I had promised Skye that we would make it up to the snow, up to Mammoth on our trip to the West Coast.
The window of opportunity was closing quickly, so we jumped.
I was still pretty beat up from the pair of Spartan races I had done in the days before, but the High Sierras were calling.
And who am I to break promises or deny the mountain siren's song.
I'm not so good at taking it easy.
In fact, I'm really bad at it.
And I'm OK with that.
But this time "taking it easy" was as much on the "to do" list as any number of things.
For one I couldn't afford to get sick with the social schedule of the upcoming weekend which includes a Black-Tie event that we are going to strictly to network. Well mostly to network. Point being I was definitely fighting a little something that was brought on by wrecking my body with the Spartan races.
So I slept in and took naps. But I was going to get out and enjoy what the mountain had to offer.
Might as well try something new while we're at it. Truth be told, I decided to snow-shoe rather than ski for several reasons, economic as well as health. Mind you, my ankle was still tender from the slip in the mud I had, so skiing be it downhill or cross-country would put the ankle at risk. Snow-shoeing definitely worked the joint but only a couple of times did it twinge at all.
Snow covered roads and such can be a little disorienting to say the least.
It took a little getting used to that the path we were on was the same road that we would drive up to Lake Mary on at other times of the year.
So when we came to a lake, I assumed it was Mary's Lake, but there are quite a few lakes up here, so I wasn't quite sure until on our way back I spotted this sign which most of the year would tower over me.