Footprints in the Snow

I wish I could express all of the harboured emotions from the last three days, but only now that I can feel my fingers can I write it all down.
After being pampered by a visit from my mom and brother in Hampton, Tennessee, I set out into the most abysmal weather I have yet seen. A spontaneous cold snap settled over the ridgeline between Wautaga Lake and Damascus, Virginia, blanketing a 50 mile stretch with thick snow. All of Sunday and Monday I walked through dense snowfall, hidden from the sunshine, my tracks hidden by the constant accumulation. I spent the nights shivering, wishing I hadn't sent home my zero-degree sleeping bag.
I came to a clearing in the ridgeline yesterday to look at the horizon, only to be terrified by the sky. I had seen mist before, but truly the sky was nothing but a dense veil of charcoal colored clouds. There was no depth, no shading- just an opaque shroud of snow. I was really scared.
But then I realized that the weather is a thoughtless, feelingless force- neither here to win nor lose. It has no sympathy, pride or malice, and to be scared of it is to be scared of nothing. I hiked with a braver step after thinking about this, occasionally yelling 'suck a duck' from the top of the ridgeline, or other phrases. Walking into Damascus today was like walking into a different season.