It’s a beautiful thing when the snow fills in the empty spaces. The world is cacophonous most of the time. It’s filled with business and rushing and so much stimulation that you can feel sick of it. Surrounded by feet of snow though, it’s as if you can breathe for the first time, in a long time. To be logged out in a cabin as this muffling harmony surrounds you is a life simple enough to make you want to cut all ties for it.
I’m sure many would critique that life. Maybe that you aren’t doing enough, you’re wasting your time away. Maybe that’s true. But to know the crunch of the snow under your boot, to know every foot trail so well that you can be the one to start the way after the blizzard? I would say I’m not exactly convinced that it’s a waste of time. You feel connected to the land, more bolted down than ever. To share paths with the animals that know these lands much better than we do, and honour their trails as our own, is something awe-inspiring. Imagine the way a pack of wolves shifts through the snowfall. No protection, no properly-serviced highway. Even the bears turn in for the winter, as does much of humankind. But for some, from all walks, this weather calls you out instead of in. The bite of the cold, the strange cushioned throne of the snow.
Whenever the snow falls, the first thing that crosses my mind is “damn, I want to go for a walk”. Being lost in nature, or at least just in that frigid blanket of white, can tempt you to the point of death. You move through the snowfall, your hot breath keeping you in check and reminding you just how God awful it is outside. But when you reach a summit, a peak, something of the sort that just takes your breath away, every fiber of your being will be searing hotter than any day spent on a beach in July. Just trust me on it.
