The girls of winter (Provided photo — Jack Drury)

Last January, I penned a column on an experience I had at SUNY Cortland with the woman of my dreams (https://tinyurl.com/3wa3cntn). Unfortunately that’s all it was — a dream.

Imagine my surprise when the story got picked up by the SUNY Cortland Alumni Association and was featured in December’s alumni magazine. It even had a QR code linked to my column. As a result, I heard from some of my Cortland friends. It was fun to get a little notoriety from Ole Siwash and my 15 seconds of fame.

In mid-January I was even more surprised to receive an email from a woman named Marge who wrote, “I am a Cortland alum ’68 outdoor recreation major, who enjoyed the article you shared in the alumni news. I am a fan of your humorous style.”

She went on to say she and a group of friends come up to Cortland’s Camp Huntington on Raquette Lake a couple of times a year and that I should go down and meet them. She added there was an alumni snowshoe race I could enter. Enter a snowshoe race? I was more likely to join them afterwards for a beer at the Raquette Lake Tap Room.

I couldn’t wait to share the email with award-winning columnist Mr. Inseide Dope, Bob Seidenstein. I knew he’d be in a jealous rage that I had a groupie wanting to meet me.

A few weeks later, I got another email from my new Cortland fan letting me know she and her friends were coming up on the last Sunday of Winter Carnival to stay a few days at White Pine Camp. She suggested we meet at the Hotel Saranac for drinks. Phyliss and I graciously accepted.

We arrived at the Great Hall Bar and met Marge Cohen and her friends Catherine, Jo, Marge and Marie. Marge and Marie weren’t Cortland grads, but we didn’t hold it against them. They shared some of their adventures and it was obvious they loved spending time outdoors, especially skiing and snowshoeing. We made plans to cross-country ski that Wednesday.

I picked the perfect place to ski — a rarely used snowmobile trail from McColloms to the Slush Pond Road. It’s about five miles through plantation pine, deciduous forests and kettle ponds. I always leave a car at McColloms where we start, and one at Slush Pond Road where we finish. Because of the deep snow, we couldn’t safely park Catherine’s truck on the shoulder, so instead we parked on the opposite side, in front of Mountain Pond Road. I gave the fact that we were blocking the road a thought, but I brushed it off. Why would anyone be down that road at 10 a.m. on a weekday?

It was a blue bird day, and I gave my usual pre-trip speech that we’re out to have fun. “If you’re not having fun, let me know and we’ll do something different.” With that we headed through deep snow down the trail with me leading the way. I started great guns, but with each stroke of my poles I was reminded that I was still recovering from the flu. Two things nagged at me as I skied down the trail: One, how would I hold up? And two, was blocking the Mountain Pond Road with Catherine’s truck going to be a problem?

We skied through gentle terrain, and while breaking trail wasn’t as easy for me as usual, I was doing okay. But okay wasn’t good enough. Was I slowing them down? I’m not sure, but in about a mile one of the ladies offered to break trail and, given my condition, I was grateful for the break. She was a fireball and cruised through the deep snow like a hot knife through butter — much better than I was doing. We skied a little over halfway and took a break for lunch.

Given the challenge of breaking trail, I suggested that it might be more fun if we turned around and skied out the way we came. I didn’t tell them we would miss the good downhills, but I thought it would be more fun skiing on broken trail than breaking trail for another two miles. The women agreed. In hindsight I clearly made the right decision … but not for the reason I thought.

We made good time on the way back to McColloms and we all agreed it was a fine ski on a fine day. But we didn’t know our adventure was just beginning.

We shuttled Catherine to her truck, except for one thing: It wasn’t there. But what WAS there was a state trooper. I immediately guessed what happened, and unfortunately, I was correct.

The trooper walked up to us with a smile on her face.

I immediately confessed, “We blocked the road, huh?”

“Yup” she said.

I tried defending myself. “But the sign says it’s a seasonal road, no maintenance from November until April.”

The trooper didn’t buy it. “Correct, but someone was down there, and you blocked them in.” She continued, “Your truck is at R&L in Vermontville … and there’s a ticket on the front seat for blocking an intersection.”

I felt awful. Awful for the people we had blocked and awful for Catherine. I thought we might keep people from going in, but I never thought we’d keep someone from getting out.

With my tail between my legs, we headed over to R&L Towing. The office manager made it clear that they don’t accept credit cards. Perhaps she was a fan of my column, because she made an exception. In any event, I put the $300 bill on my credit card, and we were on our way. The next day the ladies headed out of town claiming they had a great time.

All in all, it was a fine day with some wonderful people. It was also an excellent, and expensive, learning experience.

At my age, the last thing I need is another expensive learning experience.