I left Austin for a ski trip around one in the morning during Christmas break. Our original plan was to leave at midnight, but we were delayed by a  few unexpected last minute details that had to be attended to.  Our logic behind leaving so late was that it would be daylight when we arrived, and we would also be able to sleep in the car.  We estimated it would take fifteen hours, but it ended up taking us six hours longer than expected to reach our destination, Grand Junction.  We spent the night at a friends house, and then headed out for Powderhorn the next day.  Powderhorn is a small resort about an hour from Grand Junction. The drive from Grand Junction to Powderhorn was so beautiful.  I had never seen anything like it in my past trips to Colorado.  I felt weak when looking at the mountains surrounding me.  There was the chill of winter in the air and icy water flowing over rocks and under bridges.  Then we were at Powderhorn.
 

I spent a few days skiing at Powderhorn before my body and mind began to tire from racing down the mountains.  I needed an escape.  My plan was
to spend the day laying on the couch like a vegetable and watching television.  Instead, my friend, Carolyn decided to talk me into taking a hike,
something I was very unwilling to do at the time.  Carolyn, who is my roommate back at school, is always up for a good adventure.   She is more of a
doer than I am.  What I mean by that is that  I am always talking about doing things, and often find myself not  motivated enough to actually charge out and follow through with my plan.  It is so easy to fall into this rut.  She was as tired as I was of the icy snow we had been experiencing on the slopes.  I mentioned to Carolyn the idea of taking a walk, not having any intentions on following through with my plan.   I was simply trying to justify staying off
the slopes.   I did not expect her to get all riled up over the idea.  While she got pumped up about hiking,  I prayed that she might change her mind
and go  sking so that I could attend to the couch.  Next thing I know Mike, another friend on the ski trip is deciding to go hiking with us. I was quickly
wishing I had kept my mouth shut.  I saw my lazy plan unravel.  After some consideration and heavy persuasion, I did finally come around.  I was
going on a hike!! In the snow!!

We found out we needed to rent snowshoes for our adventure.  So we walked to the rental store to invest in these foreign objects that we were to
place on our feet. While at the rental shop we asked the clerk where the good novice hiking was.  She said she had never been snowshoeing before,
but she had heard there was good hiking up the road from the resort.  She told us that we should follow a cross country trail and that we would find
one around Mesa Lakes.(in the photo above)  We decided to follow her advice and thanked her for the help.  Then we grabbed our gear which
consisted of  warm clothes, the snowshoes, and trash bags for our shoes.  Since we did not have water resistant shoes we used trash bags as raincoats for our feet by wrapped them around our shoes and tied them with twist ties.  This seemed to work fairly well.   Once we had our gear together we
hopped in the car and  headed for Mesa Lakes, a few miles up from Powderhorn. As Carolyn, Mike and myself began cruising up the road we became aware that we were in for an adventure.

Not knowing exactly where we were headed, we stopped at an area on the side of the road.  Then we placed the snowshoes, which were about triple the size of our heads, on our garbage bag covered shoes. We examined ourselves, between the shoes and the garbage bags we looked like little
ducklings learning how to wobble about.  The truth is that we looked strange;  heck, we stuck out like a sore thumbs.  That did not stop us though!!!
 

We noticed a couple out cross-country skiing, staring oddly at us. I tried to avoid them at first because I knew we looked a bit ridiculous, and I was even a little embarrassed. Here we were in this beautiful place and I felt like a fool. Next thing I know, Carolyn's asking the couple if they wouldn't mind taking a picture of us, to which they agreed.  After taking a picture(which is to the left), we began to get into a conversation about nature and the wonders of it.  We talked about how lucky we were that we are able to experience an area that had not been turned into tourist central.  The Mesa Lake and Powderhorn area is quite different from other ski areas such as Vail and Breckenridge, which have become toney.  The couple talked about how their lives had been influenced by nature.  They encouraged us to continue caring for nature and enjoying it.  We all realized that a difference was being made in this conversation.  It was a feeling of hope.  The hope and confidence that we would carry on the beliefs and love for nature that this couple had expressed to us with such sincerity.  As we all talked together, there seemed to be a connection among us. A feeling rushed through my body.  The feeling was that we were meant to be at this very spot, at this very time. Carolyn, Mike and I all knew that this was a fateful adventure.  Finally, we parted from our new friends, and looked over at the frosty lake, which gleamed with a reflection from the rays of the sun. Despite the fact that the lake was frozen like an ice cube, a minute part of me wondered if the ice was going to break as I clumsily walked over its surface. This worry did not stay with me long. The lake was too inviting to decline. I understood why they called the area Mesa Lakes; they were as flat and slick as a table top. This table, top lake was more beautiful than any table I had ever seen.  Snow had accumulated around the lake creating boarders, as you can see in the picture below.  A soft feeling radiated from these loosely packed clumps of snow;  it was a feeling similar to a down-comforter.  In the picture below you are able to get a feel for the snows soft touch as Mike begins to fall into.  He feel into the snow as one would fall into a soft inviting comforter.
 

It was time for me to plunge in. As I rolled over the small mound of snow, which surrounds the lake, my body felt a tingle.  It felt cold but soothing.  I watched as my body made imprints in the snow; it was amazing how it formed around my limbs.   I was  make my mark; even if it was to eventually become covered by a new blanket of snow. I thought to myself, all the better. Maybe this new form in the snow can be a secret; a secret between you(the snow) and me.
 

I began to tumble to the bottom of the mound, on to the ice layered loch. Here I  began the test of the snow shoes; they were also known as elephant feet in my mind. I took cautious, light-footed steps. My footsteps were similar to a child tapping the ice bricks when playing the game, Don't Break the Ice. After a few steps I began to feel safe, wishing I had some ice skates to glide across the strong ice.

As we neared the opposite side of the lake we began heading for the graceful separations in the snow.  It was as if someone had glided right through the snow leaving a path in hopes that someone else would follow.  These pathways had been made by cross-country skiers, we presumed. We felt like animals of the forest, following the tracks left behind for us. We were searching like animals. We were looking for a direction, a way to veer.We walked a while in the bright open light of the sun, until we reached the trees. Once in the trees the sun was broken up into little pieces. The trees had scattered the pieces all over the place. The trees had caused a beautiful kaleidoscope view. No longer were we on the snow skiers path. This caused me to examine my feet. I watched as my legs moved and the snow shoes hovered the ground. The snow shoes allowed for my body to float. I did not sink deep into the snow as I would have without the snowshoes. It was a thrilling sensation to be able to walk with such ease. The once clumsy shoes
became graceful.

We walked along the packed snow, sometimes stopping to take a deep breath of fresh cool air. With each breath it was possible to feel winter around us. We smelt the soft scent from the trees, as the cold air filled our mouths and flowed into our lungs. I can remember the way the snow felt on my tongue as it touched the roof of my mouth. It was a numb, wet sensation that would disappear just as you began to enjoy it. Leaving us with the desire for more snow to dissolve and run over our lips, into our mouths.  It is a rejuvenating effect that the world around Mesa Lakes gave us.
 
 

Our journey took us past a small group of cabins surrounding a lake.  The lake had a bridge that you had to cross to continue into the woods. The bridge was at the spout of one of the lakes.  Sun reached this lake with such vibrancy, causing it to not have an entirely frozen surface.  Water was still flowing in this lake, pushing itself out by way of creek. At the bridge we stopped for a little while to rest and take in this unique, flowing creek.(The picture of the creek, above, is take from the bridge.)  I watched the water flow over the rocks.  The water glided through the rocks and snow like a snake.  It was amazing the way this creek ran so smoothly, so undisturbed.  It looked so inviting, but I knew it was too cold. Had it been summer, I would have plunged into the water without a second thought.

We began to cross the bridge, made of logs woven together. The logs of the bridge, and the way they were connected seemed almost as if a beaver had a hand in constructing it.  I reminded of a time when I was about eight years old, and I went searching for beavers around Eagle Vail with  family.  We took a hike around some small lakes in the area.  I remember coming up to a soft smooth lake which had a dam at the spout.  My dad told me that beavers had made it.  I was amazed.  I stood there looking at this amazing creation, which was a collaboration of twigs of all shapes woven together.  I thought to myself how much work that beaver must have done to build that dam.  As I stood on the small construction hovering slightly above the water I had a feeling of what it was to be a beaver on their dam.

We carried on through the snow, searching for more, more of anything we might see. We passed some more cabins which seemed abandoned for the winter. Snow had covered them to where the doors and windows would not have opened. At this point, we were trudging through some very deep snow. My snowshoes began to lose their grace, or I suppose it could have been me losing my balance. I began to stumble quite often, sometimes from the snow, sometimes from the help of my all too willing friends.  Each time I got another taste of the snow. It was a colder and less desirable than before.  I was beginning to get tired.  I wanted to retire my snowshoes and head off for a cup of hot chocolate.
 

We were just about to turn back, that was until we saw this beautiful mountain which was just over the creek from us. This is when everything began to get exciting. We hopped over and between rocks trying to get to the other side of the creek. You would not have even know we were crossing a creek because it was cover with snow.  There were only a few small gaps in the snow where a small thawing piece of ice peaked through.  Soon we got to the other side of the partially frozen creek. (above is a picture of Carolyn and I at the base of the mountain right after crossing the creek.  I looked up the mountain and saw boulders protruding from the snow and an angle slightly stepper than I wanted to endeavor.  I  thought to myself, "this is awfully steep; I don't know if I can make it to the top."  I was comparing the way I felt with the way someone might feel climbing Mt. Everest. We all have our own mountains to climb. Mine just might be a whole lot smaller, and I am probably a bit more afraid of heights than your "average" Mt. Everest climber. I knew I had to try; I would have regreted it if I had not tried to climb it. Climbing up was not my greatest fear, it was the idea of having to come back down while being surrounded by the rigid edges of the rocks and trees.

I did keep climbing. We planted our snowshoes and hands into the snowy earth and thrust ourselves up.  Every once in a while we would slide a bit, even tumble a short ways, barely missing boulders. I had my friends go before me because I did not trust my judgement in calculating where gaps in the snow lyed.  I carefully placed one hand, then the other.  My hands were followed by my feet.  My gloves began to fill with snow but I hardly noticed.  I was so driven to reach the peak that the possibility of frostbite was not going to get in my way.  It was all part of the excitement. All I had to do to remind myself to keep going to the top was to look out and see everything, around and below me.  The things I was able to see as I got higher were not visible at the foot of the mountain. I wanted to see more!
 
 

After taking one step at a time we eventually made it to the top. It was a beautiful sight.  I sat down on a rock which was peeking out from the snow.  Its coolness sent a shiver up my spine, which was soon thawed by the streams of the sun which reached out from the sky and slipped through my body.  I watched as the horizon changed color and the wind whispered through the mountains.  There was a slight breeze in the air and the sun was just beginning to descend behind the mountains. It was the most beautiful part of the day.  Oranges, reds, blues, purples and yellows filled the sky. I just wanted to savor this beauty.  I got a feeling, one which I often get when looking at sunsets.  My body swelled up, and I felt strong enough to succeed in what ever lies ahead.  Life seems much more meaningful at this moment.  All of the chaos of the day seems to disappear, and the preceding day makes sense.  The sunset is a reminder to me that each day must end, and another one will soon begin.  With each new day comes the sunrise which is born from the sunset of the day before.  It is a chance for a new beginning.

Too soon it was time to go down the mountain. I did not want to leave this pristine place. I did, though, only because it was getting colder and darker.
Going down the mountain did prove to be more fun that I expected.  I did not really want to walk bipedally down the mountain, because I was afraid
that my clumsiness would take over. So, instead, I sat down on my butt and lifted my arms and legs, making a sled out of myself.  My arms waved,
and my heart was beating rapidly.  Adrenaline was flowing.  I felt like rolling down it like I use to roll down the grass hills at Zilker Park when I was
young.  I would run to the top of the hill and let gravity take over.  I would have rolled in the same way down this mountain if it had not been for the
pointy, unwelcoming rocks.  Gravity did however allow for an awesome ride down that mountain.  I slid through the snow, which now was colder
than ever, to the bottom of the mountain.

We retraced our steps. On the way back we were calm and quiet. I think we all had the same feeling going through our bodies. We had all been
amazed and touched by the gifts that God allowed us to experience. There was a peace among us.