Stories Without a Point – It’s Cold
In honor of the twenty degree weather expected to start tax day (I’m writing this on the 14th) I thought I would relay a story of being cold. I can honestly say I have been quite cold many times in my life. When I was younger, I had a paper route and I trudged through snow, rain, and the blistering sun to deliver papers. (Just a side note, I do not recommend trying to ride your bike through a foot of snow, it is a lot more work than walking, trust me.)
One thing carrying newspapers taught me was that at a certain point, you can ignore the cold and embrace it. It is pretty much a mental exercise, but when lugging papers through the biting wind, I could convince myself that while I was really cold, it didn’t matter and I would just “embrace” the cold and somehow I felt a little less miserable and less cold. That little trick helped get me through a couple of winters, but not through my two coldest days.
Those days of carrying the newspaper through the snow until after the sun was below the horizon were not the coldest moments in my life. The second coldest I ever found myself was when I tried to walk home from a basketball game in a pair of sweatpants in the winter. Those baggy cotton pants offer almost no protection from the wind. And standing behind a telephone pole (even when you were a skinny kid) doesn’t help that much. I managed to make it the two miles home, but regretted the decision the whole way.
The coldest I ever found myself was when I was out playing with a friend and exploring the woods near his house. I was only somewhat familiar with these wood, as they were not my normal haunts. My prior experiences with these woods was mostly with another friend. He would take us along the stream that cut a winding path through the trees and convince those of us with him to jump off the ten foot high cliffs that the stream had worn into the landscape. By convince, it was either you jumped on your own or he’d throw you off. I was never thrown.
Well, this cold day of exploration (without the jump inducing friend) took us on a wild trek. We dodged villains who were chasing us through the trees, now all devoid of their leaves. We pursued tracks through valleys and over hills (mostly our own). There was snow on everything, though the dense trees had offered some protection and only a few inches covered the soft ground. The stream, normally not more than a couple of feet deep in the bends that ran under the loose dirt cliffs, was frozen with a foot of ice.
The wind had cleared most of the stream of the snow, leaving a clear window into the gravely bed below the solid water. Our boots made decent, though not very effective, skates on the slick surface. We had run around for an uncounted amount of time, safe from the prying eyes of anyone nearby. For these woods were many, many acres in size and you could walk a couple of miles in some directions before coming across a road.
One of the beauties of these woods was a place dubbed “Angle Falls”. It was less than twenty feet across and only a couple of feet high, though the pool of water directly below
the falls was a couple of feet deep. The edges of the pool was a nice loose sand that if you were not careful, your boots would sink deep into the shifting ground, usually leaving the footwear behind when you pulled your foot out. That is, when the ground was not frozen solid.
This day the falls were frozen over and while we could see a trickle of water running under parts of the ice, the surface was solid. However, the falls offered some protection from the wind and snow had piled up in places. It was in this snow-covered area where I learned a valuable lesson when it came to snow, ice, and moving water. As well as one about remembering where the sandy edge of the pool actually ended.
For those who are interested, the snow acts as an insulator and keeps the ice from freezing as solidly as it otherwise might. Throw in moving water, and suddenly gravity does the rest. My right foot broke through the ice and took a plunge into the frigid water.
It was like lightning running through my leg. I yanked my foot out and found the nearest place to sit. My rubber boot, which had done a great job of keeping the snow out, was full of water. The boot and the wool liner came off my foot in a flash and my dripping sock stretched as I tugged it from my foot. It hurt..a lot. I managed to rub some life back into my toes, but the cold air wasn’t helping.
After my friend rung out my sock and drained my boot, I had no choice but to put them back on. The ground was covered in snow and we were at least a mile or more from his house. I hobbled along, trying to move fast, but my foot ached with every step. I had to stop and take my boot off a couple more times to try to give some warm to my toes. I just kept seeing his toasty living room everywhere I looked, superimposed over the bleakness of the barren woods.
I am not really sure how I made it back to his house. I remember every step was agony, but somehow we made it. I got my foot warm (which warming it up after being that cold hurt as well). No serious damage, just life being kind and a teaching a lesson. I was lucky.
After that, I would like to say I learned to say away from cold water, but I’ve been in Lake Superior in May, so not sure if I have or not (it was a very warm May and I was not in the Lake for long). I can say, it makes me appreciate what my characters would go through in the frozen mountains (and makes me envy the ones that can warm themselves with magic).
