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

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“Do you think this is a safe spot?” my mother asked over the sounds of the storm.

“I don’t know,” I responded. “Do you?”

The rocks we stood by were not so much a cliff band as they were large, straight boulders, freestanding in the shoulder of the mountain. There were a few pines around us, probably six or seven, and they weren’t providing much protection from the hail. We were surrounded by the tallest things in the vicinity.

Discussing our options, we decided that the grove was still safer than retreating back down the exposed path we had just hiked up, or continuing on the trail across the face of a mountain. I attempted to remember everything I had ever heard about lightning, though I knew much of it was myth. Getting rid of our hiking poles seemed like it wouldn’t hurt, so we tossed them into some bushes thirty feet away, then hunkered down beneath the trees again, keeping our feet close together.

I once asked my father if he was scared of anything. He always seemed so fearless, jumping off of cliffs on skis, rock climbing, windsurfing chopped-up ocean waves.