COLUMN: Logan spring brings more snow than sunshine

    With the buzz of an alarm, my eyes slowly open and I stare up at the ceiling. It’s still dark. I slowly exhale. The wisps of my breath travel up to my ice coated window. It’s still cold. These two facts come as no surprise to me. Of course it’s dark and of course it’s cold; I am in Logan and it’s not yet April. It’s been cold and dark for months.

    The winter didn’t start out too badly. The first snowfall left visions of winter sports dancing in front of my eyes. The initial few weeks of frozen ground and cold weather found me in the infatuation phase, loving every minute. Then, as the days wore on into weeks, the weeks into months, it lost its charm. The days became darker and the cold became colder, and my heart and spirits seemed to follow suit.

    Day by day, the pressure increased. Tales of stir-crazy frontiersmen getting cabin fever during the winter seemed to be particularly fitting. I wondered how long before I would break and go on a rampage.

    I was sustained by events, which gave me a glimmer of hope. The occasional warm day buoyed me up just enough to maintain my sanity, but there was still a force building inside of me. The press and the urge to be outside, it grew stronger by the day.

    I am awake. It’s dark, and it’s cold, but I don’t care. I can’t stay inside any longer. I mill around for a couple of hours, waiting for the sun to come up behind the clouded, smoggy veil which has hovered over Logan, and for the temperature to increase to within 10 degrees of freezing. Then I grab a slightly hesitant roommate, my climbing gear, and head for the door.

    I point the car up the canyon, doing my best to ignore the drifts of snow. I don’t care; I am going outside to go climbing. I am slipping between the fingers of the hand with which Old Man Winter was maintaining a death grip on Logan, if only in my mind.

    We arrive at the wall, and unload the climbing gear. My shoes fill with snow as I walk to the base of the climb. I set out the tarp on the top of the snow and watch as water already begins to seep through as I am flaking the rope out onto it.

    As I put on my rock climbing shoes, I place my hand against the wall. The cold rock pulls the heat from my hand from the moment I touch it. Pulling my hand back, I look up at the climb. It is going to be a cold one.

    My shoes and harness on, with cold fingers I fumble through the knot. My roommate puts on a pair of gloves and hooks himself in for a belay. A stiff breeze blows down from the canyon. I huddle close to the ground and consider just going home. I could just give into winter, to the cold and the dark.

    A defiant flame springs up in my heart. I won’t let winter have a hold over me anymore. I zip my jacket up all the way and start up the route. My fingers begin to ache after the first five feet. A chill seeps in, and as I look down at my belay, I notice that he is framed in snow. My delusions shatter. It is still winter. Try as I might, I can’t will it to be warm; I can’t make it be summer. 

    Finding a good hold, I stop and blow on my fingers and consider resigning myself to defeat on the climb and the rest of a long winter. Just then the sun comes out from behind its cover. Its warm rays bounce off my back. The pressure which has been building inside, the stuff I have been trying to force down by climbing outside, just sort of melt away.

    Looking around, I can swear the trees have a hint of green. With joy I know that something has broken. Spring is here. With new invigoration, I finish the climb. Heading back home, I can see signs of spring all around. I have waited long enough; winter is over.

    The next day, I wake up to six inches of fresh snow. Welcome to spring in Logan.

– dustin.nash@aggiemail.usu.edu