After two days in Williams I checked out of the Super 8 and headed east on I-40, as there was no more Route 66 to follow for now.
The interstate climbed up further into the mountains, over the Arizona divide, and by the time I got into Flagstaff and checked into the Days Inn (on Route 66 again), I found myself surrounded by snow as if I were back in Colorado.
That night we got even more. When I woke up and opened the curtains, I was greeted by pure whiteness in the motel courtyard, with more flakes coming down. The tarp over the swimming sagged from the weight of the snow on it.
I once hated winter, but I was quite happy to see all the snow. Even though California had been chillier than I expected, I hadn't gotten any "real winter" for over a year except for detours up into the mountains for snowshoeing, and I was beginning to miss it a bit.
The nice, warm feeling lasted until I saw came downstairs outside and saw my car heaped with six inches of snow. I realized my scraper was buried deep in the trunk below my gear. The last thing I wanted to do was fish it out.
Fortunately I had no reason to use the car that day. A Starbucks, as well as many restaurants, were within walking distance, and it gave me a chance to wear the cold-weather boots I had recently picked up in REI in Reno. Having the right outfit and gear is definitely a huge prerequisite for my enjoying winter. I still hate being cold.
And being able to cope with sudden changes of plans, and to seamlessly adapt to new circumstances and carry on without missing a beat---any time I get a chance to do that makes me feel like I'm living in the real groove of life.
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