Frosty

I mentioned in my last post that I had visited Petit Jean State Park on a very cold morning a couple of weeks ago.  I decided I would hike the trail to the base of Cedar Falls, which is probably the park’s most popular location. . .unless the temperature is only 12°F, and there’s a light breeze blowing.

Knowing the hike back would be pretty strenuous, I took my time as I made my way to the falls in an effort to conserve my energy for the trip back.  Arriving at the falls, I was all alone as I had expected and, frankly, had planned for.

I had been to this area many times, but it had been years since I was last there, so I spent just a few short minutes getting familiar with the area.  It didn’t take long before the cold began to make its presence known to my fingers, and I decided to get the camera out and photograph what I could.

Looking around, I spotted these rocks that had a very light covering of frost on them, presumably from the spray of the waterfall.  There were two things that caught my eye. The first was the contrast between the white of the frost against the dark shapes of the rocks.  The second was the contrast between the transitory nature of the frost against the permanance of the rocks.

A few minutes after this, I packed up my gear and began making my way back up the trail. I was only about a hundred yards from the falls when I met a young woman heading the opposite direction.  We said good morning and went on our way.  I didn’t think much more about that.

I finally reached the strenuous part of the hike back, but I wasn’t too concerned about it.  After all, I had been taking my time and saving my energy for just this part of the trail.  Bring it on!

It brought it, all right.  I went maybe five minutes before I had to stop and take a break.  Starting again, I managed to go about another two or three minutes before I needed another break.  And on and on this went – go a minute or two or three and take a break, go another minute or two or three and take another break.

I probably repeated this pattern a half dozen times.  But, what was most embarrassing about it was that, as I was bent over huffing and puffing on one of my rest breaks, the young woman I had said good morning to earlier walked by me as if she was going downhill instead of up.  I’m actually surprised she didn’t call for the park ranger to come assist the old guy having a heart attack on the trail.

Ultimately, I was able to get back to the top and trudge my way to my truck and head home.  As to why I had so much difficulty getting back up the mountain, I told myself it was because I was carrying an extra 15 or 20 pounds of camera equipment; otherwise, I would be going up that mountain with no problem at all.

Of course, that’s not really true, but that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!