Quick spin up to Mt. Tabor this morning in the wind and sleet. I pulled out the racing snowshoes in expectation of a few inches of snow on the ground. But alas, disappointment; freezing rain and sleet, but no snow.
I was ice climbing in Smuggler’s Notch, Vermont – the year of the massive ice storm. My partner and I climbed frozen waterfalls all day and then bivy’d in a tent pitched in a snow pit we dug with our shovels. I remember approaching the climbs in a deep stillness and when the wind blew, the sound of ice encased tree limbs clinked and clanked against one another in harmony – an unforgettable experience.
Todd and I skinned up Hood and skied out the same day that 9 inches of rain fell per hour, melted the snowpack and caused massive flooding on the Sandy river.