Dave mentioned to me last week that he'd like to go snowmobiling sometime. I said, done! So we borrowed Kevin Geis's sled, fueled up Whitehorese, jumped our ponies in the back of Paddy Wagon, and met Dad up at the cabin.
We arrived just as the sun was setting.
By the time we got to the cabin it was dark.
But Dad had her all warmed up.
... with meat in the skillet.
If nothing else it was worth the trip just to have Dad's Greasies.
Bon appetit.
After a good night's sleep and celebrating Mass, Dad was at it at again.
Had to keep it meatless this time.
Then we headed out for Battle Park. The safety shelter on the upper left of the map was our destination. We started out around Deer Haven.
The true mark of a cowboy is not if he gets bucked off or not, it's whether he gets back on again.
Dave handled the Ski-doo pretty well.
It was kind of whiteout conditions so the terrain was tough to judge. Hence me nose diving into this creek bank.
Dave waded into the snowy waters as well.
Arrived.
On to the next one.
A fun time was had by all. Snowmobiling has to be the worst sport in the world. Nothing but work. But what else is there to do in the winter? I wouldn't have it any other way. The mountains call us, and we must go!
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