As the ice begins to recede and winter sampling wraps up I’ve been reminiscing on my winter weather journey. To paint the picture, I’ve lived in two states my entire life and they both end in Carolina. When I was around eight, we had a “blizzard” that took us out of school for a week and until this year was the most snow I’ve ever seen. When I arrived in Holderness, it looked exactly like that storm did. That is to say, I could still see the ground in many places, but there was a thin blanket of snow and ice coating parts of it. Little did I know just weeks later my old record would be blown out by another 12 inches.
Driving in, I had an ear-splitting grin and honestly might have been a danger with how much my head kept swiveling. But you have to keep in mind: when I left home, it was a balmy 70 degrees. I had been wearing a tank top and light pants, and all of a sudden I was bundled in multiple layers. Now I’m seeing snow weigh down evergreens like I landed in a Hallmark movie.
I’m no stranger to water, but I was definitely a stranger to this kind of water. Never in my life had I seen a body of water frozen solid. In some places back home, there might be a little ice coverage, but enough to walk on? Yeah, right. Sitting through ice safety training, I could feel my heart rate double, but there was no way I was letting these northerners see me sweat about it (I later found out I did not hide it well at all).
When we reached Little Squam West for our training, I tried to be slick. I maneuvered behind a couple of people, dropping back as if to chat, when my real objective was to avoid being the first one on the ice. I trusted that everyone knew what they were doing, but if I fell through the ice on my first day, it would not have been pretty. So really, I did it for everyone’s sake.
With my clumsily strapped-on microspikes, I waddled my way out, wrapping my arms tightly around myself as the wind whipped across my face. I hate to admit it, but for all my research, I failed miserably at properly layering. My toes froze solid, my face went so numb I could barely speak, and a chill seemed permanently set in my bones. I was ready to turn tail and go home.
But the ice was absolutely stunning and that alone was enough to solidify my resolve. With towering mountains and endless blue ice surrounding me, I was at peace mentally while fighting a physical battle against the cold. I’ve always believed that mental fortitude can push me past discomfort, and so my trial-and-error approach to layering began.
For about two weeks, I experimented. I would start each day bright-eyed and end it by thawing my toes, wondering if I had made a huge mistake. But the beauty of Holderness, the excitement of learning new skills, and the bonds I had started forming with my fellow AmeriCorps members kept me grounded, and I’m glad they did!
As part of our service, we spent long days out on the ice, augering through thick layers to collect data and better understand winter water quality conditions. It wasn’t easy work, but it gave me a new appreciation for both the environment and the effort it takes to study and protect it.
Eventually, I figured it out. I acquired a proper puffer, a balaclava, and toe warmers and everything changed. Suddenly, I adored the ice. Instead of focusing on the pain in my toes, I could focus on the novelty of standing on 22 inches of ice, laughing with the other Watershed Resource Assistants as we worked against a backdrop of snow-capped mountains. I could enjoy the challenge: pushing through snow up to my knees while pulling a sled or feeling the burn in my arms as we drilled through the ice. Listening to Shania Twain in the truck afterward, with that deep, satisfying exhaustion that comes from hard work, I found a kind of warmth I hadn’t expected to find so far from North Carolina. I may complain here and there, don’t get me wrong, but I truly do love being challenged, both physically and mentally. As long as I’m warm.
I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunity to serve this community through AmeriCorps and to contribute, even in a small way, to conserving the natural environment that sparked so much joy in me. I don’t know if I’ll end up in the North again, but I know I’ll always carry this place, and what I discovered here with me.