Читать книгу Shaped by Snow. Defending the Future of Winter онлайн

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Building

“Ready?”

I shouldered my backpack and nodded to my mother.

“Ready.”

If there was ever a mountain goat in my family, it would be my mother. Slight in build, shorter and smaller than me, her size is deceiving when it comes to hiking. As I fumbled to adjust my bag, she propelled herself down the trail.

Our path curved around the right side of the lake before switchbacking up a steep slope. Just before the trail cut upward I glanced left, to the far side of the lake, to see if I could get a final glimpse of my father before we began our climb. But he must have already found a trail into the dense vegetation that lined the shoreline, for he was nowhere in sight.

The sky above us was the shade of blue I always associated with the Wasatch, a brilliant azure framed by rust-colored peaks and emerald pines. But gray clouds threatened its edges. Their foreboding color didn’t just imply rain, but thunder. And hail.

We could sense, rather than hear, the rumbles coming from the other side of the ridgeline, as though the thunder was coming from deep within the earth rather than the sky. The sound wasn’t loud, but its muted timbre made it seem even more ominous.