2011_1523 Grasslands National Park
After twenty years of hiking and photographing Grasslands, I'm still finding new viewpoints. On a cool morning in November, I followed the ridge line above Laouenan Coulee, looking for Mule Deer, and came upon this vista. Ice fog was drifting through the Frenchman River Valley in the background.
Despite appearances, it wasn't cold - although that is a relative term, so I will clarify: it was neither uncomfortable nor unpleasant. Of course, it wasn't t-shirt & shorts weather, either. For the record, my winter clothing consists of long underwear, a light fleece layer on top, wool sweater over that, winter parka, scarf, wool cap (known in Canada as a "tuque" - rhymes with "kook"), liner gloves, fingerless wool gloves, wool over-mitts, fleece pants, light liner socks, wool socks, winter boots. Ice cleats optional. Voila! Nothing to it. Nice and warm in freezing temperatures or slightly below. But below -25 Celsius, there is no such thing as warm. This, comparatively, was nothing.
A true story: years ago I spent a winter in Whitehorse, Yukon. THAT was cold! I knew a guy who was chopping wood, bare handed, at -50, and accidentally chopped his thumb off. He stuck it back on, wrapped it, and drove himself to the hospital, where they successfully reattached it. I guess the cold kept it from deteriorating en route. This guy was tougher than me. Remembering this, I try not to whine too much when my fingers get cold. Cold fingers are not the end of the world.
Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2020 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
2011_1523 Grasslands National Park
After twenty years of hiking and photographing Grasslands, I'm still finding new viewpoints. On a cool morning in November, I followed the ridge line above Laouenan Coulee, looking for Mule Deer, and came upon this vista. Ice fog was drifting through the Frenchman River Valley in the background.
Despite appearances, it wasn't cold - although that is a relative term, so I will clarify: it was neither uncomfortable nor unpleasant. Of course, it wasn't t-shirt & shorts weather, either. For the record, my winter clothing consists of long underwear, a light fleece layer on top, wool sweater over that, winter parka, scarf, wool cap (known in Canada as a "tuque" - rhymes with "kook"), liner gloves, fingerless wool gloves, wool over-mitts, fleece pants, light liner socks, wool socks, winter boots. Ice cleats optional. Voila! Nothing to it. Nice and warm in freezing temperatures or slightly below. But below -25 Celsius, there is no such thing as warm. This, comparatively, was nothing.
A true story: years ago I spent a winter in Whitehorse, Yukon. THAT was cold! I knew a guy who was chopping wood, bare handed, at -50, and accidentally chopped his thumb off. He stuck it back on, wrapped it, and drove himself to the hospital, where they successfully reattached it. I guess the cold kept it from deteriorating en route. This guy was tougher than me. Remembering this, I try not to whine too much when my fingers get cold. Cold fingers are not the end of the world.
Photographed in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan (Canada). Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©2020 James R. Page - all rights reserved.