"And Scully got a snowmobile ride!"

Whoops.
That's my buddy Jason, putting on his snowshoes next to my truck. The truck that's high-centered in the snow, there (and is six feet from that cliff).
Who says life is boring?
Not at Surface Tension, where it's always a vortex of a life blender, and we're on frappe'.
So, what do you do when it's 8:30 a.m. on a Sunday, the road is a frozen bitch and your buddy is on a time line (and you're within miles of Stewart Mineral Springs? ) Well, you strap on the snowshoes, and you head for the hills.
The original plan was to drive (HA) to the Pacific Crest Trail trailhead for Deadfall Lakes and Mt. Eddy, then follow the PCT to the Deadfall Lakes Basin (Mt. Eddy is seven miles from the trailhead and a was a bit far for a day's snowshoe).
OK, so the snow was a bit deeper than expected.
We ended up hiking along U.S. Forest Service Road 17, an uphill climb toward the summit - and our original destination.
The girls, Trinity and Scully, were totally digging the day, and 11-year-old Scully acted like a pup, running and sticking her head into snow drifts.
Jason and I decided to set a 10:30 a.m. turn-around time, so he could get on the road and celebrate his brother's 21st birthday with the folks (let's just say here that big bro Jason took his little bro out for a drink or five at midnight and was feeling the four hours of sleep he did get).
Jason managed to pee on his water bottle. Twice (and this is why I carry a 100-liter Hydrapak).
First, he dropped it into the stream; the next time, he dropped it in the yellow slushie.
"Fuck, dude," he said. "Oh, man. I'll just rub some snow on it, that'll sterilize it."
Riiiiigghhhtt.
We ended up getting a look at where we wanted to go - and it was time to get the truck unstuck. I admit, I chanted a couple of prayers.
That's when the five snowmobilers showed up.
"That your rig stuck down there?" the lead rider asked.
(Stupid grin) "Yep."
"Want us to push you out?"
(Stupid grin) "Yep!"
"Hop on, we'll give you a ride down," he said. "We'll go slow enough for the dogs to follow."
Uhhhh, right. Scully, on losing sight of me, will lay down and wait anyone out. Which is exactly what she did.
The guys ended up getting their truck (while we waited for the dogs to show up) and pulled the 4Runner out. Jason went to turn the truck around, and I hopped aboard a snowmachine for a ride to fetch the girls (I'd just snowshoe back, so the guys could get on with their 100-mile ride).
That's when Ron, the oldest of the bunch, came roaring around the corner, Trin at his heels - and Scully riding on the seat behind the windshield like the Queen of Sheeba.
"She was a little nervous at first," Ron said. "But I think she liked it."
I tried to pay for some gas for the guys, but all they said was, "Help someone else out."
Isn't that the way life is supposed to work?
So, humbled and worked out, we headed down to Stewart for a soak. That's when we saw this amazing shot of Mt. Shasta:
Then it was on to Stewart.
Like trying to start/finish all of our group backpacking trips near the community of Etna - and the Etna Brewery - there's a certain logic in planning a snowshoe trek near Stewart. And when I say near, I mean, oh, 40 miles or so. There's nothing like a soak in an old clawfoot tub, then sitting and letting your mind wander in the huge, wood-fired sauna and then a plunge into icy Parks Creek.
Whaaaa?
Yep. the soak cycle is thus: Soak for 10 minutes, sit in the sauna until you can't take it anymore, then go immerse yourself in the creek (which was 37 degrees on Sunday).
And you do this last part nekked.
"You going to do it?" Jason asked.
"I'll do it if you do it," I said.
"I'm going to do it."
So we did it.
Jason is still searching for his testicles.