"It'll be about 40 degrees," they said.
"Looks like it's going to be a sunny week!" they said.
"Perfect time of the year to get out and enjoy the fall colors," they said.
"They," of course, are weathermen (and weatherwomen, as it were). "They," of course, need a good slap to the face.
Less than twelve hours after we arrived at base camp, it started snowing. While I was perfectly happy to feel snow on my face after months in the one-season wonder that is southern California, and I was toasty warm in my insulated Cabela's gear, snow does present certain difficulties when hunting in the middle of nowhere. Challenges range from inconvenient (like ATV's that take minutes to heat, "can I pee now without freezing" trips into the woods, and cold tea), to troublesome (parts that snap in the freeze, clothes that get wet and won't dry, anyone who believes in both weathermen and the tooth fairy and lacks warm clothing), to life-threatening (our request for a medivac out after a man in our party had a stroke was denied because the snow socked in so low the planes could not safely navigate the mountains to get to us. He is fine, but that is another conversation.)
What was more surprising than the weather was how absolutely happy it made me. I glued my camera to my hand and dashed from one point to another, attempting to capture everything. What we could see of the mountains looked so different in the gloom; the camp fire was even brighter; the campsite was even cozier than normal, a beacon of warmth and respite from rivers and wind.
I was not the only one flitting about camp. I greeted one morning after a hard freeze (but no snow that night) by taking my usual walk-about-camp to see if there was anything around worth taking a picture of before we took off up the river bed for moose. As I rounded back toward the tents, I came across the most remarkable sight - fresh wolf prints less than 100 feet from my tent! It was clear where the animal had approached, sat down to watch, moved a bit closer, sat again, then departed. There were a single set of prints, about 3/4 the size of my hand, and we estimated the animal weighed about 120-150 pounds.
Does life offer anything more humbling than mountains in the morning, snow, and the knowledge that something is always watching?
