The poor beast was out of his element. A highway running up a canyon is no place for a moose. A moose is used to the soft mushy bogs. A moose is used to being hidden by willow branches. A moose does not want to be running down a highway during a blizzard. To make matters worse he slipped on the icy surface numerous times and may have injured itself. The road itself was newly covered by 8 inches of snow that fell so heavily that it stranded this poor beast out of it’s element. Now unable to see due to the blizzard he was struggling to keep in front of the lights of my car.
I remember once standing in Zion Park looking down at footprints in the sand. It seems the beaten path for us is in fact alien to everything else on the planet. But sometimes our paths cross.
The first interval was done ten minutes before my GPS training devise beeped signaling the end of a effort. I had been running through deep snow pushing my Mukluk and trying to keep my heart rate in zone 3. No problem pushing a 30 pound bike through 4 inches of new snow. The difficulty lies in the condition of the snowmobile track before it started snowing. Icy and rutted. This kept my decent once I turned around slow and “interesting”. I slid sideways and launched off the trail for the 4th time. It had snowed so much the drifts were covering my tracks and once off trail the snow was deep enough to make me panic for a split second. I really do have a fear of being covered in snow. And drowning. I looked around and saw nothing but drifting snow … and a bike light trying to shine through a snow bank.
I remember once standing in Zion Park looking down at rock that looked like drifting snow. It makes sense to me the reason I like dirt and rocks. You can not drown in them … unless you do something bad to the mob.
Two hours later and my track had completely disappeared. I had been out in the blizzard for too long and I was now just realizing it. A certain amount of calm anxiety came over me. Like a child that is silent because they know they are in trouble. I arrived at a open area and only could guess that I was at the last junction just miles above where I parked my car. But I could not tell. The snow was coming down so hard I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I stood there shinning my 2000 lumin headlamp in every direction to see some sign of path. All just one big blur and I cracked a nervous smile.
I remember once standing in Zion Park looking down at my camera’s screen reviewing a photo I just snapped off. The photo wasn’t sharp and it didn’t have the detail or sharpness I want in a photo. But at the same time the blurry photo represented the beauty of the area with the trademark colors. It represented my current situation. I said to myself, “this is a keeper”.