8" x 10" oil on board
My work buddies and I had been planning a trip to my favorite cabin spot in Highland County for several months. The week before the trip, however, we were hit with with 8 inches of what's being called "snowcrete" and freezing temperatures unlike anything we've seen in quite a while. The owner of the cabin had to hire a skid steer to clear the road so that we could make it up to the house, and I still needed 4wd. Iceskating might have been possible in the yard if we had tried. We did play a few highly entertaining rounds of ice chunk bocci ball. It's so difficult for five adults with kids to find an open date that rescheduling was not an option.
I went up a day early with one friend and the rest came the following day. Of course, I had to get some painting in while I was there, so I braved the ice and went in search of a good scene. The property is mountainous, but I was able to make it up a gradual incline to the top of the ridge by stepping on patches of blown snow to give me some grip and to avoid the ice. I made it to my hidden hollow, which I have painted before and set up. With the help of the bright sun and a few sips of bourbon, I never felt that cold, despite the 20 degree temperature. The paint was so thick and sticky because of the cold that a palette knife was my only option for painting.
After finishing this painting, I sidestepped to the top of the ridge to try another one, which is where things got hairy. At one point, my bottle of painting medium got away from me and slid, along with one of my paint brushes, all the way to the bottom of Hidden Hollow (see photo from the bottom below). I had no choice but to leave my gear and go down after it. I made it down and back up the massive hill relatively unscathed. However, I was tired and getting cold and not enjoying my new painting, so I decided to pack it up and head back to the fire. The hill/mountain on the opposite side of Hidden Hollow is even more steep and massive and looks out over the entire Bullpasture River Valley. I wanted to get a look before I hiked back and this is where the nearly fatal step occurred.
I took off like a sled on an ice luge and swiped for a lone tree branch that broke off and caused me to spin uncontrollably. I tried to get my feet in front of me, but I was ripping through patches of thorns that kept me spinning. If not for a massive patch of thorns that finally stopped me, I might have hit the rocks at the bottom of the hollow and who knows...my jacket was ripped, my body was bruised and covered in scrapes, my painting supplies were crushed and so was my pride. My left wrist still hurts. Most of all, I felt foolish for making such a dumb mistake. And to top things off, my bottle of single barrel Knob Creek was never recovered, despite much searching. I need adventure in my life, but I thought I was done with this type of story. I guess we all slip up from time to time. I promise I'll be more careful.
This is the view from the bottom of the hill where I recovered my painting medium and brush. The other side is steeper!
