Here we are, into the second day of spring 2009, looking out onto winter. Am I forgetful or melodramatic in thinking this has been one of the worst winters in a long time? The temperature has finally gotten to hover somewhere around not death inducing within minutes and water appears to be forming in large bodies on the streets, yet it is still such an ordeal to get around. I walked home last night from work. I was needed to stay until 1930 to assist with the electronic charting implementation and several new users and by the time I got out there was little sign of busses going directly to my house. So I caught one going east and then walked. Within a block off Whyte I was in survival mode. First was the ice. Those people who have cleared their walks down to the concrete have created a smooth clean sheet of ice to break your hip on. Next comes the edges where the cleared sidewalk meets the uncleared – a dangerous landing of uneven craters of ice and snow full of potholes traps to bring you down. At the end of that come the mountains of snow and ice forming traitorous paths up and over the peaks with no sherrpas or guides. You need a guide because waiting at the downward slope of icy decent is the dark lake of hypothermia. One slip here and you will lay half submerged in a cold pool unable to right yourself. A detour around the lake requires a path down teh centre of the roadway which is clear and a stable walking surface offering the ability to stride along like a normal human until a vehicle comes along claiming its domain. Another mountain to climb, a glacier to cross, and pools of unknown depth to clear. The desire to be outside and active is strong, but the possibility of this occuring without injury is slim. Why do I live here? I arrive home, exhausted more from the journey home than from the 13 hour shift.