Adventures in UP land

When I headed up to the UP (upper peninsula of MI, for those of you not in the know), I expected freezing cold. I packed three pairs of mittens/gloves, scarf and hat. Then I acquired another pair of gloves and scarf in route to MI, so I was extra prepared. I guess that I forgot to take global warming into account. I had this idea that I would go out snow shoeing for hours on end into the wilderness with the bobcats and bunny rabbits, just like I used to. I only had jeans and my hiking boots, but I thought that I would be all right anyway. My dad tracked down my snowshoes and dusted them off for me. The snow has been preparing for my trek, neatly pilling up like a Tetris game for months. I snuggled in the night before waiting for the bright light of day. The next morning was magical. My dad showed me his magic chickadee trick, inviting them right inside his door way.



The little birds flitted in and out of the door and along with them came a strip of fog. Fog???…in the winter…that can’t be right. I looked out to see all of my luscious snow…gone. As I sadly watched my adventure fade, my dad convinced me to try out the snowshoes anyway. I went out in my PJs (yes, PJ’s in Dec in the UP) and snowshoes to test the conditions. I may as well not have been wearing them, because the snow wasn’t very deep. I sank almost to the ground and my snowshoes got coated in sticky snow, weighing about fifty pounds each. No snow shoes, but maybe I didn’t need them. That was it; I would go anyway, sans snowshoes. It would be just like old times on those random occurrences where I could walk on top of the snow, only this time I would not be walking on top of the snow. Now I had a new problem. I had counted on the snowshoes to keep the snow away from my boot tops. Not to worry though… I had this covered. I borrowed an old stretched out pair of socks from my dad, cut off the toes and stretched them over my pant legs and boot tops, like a pair of gaiters… only grayer.


I was prepared…chickadees were fed…the oatmeal had been eaten. We were off. And we got about ¼ mile off the trail and decided that it wasn’t the activity of the day. The very wet snow, while prevented from packing into the top of my boots by my makeshift gaiters, was not prevented from melting through my pant legs. It turns out that even melting and soggy snow is cold. A short time later we returned to the house to find that the latch had not caught and the door was ajar. Sure enough, there were chickadees flying around in the house that needed to be herded out the door. I never thought that I would herd chickadees, but now my life is complete.