Cold!
I just finished feeding the dogs. I was washing some dishes when the dogs finished their sumptuous repast and I took a small break to let them outside. As I peeled my wet fingers off the metal door handle, I was reminded of a breezy morning coming down the western side of Roger's Pass in the summer of 1977. I would have been fifteen and on my third consecutive summer crossing the Canadian Rocky Mountains on my bicycle, this time with my dad and my older sister. If you are familiar with the Trans-Canada highway between Revelstoke and Golden, BC, you know riding to the summit of Rogers Pass makes for a pretty long day. Revelstoke sits at the comfortable elevation of 480 meters (1575 ft) and over the course of about 43 miles, you climb to about 1382 m (4,534 feet) so you are doing a fair amount of climbing. (See video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SsuJ53HJAqs) Picture this in the summer on a bicycle and you pretty much have what we did.
We left the hotel at Glacier very early the following day; early morning in late summer. At that elevation and at that early hour, the air is pretty crisp. From the summit, you drop down to the level of the Kicking Horse river into Golden over approximately the same distance you did the previous day. We loaded up our bikes and began the descent. Once you start down the western side of the pass, you don't turn a pedal for about five miles. Coasting down the hill like a stooping falcon, I remember well the icy air ripping right through me. I was wearing all the warm clothing I had brought with me but I was still chilled to the bone. As I was nose diving to river level, my dad coasted up beside me. He was in his rain suit with a hooded sweatshirt underneath and the hood was pulled up and tied so only his face was exposed and he had thick, clean socks on his hands. His eyes bugged out of his rosy face as he pulled up along side me. He spoke over the over the buzzing ratchets of our freewheels; "It is as cold as a mother-in-law's kiss!" he said rather briskly. Those words reverberate in my ears every time I step out into the cold air whenever the temperature goes below freezing. I will apologize to all the kind-hearted and affectionate mothers-in-law for this simile but whenever the temperature drops, that's where my mind goes; before a nice cup of hot cocoa.
We left the hotel at Glacier very early the following day; early morning in late summer. At that elevation and at that early hour, the air is pretty crisp. From the summit, you drop down to the level of the Kicking Horse river into Golden over approximately the same distance you did the previous day. We loaded up our bikes and began the descent. Once you start down the western side of the pass, you don't turn a pedal for about five miles. Coasting down the hill like a stooping falcon, I remember well the icy air ripping right through me. I was wearing all the warm clothing I had brought with me but I was still chilled to the bone. As I was nose diving to river level, my dad coasted up beside me. He was in his rain suit with a hooded sweatshirt underneath and the hood was pulled up and tied so only his face was exposed and he had thick, clean socks on his hands. His eyes bugged out of his rosy face as he pulled up along side me. He spoke over the over the buzzing ratchets of our freewheels; "It is as cold as a mother-in-law's kiss!" he said rather briskly. Those words reverberate in my ears every time I step out into the cold air whenever the temperature goes below freezing. I will apologize to all the kind-hearted and affectionate mothers-in-law for this simile but whenever the temperature drops, that's where my mind goes; before a nice cup of hot cocoa.