It’s currently 40 degrees and clear up top. Yesterday’s high was 46 degrees, with an overnight low of 36. There is still a trace of last week’s snow on the ground. Much of the ice has melted, but expect the spots that haven’t melted to be particularly slick.
I finished the blog and strapped JP’s backcountry skis onto my backpack. Word of good snow up north had made it my way. I was going to do my best to see that our former Caretaker would be in the powder by Christmas. I started down the mountain, quickly peeling layers as I went.
The first group I crossed didn’t seem to notice the skis towering over me. That would not be the trend. Group after group gave me confused looks that clearly showed suspicion. I hiked on, smiling. Someone yelled, “Nice Skis.” Not one for being keen on sarcasm, I agreed. They were nice skis. I soon made it to my van, unloaded the skis, and made for the post office.
I’ll spare you the post office venture.
I began my hike up by midafternoon. My pack was less conspicuous this time around. The wary looks I encountered during the descent gave way to laughter filled conversations with the same folks I had passed just hours before. I received an outstanding sunset as I traversed the south face of Le Conte. The glow faded just as the trail leveled off.
Happy and ready to eat, I made for the kitchen at a faster clip. The jar of Braswell’s pear preserves waited anxiously in my pack. Growing up in Statesboro, Georgia – I lived less than two miles from where these preserves were made. The kitchen in sight; it wasn’t long before the preserves were spread over a thick slice of honey oat bread…
…the past never tasted so sweet.
P.S. – Thank you Ashley and Courtney for the kind letter you left me on the front porch of my cabin. I would have fixed my “number 1 fans” a cup of coffee and a slice of heavenly goodness. Maybe next time.