It was cold, as I expected it to be, at seven in the morning and there was frost on the grass and roadside shrubbery. The few patches of open water on shallow Spillway Lake were covered with overnight ice, the sheets lined with dendritic patterns. The snowy peaks to the south and west were just lighting up as the sun crested the mountains. Robins and geese greeted the day.
Down here in the valley and over along Pocaterra Creek there wasn’t much snow but as I rolled on, it didn’t take long to find it.
I expected there would be some snow up here - it’s May, true, but really, it’s only May - but nowhere near this much. In fact, beyond the road being bare, the valley along Smith-Dorrien Creek and over the summit to Smuts Creek looked pretty much the same as it had when I was up here last at the beginning of March.
The snow was still piled waist-high on the roadsides, creeks were running through tunnels underneath it. Smuts Creek ran like a ribbon through its snowy meadow. Smith-Dorrien trickled along between white walls.