December 6, 2016. BOHART RANCH, BRIDGER MTS.
I wish I had a photo of tonight's waxing crescent moon. Go out and look at it. That's the warm reflected winter luminescence that guided me out of the modest backcountry of the Bridger Mountains tonight.
After half a day's work on "Tree of Life" and some chores, I headed for Bohart Ranch, up Bridger canyon, for a respite of late-afternoon ski touring. Got there about 3:30 pm, way too late, it was 7 degrees or so, but as I signed in John at the Bohart lodge said, "It's a winter wondrland out there!" That's the spirit. I had my headlamp, knowing that I was pushing the window of daylight. Started out, got half a mile, fingers were freezing in my little gloves, came back for my serious mittens. Out again. No one on the trails--except one guy, who blew past me because he was skating and I was doing diagonal stride. (I don't skate ski because 1) I'm old and lazy and 2) when I ski tour, I want to meditate, not hyperventilate.) Skied out alone for about an hour, on lovely snow, as it got dark. Didn't quite go up to Logger's Loops this time, atop the Bohart area, because I knew that takes me a bit longer. Looped back around after an hour and headed toward the lodge, somewhere amid these branching trails. Now it got dusky. Headlamp still in the fanny pack. Should I pull it out? Naw. I knew that we were graced with a waxing crescent moon tonight, and that therefore it would be up early, long before sunset, casting a fair bit of light onto the snow. So I slid on, through the darkening, with good visibility on the two-track trail. Exquisite. Silence. Lodgepole pines and subalpine firs. The ridge of the Bridgers in the distance. Nobody else on the trails. I got back to the car after two hours, sweaty. I knew that John, living over the Bohart garage, would come out and look for me sometime before midnight if