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Saturday, December 3, 2011
You cannot be serious
We had a surprise big snowfall last night. I was shocked to see what looked like a fresh foot of snow outside our windows this morning. K started our snowshoe hike in 10°F air wearing a hat and neck warmer.
She didn't wear them for long. K porpoised through the bottomless snow like a wild puppy. I started our hike still feeling gloomy but K's happy play lifted my spirits skyward. Her joyful demeanor was infectious.
While we were out on the trails, the snow barrage became intense. The horizontal snow whipped past K's face in when she sat still.
I had hoped that snowshoeing would pack the trails enough for me to snowbike on them. Alas, it snowed so hard while K and I were on the trails that I could barely discern our tracks on the way home. So, I headed out onto dirt roads on my snowbike, assuming that plows and car tracks would make them passable. On a private road, the plow had been through leaving a wall of snow that dwarfed my monster snowbike.
County roads had not yet been plowed. Trucks, SUV's, and cars were abandoned by the sides of the roads where they'd become hopelessly mired in the snow. You can see the furrows of tire tracks on the very snowy county road below. You can also see how gorgeous our world was today, a magical kingdom of fluffy snow.
As I pedaled up this road, I saw one of the huge county plows heading down it. I lifted my bike off the road and stood on the berm to let him plow the entire road. But, to my surprise, he stopped, smiling broadly. He opened his window and shouted, "You cannot be serious!", as he pointed at my bike. He laughed and continued on his way. I giggled as I headed toward home on the most gnarly bike in the world.