9 Degrees Farenheit

This morning, it was 9 degrees Farenheit.  Almost 13 below Celsius.

On December 25, I'd wear long johns and two sweaters under my down jacket when the temps hit single digits.  

On March 25?  I am a honey badger who waits for the bus wearing dress slacks and a single jacket.  Our home temperature has been set at 60 degrees for months.  My body seriously overheats when the temps go above 70 (as in, sweating in a tank top).

Winter, I have conquered you.  Now, can you leave?  Please?

Unlike the ridiculously lame winter of 2011-2012, this winter was REAL (cold).  Plenty of snow, plenty of sub-zero temperatures.

It was cold enough that our pond froze solid, at least 6 inches thick in some places!

skating on our pond

While we were stuck inside, Dave and I nailed (heh) our first big DIY project.  In retrospect, home improvement projects should happen only in the seasons that permit use of a circular saw outdoors.  Besides the insane amount of sawdust that ended up everywhere, I'm super pleased with the results and how well we worked together.  In fact, we made only 1 extra trip to the hardware store, only because we purchased the wrong sized jigsaw blades.

before:  broken, disintegrating, mouldy tile counter tops + no dishwasher

after:  basic laminate counters + dishwasher.  i don't know why the cabinets are different colors.

Once we had a dishwasher to wash huge stacks of plates, it was party time: the Third Annual Not New Year's Bash, celebrated in style, with Dave swinging around a few gentlemen monkey bars.

In between the cold and the cold, we dog-sat for a retired sled dog on his way to his retirement home in Virginia.  Not so retired that he couldn't pull my lazy butt down the South Hill Rec Way a few times!

go skijor!

This winter was my first trip to Salmon River Falls.  Conditions were excellent that day, so even though I was tired, I hopped on the amazing line "Mate, Spawn, & Die" - and climbed it cleanly, surprising myself.

that's actually dave climbing, but i did that, too.  amazing climb.

Our one trip up to the Adirondacks this winter was a bit of a bummer.  My work life has been stressful, leaving little mental energy for butt-whupping in the backcountry.

this looks how my brain feels

Dave, Chris, Nick, and I hiked Algonquin in horrible conditions; the 50 mph sustained winds were yanking me off my feet, and I wanted to be anywhere but on that mountain.

Dave, Nick, and I tried to climb Cascade Pass, but we didn't have the right equipment or beta and bailed after two short distance, long time, very cold pitches.  Nasty weather and uncertainty are fun when you have the mental stamina to deal with them.  I didn't.

views of the great range from the top of algonquin.
not pictured: insane wind speeds

The best part of the weekend was partaking of traditions with friends.

every. frickin. time.

So, now we're staring down spring.  COME ON, SPRING!!

disgustingly grossly cute

More adventures on the way.  :o)

Dogsledding (A Damn Fine Adventure)

It's been well over eight months since I've written.  As evidenced by this post, I'm still alive--alive and kickin', dreaming and scheming.  Some days more so than others, to be honest.  I'm glad I took a little break from writing, but little breaks turn into big breaks more quickly than you'd imagine.  I'd been waiting for a damn fine adventure to end the big break from writing, and I finally had one:

Dogsledding.

Cornell Outdoor Education put together a group of instructors for a week long winter camping, cross-country skiing, and dogsledding expedition in the Boundary Waters of northern Minnesota, hosted and guided by three instructors from the Voyaguer Outward Bound base near Ely.

most amazing pantry ever

We had one full and fun day of preparations.  We sorted and packed gear and food in the enormous, well-outfitted trips building (I almost fainted when I saw Outward Bound's pantry).  Outside, we tried out our skis for a brief intro to skiing lesson.  It was my first time on skis in three winters (how sad), but my legs soon remembered their groove.

At 3:00 p.m. we headed to the dog yard for dogsledding 101.  Walking into the dog yard for the first time is an unforgettable experience:  63 dogs barking, jumping, yapping, lurching, howling, begging to be put on a line and given a chance to pull.  (By the end of the week, I would be nearly immune to the sound of dogs barking and howling.)

something about milkshakes and a yard? i don't remember...

These dogs aren't indoor pets.  They have one goal and only one purpose in life:  to pull as hard as they can in a forward direction.  As such, they're treated like a precious, albeit feisty and defiant, piece of equipment.  You shove your leather mitt under their collars, stand them on their hind legs, and walk them around.  If they're on four wheel drive--i.e. all four paws on the ground--they will walk you instead of the other way around.  They sleep outside, eat chunks of lard before bed, wake up covered in frost, and don't seem to mind very much.

I, on the other hand, do mind very much when I wake up covered in frost, which is what I did for five consecutive nights.  Sleeping warm in a very cold climate is just as much performance art as technical skill.  The night before the expedition, we slept outside the trips building to practice our systems with the psychological comfort and physical safety of a heated building just steps away.  I didn't sleep much that first night.  I was excited, and though I was mostly warm, my mind churned over the question of "I wonder when I'm gonna get cold."

And then...  we were off!

five days and four nights away from civilization and everything uncivilized about it

Our days went like this.