Middle of winter, we finally got a crew together (and a whole pile of dogs) and headed up into the mountains for a short snowshoeing trip—right after it dumped about a foot and a half of snow. The first “welcome” was a steep hill off the road, and then we pushed up the windswept trail into the clouds. It was freezing rain on the way in, so everything crusted over and we were getting frosted up fast. Once we ducked into the trees, it was a lot more manageable, but the conditions were still doing their best to be annoying—my water even froze in the hydropack. We called it around 1.5 miles in and set up a quick hangout spot in the open with a little pop-up fire pit. We processed some wood, got a fire going with a fire steel, boiled water for tea, and cooked up hot dogs while the dogs hovered like professionals. After it got dark, we packed up the crusty, ice-covered gear, burned the fire down, and headed back out—way easier once the trail was broken. Wind on the flats was still ripping, but we made it back to the cars, survived the last steep descent, and wrapped it up with the only real plan that mattered: go home and get warm (sauna time).