Rain and Snow

Google searches don't normally get me excited, but this one sure does. As I peruse each page, I become more giddy. I have an adventure buddy willing to go anywhere. Anywhere you say? Hmmmm.... I scan traffic webcams, weather forecasts, and elevation charts. Then I pack the car with all my warm things and head inland.

I heart Cal Trans webcams!

Wintertime on the coast means rain. Lots and lots of rain. It takes an especially cold pattern to get snow here and happens only once every ten years or so. Inland is a different story. The coastal mountains rise up tall and swiftly just ten miles inland. The forecast says anything above two thousand feet would be snow. Anything below will be rain. A lot of each.

The day before: Rain and hail on the coast. We are not pleased.

The key is finding not only that special snow globe location but one that is plowed regularly enough that I don't get stuck out there. In an area with a shortage of snow plows for big events, it's common for locals to wait until it melts rather than wait for a plow.

A mountaintop several miles off the main highway is where all the locals go for snow. They build snowmen, forts, and sled til that icy chill sets in. It's not great to run because there's nothing at the top but a parking lot. I don't think we'd get that far up the curvy mountain road, not with the eight inches predicted to fall while we were out, but assume a run on the road will be worth the drive. We have the place to ourselves as we pull onto a wide parking area already buried six inches in the snow. Ruby Sue the Subaru has never gone through snow like that before and handles it like a champ. Good Girl. Now wait for us here, please!

When it's 40 degrees on the coast, it feels so cold. Out here, thirty feels about the same. As Lanore and I pull on our layers, mittens and hats, I realize something: the only difference is how I dress. I'm never dress warm enough on the coast because the grass is green. Green Grass=warm. There's no way it's going to be cold. But in the snow, a different part of my brain lights up: Snow=cold. Of course you want mittens. I know to point the car downhill toward the road in case I get snowed up and need gravity's help; there's a shovel in the back. This is the kind of winter I know how to do! :) Today, I'm finally back where winter makes sense!

By coincidence, both of us wore Boston Marathon jackets too.

Lanore and I set out at a slow jog, which becomes a walk, and finally turns into a lot of gawking at the snow. It's snowing hard and we're on the protected side of the mountain so it all collects on every branch and blade of grass. It's amazing. No rushing today.

She stops and asks, "did you hear that?" My ears perk up, searching for a sound. There have been several loose dogs nearby so I'm cautious to listen for one, but nothing is there. "That sound the snow makes when I run on it, it's so cool!" she finally says. I'm not sure Lanore has ever run on this much snow. How fun.

We test the snow depth as we climb higher up the road. We pass several groups of people out sledding on the hillsides. Since we've chosen to run up the road, a few people stop to ask if we need help, assuming the only reason we're outside of a car is because ours is stranded somewhere. The snow is now almost six inches deep and punchy in spots. It's fun to find a route through the web of tire tracks.

After an hour of steady elevation gain, we decide to turn around. Now headed downhill to the car, I can see partway down the valley. Beneath a thin layer of cloud, everything is white. Rare for this area to have such widespread snow, I try to pick out a lower elevation spot where it's still green. There isn't one.

About knee deep at 4,100 ft.

We're pulled from our happy place when Lanore loses traction and slips. She lands on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs. Ouch. We walk a few steps past a group of sledders. As we pass, one mentions that it was quite a fall. Of course they all saw that. Slightly embarrassed, we trot away slowly.

Once we're back to the car, I fire up the stove. I brought hot cocoa and coffee to brew up before we head home. Lanore surprises me with some homemade vegetable beef soup.

Wintertime edition of: "My Life is a Subaru Ad."

Oh yeah.

We heat everything up as we throw on a dry layer. We dine like princesses. It is divine. Then we make a few snow angels before we jump back in the car to head home.

The best part about this sort of adventure is that I can leave the snow behind. I go home to my ice-free sidewalk, clear driveway, and safe pavement. I might get hosed by the rain on a regular basis, but my running routes don't have to match the plow routes or avoid icy sidewalks. If it weren't for my terrible seasonal year-round allergies, I'd say that the microclimates and "choose your own adventure" opportunities available here offer the best of everything.

Home: Green again, with a little bit of small hail on the patio.