Three Sisters Hut to Hut, Day 2: The Great Snow-nado

Awakened by small bits of snow falling on my face, it took a few moments for me to realize where I was. I rolled over to look at my watch before stirring further to avoid waking up everyone else in the hut. Judging by the amount of light pouring in the window, I knew it had been a good sleep but it was probably late morning. Matt got up and helped me rebuild the fire and start the coffee. He dug around in the food cabinet for breakfast while I poured the grounds into a French press.

I was excited for a new day, yet still feeling the effects of the previous one. Day two is always a mixed bag like that. It was clear by the way our travel companions moaned and groaned as they got out of bed that they felt the same way. Over breakfast, the five of us pored over the maps.

Last night, I had mentioned that it was possible to take a snowmobile trail the whole way. Yesterday, that meant a packed trail but probably not today. Judging by how high the snow came up on my down booties when I went to the outhouse, I estimated that we had received close to eight more inches of snow overnight. They weren't as excited to hear about the new snow as Matt and I were.

Since our instructions specifically said to stay off the snowmobile trails and violation could jeopardize permits for this outfitter in the future, Matt and I planned to stick to the marked route but would make our final decision once we were out there. By taking the shorter route, maybe the snowshoe hikers would make it there before us and have a hot dinner ready for us when we arrived.

The firewood was kept beneath the hut. Matt shoveled out the path while I made breakfast. It was refilling by the time we left.

After a large stack of pancakes, two eggs, and as much coffee as I could stuff inside myself, Matt and I were fueled up and ready to go. As we took off on the next day's journey, we were happy to have some time to ourselves again.

Our day began on a shared corridor with the snowmobile route. All the tracks that existed the day before were undetectable. We weren't sure whether it was still snowing or the wind was just blowing the snow around. To be honest, it was pretty miserable. I debated turning around. Once our trail parted ways and took off straight up a hillside, we made our final decision: follow the original route and those darn yellow flags.

For the next two hours, we trudged through the snow. We flailed around comically the entire two hours. Instead of becoming frustrated as I had the previous day, I tried a new approach. Whenever anything was hard, I'd find the humor in it. It began like this: "Can you believe we paid money for all this fun?" and grew from there. When we could hear one another through the flapping of our jacket hoods, we made jokes about how much fun it was. After awhile, I began to believe it. Sort of.

"Don't you wish it was thirty below right now?"

"Hey look, a Snow-nado!! Are there flying cows in it? Snowmen?"

What the tongue of your boot looks like when the snow is fresh and sticky and you've forgotten your gaiters.

We stopped for lunch under the shelter of a tree. When I was a kid, I used to make winter forts in spots like this. Fluffy green pine branches hung down to the ground, weighed heavily with snow. Snuggled up next to the trunk, it formed something of a tent shelter. Even though we grew up in the same state, it's moments like this that set our childhood memories apart. The U.P. winters I remember bear no resemblance to Matt's childhood in far southern Michigan. Judging by the ice buildup inside our water bottle and the way the wind felt on our backs, we assumed the wind chill to be somewhere just below zero degrees. All I can remember about lunch that day was that I was happy my PB&J hadn't frozen.

Sometime about mid-afternoon, the wind stopped and the sun came out. I think the sun lasted only fifteen minutes, then another shower blew in. I spent most of this day's travel being thankful that the organizers did their homework and sent us from south to north because the wind was almost always at our backs.

Just as we were settling into a groove on a straight stretch, we heard a noise. A motor. We'd heard this sound on and off most of the day, but this time it grew louder and closer. Just then, a snowmobile pulled up. Once again, it was one of the outfitters, checking on those poor coastal Californians. "We came here to find winter," Matt said from beneath his hood, frosty beard, and ice encrusted hat, "I think we found it." The man laughed and then turned to me. I smiled too. I added, "Yeah, we're fine. We aren't moving very fast but this is exactly what we signed up for!"

We told him that the other group had planned to go up the other way in case he was going to check on them too. Then he said shortly after we left, the group called him with an SOS for a ride. Nobody was hurt, but they were too tired to continue and at noon were still at the first hut. He said his business partner was going to pick them up while he came to check on us. He wasn't sure but he said that we might have the second hut to ourselves for the night. Yay!  As he drove away, he asked us one last time if we needed anything. Both of us shook our heads. Then he said, "Thanks for being awesome!" and drove away.

No, Thank YOU! This track was amazing!

Since he backtracked along the route from the second hut we found ourselves, for the first time on the trip, following packed snow. Fresh snowmobile trail. It was amazing. I finally got to experience my new skis! The metal edges gave me more control and the waxless fish scales gave me the climbing power I needed. A+ new skis! The last two miles to the hut were the fastest of our trip so far. We arrived just before dusk and made quick work of surveying the supplies.

Sometimes it's nice to rewarm ourselves from the inside with beer fuzzies.

Food supply, Hut 2.

Hut number two was equipped with supplies for pasta. We wasted no time digging into dinner. Day number two required two dinners. Both were divine. The only thing missing from the huts was chocolate.

While making dinner, we found a note left by the snowshoe hikers. We would indeed have the hut to ourselves. We spread out our gear without consideration for anyone else and it was glorious. Without feeling the need to be social, we tucked into bed early and I finally got to open and read some of my book before dozing off.