After a decade my body has definitely adjusted, and now I find that the mountain air has a certain curative effect. Thus, after a week of fighting a respiratory virus, we decided to head up into the snow for a little Altitude Wellness. Mountains cure everything.
We drove up late Friday night and arrived at the cabin right after dusk. As we started to unload the car we heard a low huff to the right of the deck. Bedded down directly in front of the cabin was a large bull elk and his harem. My logic is always overridden in wildlife situations, so instead of being concerned about being gored to death by a male elk during the end of rut season, I ran up on the deck and started chatting him up (he was unimpressed). I would show you a picture but we kindly unpacked, turned off outside lights, and left them alone. In the middle of the night there was the sound of elk bugling right outside the cabin–an eerie, wailing sound. If you are ever with me in the woods–you know, for whatever reason–know that you should just run and let the bears eat me when I try to rub their bellies. I have poor wildlife boundaries.
Yesterday the winds were extremely high and the temps were hovering just above freezing, so we pulled on hats and headed up to Bear Lake. We spent a while tramping around in the snow, snapping photos and enjoying the lack of crowds (during the summer Bear Lake is a zoo, and not because of the bears).
We then headed for Sprague Lake and did a lap around, snapping more pics. Walking with the wind wasn’t too bad, but heading back it was like fighting through the windswept tundra. Bitter and blinding.
Harrison was dressed more for a stroll in the English countryside, but his ears still looked alright when we made it back to the cabin.
So yeah, I stayed in the car.