Happy Groundhog Day

According to Wikipedia, Groundhog day (February 2nd) is a Pennsylvania holiday stemming from European tradition based on mixing of the German pagan celebration Imbolc (which marked the return of spring) and the Christian celebration of Candlemas (or Purification of the Virgin). There is speculation that it also had something to do with the confusion between the traditional return of spring in early February, and the "official" first day of spring six weeks later(or more, depending on which calendar you were using) at the equinox in March. Anyway, the idea is that some burrowing hibernator animal (apparently either a badger or a bear in German tradition, but a groundhog in the Pennsylvania version) decides when spring REALLY comes by sticking its head out of its burrow. If it is cloudy, it comes out and stays out and spring starts. If it is clear and sunny, it sees its shadow and scoots back into the burrow and winter doesn't end until the equinox. You know the story.

Here in Montana we are a long way from Pennsylvania (or Germany for that matter) and sometimes winter keeps coming back until late June, but if any critters peak out today, they are guaranteed to go back to bed. The sun is out and it is cold. The last few days, the temperatures only rarely peeked above zero degrees F, and mostly hovered in the negative teens. But today is brilliantly sunny and the mercury is climbing. It was 18 degrees already the last time I looked. The low angle sun is throwing shadows everywhere on the bright new snow. No groundhog shadows that I have noticed, but still...

Unlike the hibernators, I have been unable to resist going outside everyday since I've been back. The weather has been a roller coaster - snow, sun, cold, sun, snow, sun and so on. Plenty of solar gain for my electricity, plenty of base for my snowmobile. But most important, plenty of snow for skiing.

When I arrived back here a little over a week ago, it was a Sunday night, so Orea Creek Road hadn't been plowed and there was over a foot of fresh snow on it. The Beastie cruised through the fluffy stuff as if it wasn't even there and delivered me right to the waiting snowmobile. The snowmobile was frozen into a thick layer of ice from previous melting and it took some work to bust it free and get it home. As I dug it out, I found that the snow was layers of sugary snow separated by very firm, even ice-hard crusts. Evidence that the temperature roller coaster had been going all winter.

After a day or two of turning things back on, setting things up and getting groceries and mail, I woke up one morning and realized I had NOTHING that had to be done that day. Ah, what incredible luxury after the stress and frustration of the last month. Here was what I saw when I looked out my bedroom window.

A perfect day for a nice ski in the deep powder. As usual for the first ski of the year, I was awkward and stiff and my knees and muscles screamed their objection to this unaccustomed form of locomotion, but I had a great time.

Then it turned into a thaw - for several days the sun was out and the snow would melt in the daytime and freeze into an icy crust at night. Giant icicles formed as the ice slid off the roof, framing our views: Skiing was tricky, but rewarding in the fresh, springlike air. And when I got back from skiing, the deck was an inviting place to hang out in the sunshine.

Then the weather turned bitter cold and it started snowing again. Snow that falls at minus ten degrees and colder tends to be very dry and light, without much volume. Sure enough, after two full days of snow, we had only accumulated about three inches of very light snow that had frozen onto every surface of every bush and tree so that the whole world looked frozen.
I could not wait to get out into it. I skied past Jeff's house, then down into the valley almost to Orea Creek and then returned by climbing the ridge and following it back to the road below my house. Then I followed the snowmobile trail home.

The next day brought sun, but with sub-zero, freeze-your-nose-hair temperatures, which made for stunning scenery and, of course, good skiing. The trees were all flocked and each gust of breeze caused what looked like little smoke signals as the delicate, light crystals blew up off the branches and drifted across the forest.

Skiing uphill, my feet were plenty warm, but my hands began to get numb. Then I stopped and took off my climbing skins and made some fun turns, and by the time I got home, my hands were nice and toasty, but my toes were numb. I learned long ago that the thawing of numb feet must be done slowly as it is always painful. If, for instance, you hop in a warm shower right after your ski, you end up howling in pain when the hot water hits your frozen feet. So instead, I just plunked down in front of the woodstove with my stockinged feet on the hearth and drank tea and read a book to take my mind off the pain until the feeling was fully back. Then came the reward of the long, hot shower.

Today, the warming trend is starting again. Highs tomorrow are supposed to be in the 40s. Another layer of crust will form. Then on the weekend, cold weather again and more snow. This is a great ride. I could do this all winter. In fact, I think I will.