I froze my fingers off in gloves NOT designed for below-freezing weather. I took a snapshot for a cute family with British accents with a son named Andrew. John walked on ice and then jumped on ice. We drove above the clouds and watched snow capped peaks jut above the fog below. We jogged along the creek while the sun rose over the mountain, slowly melting the hoarfrost.
It wasn’t all idyllic. We started up one mountain and almost slid backward all the way down the icey road; my little civic doesn’t do ice covered steep inclines. 😉 The mountain driving gave me a headache. I was grouchy and just wanted to start the whole day over again. And I definitely didn’t think the day could possibly turn around to anything good..
But I guess that’s what makes it so memorable. All of the trauma made the beauty even more worthwhile. In the midst of all the chaos and all my grumpiness and all the frustration, John found us an adventure: a ice covered lake at the base of a snowcapped mountain and a couple miles of trails.
I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed the view if I’d had an easy trip getting there.
Maybe that can be my hope for the next few months and years? Right now, I’m hating the process. But maybe the result will be worth it?