I grew up in a mountain forest building snow forts and eight-foot-tall snowmen. When I was a kid, well no, we didn’t walk to school six miles uphill both ways but we often trudge through two feet of snow in hand-me-down snow pants to get to the local bus stop. Snow play in Big Bear …
It was hot as hell in August of 1999 as I sat in my ancient pickup truck with the summer southern California sun beating down on me. I had sweat pouring down my back as I sat in my filthy 1985 pickup truck and I prayed, once again my Dodge truck would get me home …
“This is going to be the greatest snowstorm Big Bear Lake has seen in a century!” These are the words I have been hearing shouted from the snowy rooftops all over our ski resort town for the last week. I personally wrote them the way Donald Trump would proclaim a big ass snow storm rolling …
It was nine a.m. and I was struggling through four feet of wet snow, snowshoeing almost straight up a white mountain. It might have been forty degrees outside but I was sweating big time in my favorite North Face winter jacket, as I sucked in the arctic cold air and I perspired under my day pack. …
Even before I moved to Big Bear Lake California eight years ago I would call myself a mountain woman. As a tried and true mountain woman, I spend my day’s trekking just as many miles of mountain trails as I possibly can. While out on the trails I’m constantly on the lookout for wild edible …