From the diary of a weekend warrior: Prairie Mountain
"You weren't kidding when you said you weren't in top shape these days," Ian said. I tried to think of a witty rejoinder but nothing better than "Nope" came to mind. I lifted a leg and plunged it into the faceted snow in front of me. When I weighted it, it sank in to mid-thigh. Awkwardly pulling the other leg out of the depths, I repeated the process. Ploughing through bottomless facets to the Trophy Wall on Mt. Rundle can feel like a workout at the best of times. Yet somehow the steep trees and crotch-deep snow seemed especially trying today. At long last we crested the rib below the routes and traversed onto wind-scoured scree. Crossing one last lee-loaded slope, we contoured just below where the snow petered out into bare rock, before dropping our packs in a wind scoop. I would've liked to linger and enjoy lunch high above the valley floor but snow crystals swirled in sudden gusts around our alcove, and bare fingers quickly grew numb. In between ...