Three Lessons from a Morning March in the Wind.
Chip and I walked Pearl this morning in the glorious sunshine, bright white snow and clear blue sky- honestly, it's prettier than a postcard if you can get out of the wind. I couldn't take a picture because it was blowing so hard my fingers would have frozen, plus, removing the camera from my warm pocket in this weather fogs then frosts the lens. But If I had that camera, you would have seen us wrapped up in face masks, hunched into the wind marching toward Canada as fast as we could, until we reached the turnaround and pointed our feet at Mexico with the wind at our backs, and faces tilted up at the views instead of down at our boots. It is so much nicer walking with the wind than pushing against it. Halfway home we ran into Doc Feldman and his puppy Cookie, and we all stopped to visit. We told him to turn around, it's much better walking with the wind. He squinted through the breath-frosted gap in his balaclava and said this must be a protestant thing-- earning your reward through suffering. He's Jewish, but said he had lived here long enough to adopt some of the local Presbyterian culture. He is also a sailor, and said that's another reason to walk both directions. Typically, you plan each trip so that you beat into wind on the way out and return with sails running in front of it. That way, coming home is more fun than leaving. He wished us a good day, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his parka, and leaned into that cold Chilkat Blue Norther.