As my feet slip out from under me and my body hangs, suspended for two seconds, I have enough time to think - Well this wasn’t what I had envisioned - before I come crashing down. My fingers splay out, clutching at the ground, finding only unforgiving ice. I slide, and slide some more. My eyes glance to the edge of the 3 foot wide path.
What are the chances I stop before going over? I search for something to get my feet on. And then my brother grabs my hand. I stop. Hilarity ensues. We’re standing on a 30 percent grade incline, which isn’t the steepest thing I’ve ever climbed, but it is a solid sheet of ice. My legs shoot out at ridiculous angles, my tennis shoes finding zero traction. Were it not for the hand holding my hiking backpack, I’d start sliding downhill again. Somehow I manage to get upright. “I’m good,” I reassure everyone. “I’m good. Let’s keep going. It’s just a little ice.” I look up the path where my husband is. He’s clinging to a tree growing out the side of the mountain, which makes me giggle, but he gives me a thumbs up. So up we continue. We’re clearly not dressed for this hike past the Flatirons and up to the arch. We’ve seen other hikers coming down with heavy hiking boots or snow spikes. But we don’t own those, it’s March, and our hike yesterday had snow only to the side of the paths, so we figured, “Let’s give it a go! So we get muddy, snowy, wet, (fill in the blank). Shoes can be washed! We’re only in Colorado a short while.” What’s a little ice? I’m now halfway up to the next turn, still a good 30 feet from the top. It’s slow going, but I’m determined to get there. Two girls in their twenties who passed us earlier come back from around the bend. I hear them say, “It’s just not smart today… too slippery… We’ll come back in a few weeks.” They start a very precarious descent. On their heels are two more seasoned hikers, who pass the girls quickly. I raise my eyebrows. “No luck?” “It’s quite icy. There are steps on the other side of the turn, but they’re all iced over. We made it up, only to find another steep incline of ice. The mountain will be here another day.” She sighs and marches swiftly down the path on her snow spikes and out of sight. I look at my husband, who looks at my brother, who looks at his wife. Everyone nods. We go down. It turns out hiking down a sheet of ice is much harder than hiking up one. Which is how I end up on my bottom for a second time, this time by choice. Starting from the top, one by one, we sit down on the path, feet out in front, gloved hands trailing behind. Like little ducklings, we glide down the mountainside, laughter reverberating through the ravine. Sometimes life gives you lemons, so you make lemonade. Other times it gives you an unhike-able path, so you toboggan down instead!
4 Comments
Teri
3/10/2023 03:54:49 pm
Sliding down was the perfect choice. Great story!
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3/10/2023 07:26:16 pm
Such great imagery. Flatiron to the arch is a a big effort on a good day, can’t imagine navigating with ice.
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AuthorHeidi. Archives
March 2022
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