It was Christmas day yesterday, and we were getting a bit bored. We had already called most of our relatives to wish them a merry Christmas and had even Skyped with my mom and brother as we opened presents they had sent, and it was only 10 a.m. We sat there on the couch and looked at one another. What were we to do with the rest of our day? We needed a distraction. We needed to get out.

And so Geoff and I piled all of our old Colorado winter gear together on the kitchen table and took stock. We had decided to go explore Willamette Pass located an hour and a half east of us in the Cascade mountain range and see what kind of sledding adventures could be had there. Bella seemed to like this idea as she pranced excitedly around at our feet, her prized Christmas Wubba surprisingly sitting dejectedly in a corner.

I took driver’s seat and navigated the Rav slowly out of the dense Willamette valley Christmas fog that surrounded us on all sides. As we made our way out of Eugene and down highway 58, we commented on the light traffic. You could feel that everyone was exactly where they should be at that very moment.

As we began our ascent, winding our way up the mountain, the fog took on a bluish hue for one brief second, and then it was gone and suddenly we could see again. It was as if someone had turned on the lights, and in a way, that’s exactly what had happened. A quick glance at the rear view mirror confirmed that we had simply burst out of the cloud, which I could see now was quickly receding behind us. Looking forward again, I flipped down the sun visor and reached for my sunglasses. I wondered briefly if there could be anyone out there that actually disagrees with the weather-mood theory. That there is a correlation between weather patterns and moods. Cause if there indeed is someone who argues against that theory, I’d love to bring them to that exact line we had just crossed.

Feeling perkier and full of optimism brought on by the sunlight, we continued our trek up the mountain, watching the signs go by outside indicating 1,000 feet, 2,000, 3,000 all the way up to 5,000 feet in altitude and yawning all along the way to keep our ears “popped”. Finally, we reached our destination, and here is what ensued:

I love starting new traditions, and I think Christmas Day Sledding Adventures will become one of ours. Geoff drove us all home that day and after meticulously licking the ice blocks off of her paws, Bella slept soundly in the backseat of the car for the entire ride home and for the rest of the night. Sitting in the passenger seat in the dark as we came back down off of that mountain all I could think about was getting home and curling up in our new blanket Geoff’s grandmother had sent us and having some hot chocolate from our Cocomotion (it heats and stirs to hot chocolately perfection!).

Just then, we slipped back into our cloud.

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