Adventure at Lake Mercer

It's seventeen degrees, five with the wind chill, and I cannot wait for better weather.  The snow is coming and several inches are expected.  I've got 62 days left before I fly to France to commence backpacking the Camino.   This is to be a training day and two of my closest, most adventurous friends, jump at the chance to join me.

We set off, the snow has been falling for an hour.  The roads are covered with an inch of snow before we even set foot out the door and we don't care.  It's a grand expedition on a white winter's day.  It is February after all.

Not long into our adventure we discover we cannot locate the trail head... because it's covered in snow.  It's not a well worn path so we settle for traveling beneath the power lines.  I think about cancer with every step and how this path is not appealing but we continue anyway because, what else are we going to do?  Turn around?  No.

We make a few creative turns away from the power lines and attempt to cross a nearly frozen river but think better of it, twice.  We cross a wooden footbridge, meander through the woods and find ourselves eventually returning to the damn power lines.  We can't seem to get away from them.   We arrive at a crossroads, or rather, intersecting pathways, and finally find what we think is the path we are meant to be on.  Up and down hills, through inches of snow falling and inches of snow well settled beneath us.  Two of us are over dressed.  One of us is not.  Two of us have frozen Camelbaks, one of us has a water bottle that is not solidified yet.  It must be cold.

We stumble upon a neighborhood in the distance and surmise that it might be wise to make our way there.  We do.  We continue to walk along the snow covered pavement; there are few cars, few people.  Everyone is inside and the ones that aren't eyeball us with curiosity.  What the hell are they doing?

We march a few miles more minding traffic and the occasional passing snow plow.  It's obvious the snow plows cannot keep up with the snow.  Four lane roads have become two lane roads; there is no time to clear the other lanes.  Finally we arrive at the lake's trail head.  I'm not sure how far we've walked but I'm grateful we arrived safely at our destination.

The cross wind is biting and I regret removing my balaclava.  The snow is slicing across my face and we decide to get off the berm.  We move swiftly across and discover a family sledding down a double embankment.  Mom, dad, two kids, and the family dog.  They are all there having an absolute ball.  No one else is at the lake but the eight of us.  They are missing out.

Our plans to encircle the lake were scrapped; making our way back seemed the more prudent thing to do.  We made good time on the way to the lake but the sun was beating us out.  We departed the lake and kept an expeditious pace on our way back.  We traveled by roadway instead of venturing under the carcinogenic seeping power lines; I'm not sure which path was less treacherous.

We arrived back nine miles later.  Three of us dry, two of us warm, one less so.  Piles of clothing filled the entry way as we peeled our layers.  Coffee was made, snacks were eaten, and conversation flowed. We warmed up, said our goodbyes, and parted ways; it was another adventure that won't soon be forgotten.