While I would like to say that snowmobiling was the best time and so much fun, I have to be real and say it was really, really challenging.  I had this idea in my head that we would be passengers and that a skilled, experienced driver would be showing us the awesome sights.  Sayer and I get there and I find out that it will be ME that is driving.  Mind you, I have seen snow maybe 3 times in my life and have never driven a snowmobile.  This idea sounds really scary to me. 

I don't want to chicken out and Sayer is super excited to go so I dig deep and sign us up.  We pick out our gear and get on a bus headed to wards to top of the mountains.  It has been snowing like crazy but there was a break and the sky was blue so I felt pretty good about it. 

When we get to the mountain top the sky is no longer blue and it is snowing again.  We are lined up next to the snowmobiles while the guide gives us a (literally) 5 minute lesson on how to operate them.  They look big, heavy and unweildy.  My anxiety level is so high at this point that I am starting to scan for the bus and decide which instructor I am going to tell that I'm not doing it.  Meanwhile Sayer is getting more excited and picking out which snowmobile we're going to ride.  Again, I dig deep and go ahead and start picking one out.

We get on and I go to put on my helmet.  I have never worn an all over type of helmet like this.  It goes all around your jaw and face, hugs your cheeks and has a visor and not very much of a peripheral field of vision.  Why is this relevant?  I am really claustrophobic.  I had no idea that a helmet would freak me out and it may have been worse because I was already so anxious.  I try breathing, I make mental conversation, "It's ok, it's ok, you'll be fine, just get going and you'll be fine".  Take it off, breathe and put it back on (a couple of times).

The guide comes over and I confess to him that I'm wigging out.  He was really nice and reassured me that it was okay.  I felt a little better (minutely) but now I also feel embarrassed.  I feel like a wimp, a scaredy cat, a weenie.  Those were the exact words in my head.  I just kept thinking, if I could just call Steven or Brene and get some support I'd be ok.  Brene would tell me that I am having a shame moment and that my feelings were real and I wasn't "a weenie".  Steven would have offered to come get me and would have told me that he loved me.  All of which sounded really good at the moment.

It's showtime, the snowmobiles are revving up and it's time to go.  I bite down and push in the throttle.  The guide is right in front of me as we head off.  To my immediate right is a snowy drop- not sure how far but the end could not be seen from my vantage point.  I go slow and try and keep behind the guide.  It goes this way for a while.  The claustrophobia subsides simply because I am so concentrated on keeping us upright, behind the guide and NOT flying off into the snowy abyss alongside us. 

This would not have been so hard if it had not been snowing so hard that it was what they call "white out conditions".  My helmet visor kept fogging up.  It was hard to discern where the trail was and where the edges of the trail were.  At one point I went off the trail and sort of crashed into a snow drift.  It was humiliating.  I felt like everyone was thinking, "she's so slow" and "can you believe she crashed?" .

I know this story sounds awful and you're probably wondering why you're still reading it.  It does get better, I promise.

As we head on, Sayer starts to get bored and actually falls asleep against me.  I have no idea how he could do that.  It was such  an disconnected moment.  Here I was terrified and white knuckled at the helm and he was ready for a snooze.  It made me laugh and laughter is always good in a stressfull situation.

The snow came and went and when the visibility got better so did the driving.  At one point, we starting to go through the forest, which was amazing!  I mean amazing in a "Planet Earth", Discovery HD TV, God's country kind of way.  It was breathtaking.  The trees stretched up so high and the snow was epic.  It will stand out in my mind as one of the most beautiful places that I have ever seen.  It felt like a secret, a privilege, something so special that only a few people have witnessed it.  In reality I am sure many, many people see and have seen it but in that moment it felt like just me and Sayer alone in some magical place.  Sayer even woke up for it and let out a few "weeees!" as we went up and down hills and in between huge trees.

Finally it was time to head back.  My hands were hurting from the cold and my nerves were shot.  I had become a lot more comfortable but I was ready to be done and so was Sayer.  3 hours on that machine was all that I needed.

We got back to the bus all in one piece.  Our guide managed a picture of us with my iphone.  This is how Sayer rode the whole way- in front of me leaning back in to my chest.  AT one point the driver had asked, "would you feel more comfortable if he rode with me?" and my answer was an emphatic "No".  It was really conforting to have him there actually.