About a year and a half ago, Jess and Torsten visited Chicago, and Nilsa and I had the pleasure of meeting them in person.  It was March, and Chicago was experiencing a freak spring snowstorm.  Poor Torsten in particular looked miserable, and as he and Jess were getting into a cab at the end of the day, she confided in me: “Chicago used to be on our short list of cities we might move to, but after this weather, there’s no way Torsten would ever move here.” So instead, they moved to Denver.

I spent the last several days in Denver, which happens to be home to my dear friend Pookie.  I also caught up with Jess for a fruitless shopping trip in search of boots that fit my narrow calves.  Note to bootmakers: PLEASE SOMEONE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MAKE BOOTS THAT DON’T LOOK LIKE GALOSHES ON NARROW-CALVED GIRLS.

Ahem.

The day after the boot bust, I decided to take myself on a hike.  I was in Denver mid-week, so Pookie was working, and I thought “this is what vacation is all about! Relaxing! Hiking! Taking in the scenery!”  I researched hikes in the front range/Boulder area, picked on that was a moderate-sounding 4.5 miles, and set off.

I drove out of Denver towards the hills.  After about 20 minutes, I noticed something strange about the landscape:

What is that white stuff dusting the side of the road?  Isn’t it still summer? Yes, technically it’s the final day of summer, but still.  SUMMER.

As I drove on, it became clear that the mountains had not gotten the “it’s still summer” memo.

I found the trailhead and parked.  There were probably 6 inches of snow on the ground. I was wearing jeans and running shoes.  This was not going to be pretty.  But, I thought to myself, I drove myself this far, and I’m on vacation in Colorado, and I’m going to HIKE, goddammit.  Through the snow.

Also, um, my feet are going to be a little wet.

So I hiked the 4.5 mile hike through the snow.  Large menacing clumps of snow kept falling off the trees and scaring the bejesus out of me as they landed with a loud whump. But when I got to the top of the loop and saw the view, I was pretty glad I had done it.

On the way back to the car, I encountered a group of four women and eight dogs, hiking together.  I could tell they were actually from Colorado, because they were wearing boots and snowpants. I had not thought to pack such things for my summer trip.

“Wow, you feel safe enough to hike this trail alone?” one of them asked me.

“Well, I did, until you said that!” I said. “I’m from out of town, maybe I just don’t know any better?”

“Well, I would never hike a trail like this alone,” she said, and then walked off.

I didn’t ask her what she meant by “a trail like this.”  I’m choosing to believe she meant “one covered in unexpected summer snow” rather than “one where the military has been testing land mines” or “one located in such close proximity to the breeding ground for angry badgers”.

So, hiking in the snow: good times. But Jess, I have to say: a full on SNOWSTORM in SUMMER is way way way more extreme than the weather in Chicago, and yet you guys moved to Denver anyway.  Just sayin’.