New Year’s Day at Hurricane Ridge

Hurricane Ridge, in the northern part of Olympic National Park, is at the end of the thick red line. This is the first time we’ve visited in winter; though access is relatively straightforward, the road is icy (all vehicles have to carry chains to go up). On a clear day, it’s a magical and awe-inspiring place.

Grandma K gave me her set of gently-used x-country skis several years ago. They’re excellent skis, (Järvinen, a Finnish maker) but everything decays eventually and yesterday the ski pole baskets broke off bit by bit as I was getting my ski legs back under me. It’s been way too long! Resolutions to come skiing more often were flying thick.

Just behind B, you can see a blue tint to the depression in the snow–snow accumulation of more than a meter tends to reflect blue light. Magic: making a deep footprint or a hole in a deep embankment was creating a brilliant turquoise well of color.