. She is
thrilled to be out here with us, thrilled as only a dog can be. Her name is
Suzie, and she is a black lab. Her mane of black fur is crystallized with ice flecks,
but she is warm under that thick blanket of hair. Her eyes are so golden
surrounded by all this white earth, and when she looks at you, ears pricked,
you can see her joy reflecting outward.
It has now begun to darken outside.
Dusk is fast approaching and we have not yet decided on a spot to set up our
tents. We determine that it is high time to stop and prepare camp. We choose a
really lovely spot next to the creek with a whimsical canopy of fir branches. I
begin unpacking the tent while the men attempt to build a fire. Suzie is
watching my every move. Her eyes no longer flashing happiness, but confusion
instead. She did not realize we would be staying out here.
When darkness starts to descend up
here, it doesn't take long. The men have been working on the fire for nearly
twenty minutes, and have not succeeded. Everything is much too wet and they are
struggling to see what they're doing. It is unbelievably cold, and I watch
their flints spark with yearning. Just catch one piece of kindling, one. No luck.
We resort to our flashlights, and
climb unceremoniously into the tent. Our three sleeping bags are cramped
together in our two person tent, but it's fairly comfortable. Suzie is allowed
in, she is permitted to lie upon our feet, and she does - very quietly. We lay
back our heads and listen to the thundering of the churning water. One by one,
we close our eyes.
We try to sleep away the cold.
