Thanks to Hank Lange’s relentlessly cheerful motivational emails, I was inspired to join in a 5:00 AM snowshoe hike to the top of Mount Wantastiquet (which Siri hears as “one testicle”). Somehow, he got 20 people out of bed for this annual event.
A few inches of fresh snow fell yesterday, but it cleared up overnight so the full moon shone through the trees, making headlamps almost unnecessary. No wind, temperature in the teens, cold but manageable. In the context of tromping around on a mountain in the dark in the winter, it was perfect.
At the top, we clustered around the cell tower, which hosts a big lighted star in the winter, and drank Bailey’s from paper medicine cups. Again: in context, perfect.