Dave, Tyger, and myself have a big announcement that I will reveal in approximately 1.5 weeks. Until then, know that we have been trying to hike a lot lately.
While we did not backpack the last two weekends, we did go out two days in a row both weekends. This past weekend I learned a valuable lesson about ice. It's a bitch, but you can make it your bitch if you just slip on a pair of microspikes. On Sunday, we drove over to Reeves Meadow for a hike. Dave put on a pair of poorly made ice cleats and ripped it up, swiftly moving in time with his trekking poles. Tyger seems to have natural microspikes, as he was running around without a care in the world. Admittedly, I once out there, I was being very grumpy and stubborn. I hadn't layered properly (no gloves or hat), nor did I bring my trekking poles. On top of that the trail was one giant sheet of ice. Even the friendly-looking snow was ice. My feet kept slipping out from underneath me. A man who strode past me gave me a pitying look. I watched an middle-age woman wipe out and her kids drag her down the sloped trail while she was on her back. She was laughing, luckily. In Dave's words, I looked like a 90 year old woman, the way I was gingerly shuffling around. I sort of got the hang of it towards the end of our hike when I realized I could hop from rock to rock to maintain my traction. Our short trip ended when we attempted to do a stream crossing to a side with much less snow and ice and we realized the stream was far too full and there wasn't a good crossing point. We made our way back to the car, determined to rip it up the next day.
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