“Why are you wearing rain pants?”
I wanted to reply, “Why does it matter?” I simply said rain pants kept my legs warm. The questioner looked about 40 years younger. I have been his age; he has not been mine.
I recently hiked, avec pants, 5 miles upstream from Sand Prairie between the Middle Fork and FS 21. It was maybe upper thirties, partly cloudy, the first half mile exposed with a few inches of snow cover in the campground. Briefly, I wondered if I should have brought snowshoes, but soon the trail had only patchy snow, enough in places to slow me but not a problem.
My feet not surprisingly felt cold, but the rest of me warmed up, although I never did take off my rain jacket. I wasn’t that warm, except for my hands, so I removed my gloves.
I reached FS 21 and decided to hike back on the road. The Sun was close to culmination (due south) and felt good on my back. I hiked a mile then found a sunny spot for lunch. Fifteen minutes later, having had sunlight on my black rain pants, my legs were warm, but when I stood up, I was stiff…and cold. Lunch time has changed for me the past few years. I am definitely colder and stiffer afterwards and again need to warm up.
My entire relationship with cold has changed, sadly in the direction of less tolerance. I canoe tripped into my late fifties wearing shorts. I swam in September in northern Minnesota even later. Those days are gone. After years of starting cold and letting a hike warm me, my body is telling me to put more on. Three days after the Middle Fork hike, I went up Spencer Butte on a clear 20 degree day. I wore 3 layers above the waist, two below; I had gloves, a hat, a balaclava and the jacket hood up. For the first mile I was cold, especially my fingers, then felt more comfortable, actually removing my gloves, the hood, and partially unzipping my windbreaker. After two miles, I wondered whether I should take it off altogether but decided not to.
On the steps, the Sun was out but the wind cold. The gloves came back on, the windbreaker zipped up, the hood back up. On top, I placed the pack so the pad would get some sun and become warmer. I went behind a rock to sit out of the wind, using a glove between my back and the cold rock. No longer moving, I started to get cold and didn’t see any reason to stay up there. I put the pack, which hadn’t warmed, on, felt the awful sensation of cold sweat on my back, and started down.
I never got warm. We burn a third the calories descending 10% grades compared to ascending. My gloves, hat, and hood stayed on the whole time. At the bottom, I drove to get coffee, the car’s heater on full. While warmer, I put my hands around the coffee cup. I was tempted to put my fingers in it.
When I got home, considering myself warm, I had lunch, read for awhile, then finally showered. Only then did I realize I was now finally normal.
See you on the trail. Wear what works for you.
Boreal B[l]og 
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