Right off the bat, on the drive to Lyon Mountain from Montreal the freeway entrances were closed past 5am and I got stuck in heavy traffic. Then in the pouring rain, as I was heading out for a winter hike, my driver's side wiper blade flew off into the dark night. I leaned way over to the right and tried to decide whether the problem was with the blade or the arm. Drove a stressful hour to the border in rain with no wiper then decided to risk losing the other one and made the transfer. No further problems.
I met Adam Crofoot in the godforsaken town of Lyon Mountain where we parked, got ready and headed up the transmission tower's service road in the rain. He was skinning in on long fat skis while I snowshoed in the deep slush that threatened to go over the top of my rubber over-boots. The bushwhack from the tower was through wet snow that collapsed into 18'' holes with each and every step, but it was mercifully short. Adam insisted on leading most of the way (I led on the way back ).
It was an uneventful wet return trip and I twice stepped into slush that went over the tops of my over-boots. Then followed a 60 minute drive over back-back roads through desolate towns and the country. The Ausable River had broken up and was a raging torrent of white water and ice chunks.