Sunday, January 8, 2012

Short Girl Disappears in Snow

Basically, I'm a city girl. Everything I know about being outside I learned either in Central Park or somewhere in the last year and half since I've been in Scotland. Mostly, I'd say I try to be free-spirited about it, even when I'm slipping on moss-covered boulders and whatnot, but sometimes, the elements really test the equipment. And I don't just mean my boots or jacket. (Though it does sometimes seem like no matter what I do, I'm never prepared enough.) 

What I mean is the gear I was born with-- most especially, my legs. They're just short. I'm less than five foot two anyhow, but essentially, I'm all torso. This was made painfully obvious to me last week when we went on two really very beautiful snowy walks in Perthshire. Everything was silvery and green and glowing. 

We had to chase Torcuil the dog around for ages when he wouldn't get in the car (and eventually he would run along side the car, kill a hare, and finally be foiled by a cattle grate) and as we marched up the mountain, wind whipping in our faces, it was a lot easier for some of us than others.  Six foot three Gordon bounded along with the dog and Susie, though not much taller, had much better boots. Luckily for me, as it seemed like I was slowly just sinking into the snow, Susie decided to hang back to keep me company. Bless. 

The view of the loch from the top was genuinely stunning. White caps and vicious contrasting colors to match the vicious wind and stingy snowflakes daggers. I wish I'd had the equipment to catch a proper photo of what we saw. It was great. 

In short (ha), while I don't know that I'll ever be as hearty in the snow as the Brits, it's nice to have folks around who don't put up with any city bullshit and just trudge on. They keep me honest. 

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