The Blizzard of Aught-Five, Part II

photo by Captain Clark
(This is the second of a two-part series, the first part of which appears below. But you can read this one first if you're one of those radical convention-breaking types. I really don't care. Time is relative anyway, right?)

I am returned. The expedition, if I may be so bold as to call it such, was successful. Rather than waiting to compile the findings in a comprehensive report, I present for your consideration the unedited notes which were taken during the trek:

This is indeed a blizzard. What looked so beautiful from behind double-paned glass now has become something sinister and imposing. Very few sidewalks seem to have been shoveled at all, and the going is difficult just to get to the corner. Myself and the bi-pedal mammal accompanying me are going to try to get to the store, hoping it will yet be open.

The pizza place (a.k.a., Captain Clark's personal chef) is open for business. Outside three delivery boys confer, huddled together in strategic conference with a seriousness and dedication that inspires. They disappear into the pizza place to collect their precious cargo. The first comes out and turns, striding purposefully, leaning into the blizzard, heading east. The second emerges, moving quickly to a double parked car. The tires have chains yet as he starts to move the wheels spin threateningly before gaining purchase on the snow. The third pizza delivery boy, after watching the uneasy departure of his comrade, heads down the block, westward. The blizzard at his back propels him lurchingly...

We arrive at the store where my pakistani friends greet us with smiles and good-natured laughs at our snow-covered visages. We purchase the basic supplies, as well as a couple of loafs of day-old bread.

I have taken my companion back to the apartment and secured her safely within before embarking on this, perhaps the most perilous part of the expedition. I set off across the broad white avenue with the intent of circumnavigating the Marina.

Harsher conditions still. The wind howls off the water, visibility is negligible. Progress is very slow. I can only look up to catch my bearings occaisionally, and each time I am distressed to see how little progress is being made.

I am on the other side of the Marina now, too far along to turn back, I must make the footbridge. I can dimly see the lights strung across the marina. They seem to be miles away. Onward....

Two cars on the parallel boulevard doing doughnuts in the snow around and around and around, white powder thrown in high and wide clouds from beneath the wheels.

On the footbridge. The ice has yet to form around the wooden pilings, and so the regular residents of the marina are there gathered. The swans notice me first, and swim to my location, floating directly below the railing, looking up expectantly. The ducks form a rough semi-circle around them, at a safe but hopeful distance (Brooklyn swans are tougher than most, as one might expect). The loaves of day-old bread I have brought seem to make an ample meal for all. However, as I am standing in the center of a footbridge over a goodly sized body of water during a blizzard, I am freezing my ass off. The end of the bread is unceremoniously tossed back amongst the ducks, causing a near riot of waterfowl.

Almost home, I find myself bathed in sweat now from the exertion of this trek. Closing my eyes against the stinging airborne ice, I see floating before my tired eyes a fresh pot of hot tea, and a cutting board with Soda Bread, butter, and strawberry preserves.

photo by Captain Clark

The notes end here, likely because stopping and writing was very low on the priority list for the remainder of the journey.

As a side note, I would like to point out that this expedition was also the first real field test for my new hiking boots. I am happy to report that they performed perfectly. My feet remained dry, warm, and without pain despite the severe conditions under which the boots were tested. Huzzah!