Lid Frost

If you are like me you hear a forecast high temperature of 7 or 8 degrees below 0 and your mind screams: "Hike!" So it was yesterday, that such a forecast was predicted, and I heard the call. It was easy to dismiss as bravado--who would know? But, after an hour where nothing else seemed able to compensate for the urge, I got ready.
Nothing is worse than to sweat in arctic conditions--the chill that seeks these moistened areas can shudder your core temp and cut a good time short--so I layered with care, alternating cotton, blend and full synthetic, I would regret a poly-cotton denim  jeans choice for my legs, but only a bit. Army issue arctic flap cap in olive drab and high top moccasins laced tight, over fleece and blended socks. Gorilla glove liners under a cheap pair of fleece gloves, a water bottle and I was off; a fact noted in my wife's raised eyebrow as I set forth.
Sub zero air hits the throat like a continuous menthol cough drop, and takes a while to find the right rate. Over the bunker, past the fox hole and I was on the Heritage  Trail in Lancaster NH, less than a thousand feet from my new home. Turning east, and setting a good pace brought a flush, so I quickly loosened the cap a scarf and tried to equalize pace with energy. The result was lid frost:


At the beaver dam, I snapped this (amazing what the suns light will reflect off of!), and continued for another half hour into the lower Kilkenny Range. The trails were groomed for snow machines and after so much easy pack, I plunged into a beckoning, but ill-used, side trail.
It was about twenty minutes into a morass of criss-crossing trails and steady elevation that I realized my phone battery/GPS was down to 1% power, for having pinged itself dead looking for a tower. No big deal, under normal conditions, but I was starting to feel a bite in various places--including my brain.

I stopped at a junction, guaged the sun and just wasn't sure...
It was like my inner compass wouldn't communicate with my 'commiter'. Discretion being the ever better part of valor, I turned onto a bearing that would have to cross my path...not even a hundred feet and I hit the snow machine trail and was heading home. A great hike, one breath of wind would have changed all that, though. The glory of sun on snow through frost-blurred glasses, put a glow on everything I saw on the way.