Into the Chill (how my cold hands n feet stayed warm)

(Disclaimer: the links are for those who want to know what gear I am talking about... I have accumulated it over the years, and bought most of the pieces on clearance sales. If I were shopping today I might try Campmor. They often have bargain prices.)

Yesterday at 3pm a good new habit kicked in... the urge to go for a walk hit me.

The temp was a single digit. 1.... below. This is how to stay warm: I slipped another long john (cuddleduds) over my silks, swapped my jeans for insulated ski bibs, and added a light hoodie to my thermal top. I slipped a second insole into my McMurdos (I got them a size too big to allow for extra layers).

My head warmed with a bacalava, the hoodie, and a railroad cap, I put up the hood of my winter coat and put on my toaster mittens, and I was ready. BiL and I grabbed our hiking poles along with some water (just in case) and walked into the fine snowfall. We had not gotten far when BiL went back for an extra top layer. I paced to get my heart rate up while I waited. He rejoined me, and we headed along Pistol Road. My vague goal was the mailbox, 2.5 miles away, but neither of us knew if even one of us would make it. As we walked along, I realized I was enjoying my self-created warmth all the way down to my toes! This is really unusual for me... I am always the one cramming toe warmers into my boots when I ski.

BiL had decided to keep walking with me beyond his usual turn around point. What I did not know was that as I was adding base layers, he simply had worn his jeans. He kept saying "keep talking to me, Rox, and if I don't think about it, I can walk farther." The farther we walked, the greater the depth of ice on the road. And, not unexpectedly, by the time we got to the pasture, we were feeling a light wind, but that's all it took to ache any exposed skin.

BiL's titanium knee was hurting with each step by this time, but there was nothing to do but go on once we crossed the tracks. We picked up the pace as much as we dared on the ice, got the mail, and hurried back over the tracks... we DID NOT want to get stuck by the trains that regularly stop there to share the pass's rail space with oncoming engines and their loads. Thank God, no trains came and we cleared them. The winter sun, already dim behind the snowclouds, was beginning to set, dusk coming on.

In the eerie half-light, a deep point on my hip told me about the dropping temperature with every step, even tho I did not feel cold at all. I was breaking a sweat beneath all my layers and felt very comfortable otherwise. I could only imagine the discomfort of my honey, several paces ahead of me most of the time, hurrying to relief that he knew waited next to our woodstove.

We made it, and my thoughts along the way kept going in amazement to those who have lived in these conditions with so much less comfort clothing. Our plains ancestors, and those who lived through these Montana winters in so many years past, were not taking walks for exercise or self-challenge. They were out there, finding water, hunting, feeding livestock, and keeping the home fires burning daily, to bring about a future. From the earliest residents in their lodges, to the settlers and miners, I thought about what a short step of time it was from their tracks to mine. How well would I survive day to day without the ease of the well, the furnace, the grocery store, and the car? Would I? While we baked pizza, we checked the thermometer... 6 below. We'd been out 2 hours.

When we had come in, we had brought a basket of wood up with us for the fire. I thought I would keep it burning through the night, but the fresh air must have relaxed me to the core, as I got the best night's sleep in recent memory. Just six hours after I went to bed I got up feeling fully rested, and built the first fire of the -14 morning.

And here I sit, looking out at fine snow continuing to drift down, anticipating Christmas shopping with a high forecast at -1. The shopping is BiL's idea. I know what gear I will be wearing.