Tragically, the in-depth entry I was just working on got lost when I got kicked off-line suddenly. Hardly ever happens.
I was sharing all the soaring and inspiring details about my snowshing/backpacking trip up in the Sierras, but alas, I will have to reminisce at another time, as I am tired and I don't feel like typing the whole thing up again.
But the point I was getting at, was that I am grateful to the people who rescued me from certain death off the mountain side.
Mr Y for somehow getting my pack up the vertical, snow covered mountainside, carrying my snow shoes, boiling lots of water for me, and graciously letting opening his tent to me. (we will always have the gravel at Hope Lake. :) )
Mr G for utterly disarming me by offering to carry any heavy stuff I had. ( he ended up taking the nalgene, sleeping bag and the snow shoes on the way back)
Mr A for his endless patience in talking me up the scary, icy, near vertical cliff from the tree that stopped my fall, for always waiting for me and letting me rest when I lost my breath and couldn't go any further, for organizing the trip and for his constant concern for my well-being (like making sure my feet were warm and that I ate enough food). And so much more. I promise I will return the gloves. :)
Ms E for being fun, witty, a great tent mate, for teaching me to sled on a yoga mat and generally encouraging.
And for Ms M for having the best survival experience ever (that we all got to vicariously enjoy) I won't go into the whole thing here... But she was stranded in the snow, snow-shoed for hours in the right direction on an almost moonless night, slept in the trees all alone, and nearly froze and snow-shoed some more and hitchhiked to the Kirkwood lodge the next morning. Cost to the taxpayers; $0.
In addition, she was cheerful and up-beat the rest of the time. We had a great time driving home through the valleys, listening to Garrison Keillor, Kfog and talking girl-talk.