The next morning we woke up to rain. We got out of the tent, looked up, and just above us was snow. Uh oh, this doesn't look so good. We waited for awhile but it never let up, and since we were supposed to go up to 15,000 feet our guide decided the pass we would cross would be snowed out. Since we weren't prepared for that kind of weather, and I had NO interest in roughing it that much on my vacation, we decided to go another way. This meant we went straight down back the way we came. I was feeling pretty much like crap with my cold, sneezing my head off and hadn't been eating very much for the past couple of days. It's funny how that effects one's perspective. Yesterday when I was feeling only kind of crummy things and towns were interesting and quaint. Today I was grumbling (in my head), "crappy old towns, already passed them once dammit, why did we have to hike all that way just to turn around and go back..." You get the gist. Then there was Grant, always perky, happy, and solicitously checking on me, "you okay hon?" In my grumpy sick state I wanted to wring his neck, but I reminded myself it was just the cold getting me down and soon I would feel better.
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