As arranged, his driver met him before there was even time to break fast. The transfer went without a hitch, even with the driver consumed in conversation while manoeuvring around gravelly hairpin corners with doomed drops a mere sneeze away. A puttering motor boat was waiting at the prescribed location and Indy jumped aboard without hesitation. For three hours they navigated the narrows with mammoth mountains, vibrant green in colour due to their spring budding trees, shooting straight up on either side of the highlighter blue waters. At the end of the lake both Indy and driver loaded into a clumsy orange vehicle to the nearest town centre. Further still was the departure point for his latest treasure hunt and following a confrontation with a spy wishing to cut himself a large slice of the spoils in exchange for a lift to the map's beginning, he struck a much fairer deal with a friendly native.
When he finally arrived and began asking about his destination all of the locals became grim which Indy found perplexing. When pressed they would say "the path is closed due to snow" but to his Canadian brain those two phrases cancelled each other out as if they had said nothing and he continued to stare at them expectantly. Finally he found a quiet but well-informed man from the area who, with furtive glances around, retrieved a tattered old map and pointed out the way all the while emphasising the potential follies and warning that even he was not comfortable traversing it in these snowy conditions. Indiana thanked the man who continued to express doubt as they parted. With all of this information to digest he supped and studied the vague map with great intrigue, willing more details to appear, before retiring early.
Cracking at dawn he ate heartily to store energy for the trek to come. Over breakfast an elder related that only a local with a dying grandmother on the other side would attempt what he was about to attempt which somehow buoyed his spirits, interpreting that it was possible! With this in mind he set off with a mixture of excitement and dread. Early into his journey he discovered he was without his ever-important hat and sprinted across field and yard to retrieve it and be back on his way. Fortunately a rival treasure hunter passed and happened to be headed in the same direction on a different journey so they struck a truce and Indy received a short lift to the wooden bridge. This evened out the lost time for the hat - time that, although it was early now he worried may prove to be of utmost importance on the other end of his journey.
An hour more passed hiking down the marked path until it ended abruptly. This had been anticipated but none of the reconnaissance had instructed him which of the endless options to follow next. He traipsed the hillsides next to the barren river bed but could not ascertain a marker and peering up at the gigantic peaks looming over him did not offer any further indication as to how he was supposed to traverse them to the other side. Doubt crept into his mind; if he couldn't even find the start of the trail how was he supposed to complete such an arduous and demanding trek? Each time he tripped, slipped or met another dead end his confidence diminished.
Verging on despair he sat atop a rock to study his map and then recalled a shoddy map he had received prior. There was one key difference, for this one showed a minor trail running alongside the river. Cutting down toward it he did indeed find a track which he followed for some time with a touch of hope. When he did finally spot a marking he had been expecting he nearly leapt with joy and relief. This track carried on for some time until it reached the beginning of the climb, presumably all the way over the kilometre vertical rise and down the other side.
While donning his invisible shielding he peered up in the direction of a noise like a jet engine and watched as snow gathered itself and launched unabashedly over cliff's edge and down the mountainside. Into the forest he began, at first along upward paths like he'd taken nearly every day in preparation for this journey. This was sweat inducing work, so much so that his wristwatch fogged with the effort. In short time patches of snow presented themselves on the route and he cutely sidestepped them in an effort to keep his feet dry. This quickly proved fruitless as the snow overwhelmed and there was no way but through it, yet he was careful to brush the snow out of the tongue of his boot each time his foot slipped deeper than his ankle. Gathering a hiking stick for balance he eventually found himself in a deep snow covered field with coniferous trees on the edges but any of the paths or markings that might guide him were all blanketed. Trudging up to his lower shins now after a short time he spied a landmark from his gathered information however it was well off and up toward a seemingly impenetrable mountain peak. Seeing no other option he moved towards it until along the way another landmark pushed him in an opposing direction which seemed more feasible and he followed that with the snow getting noticeably deeper. Utilising his stick he would dig it in and then step carefully but even still his foot would sink knee deep from time to time.
As he emerged from the woods the real mountain pass presented itself in all its terror before him. Truthfully it wasn't all of its terror for although the steep, snowy way up was foreboding the true summit could not yet be seen around a cliff.
He set forth to cross the first field and found it outrageously demanding work. Often his foot would sink too deep into the snow to step off from, even sliding right down to his hip without ever touching bottom on increasingly frequent occasion. By the time he reached the other side of field one his walking stick had sunk right to his red hand a number of times and he was out of breath which was especially troubling when considering how little progress he had made. Being at the edge of the pass and the foot of a rocky cliff he decided on an attempt to climb rather than hike in the deep snow. Hucking his stick aside he preferred to use the familiar branches of the noble pine trees which he knew due to their flexibility would only bend but not break, even under the full weight of his body. Despite pine assistance the going was slow as the rocks beneath the mounded snow were both slick and steep. After far too long he reached the end of this particular ridge and stopped both to slow his clamouring heart and survey the onward journey. A cold wind swept down behind him, for the sweat of the forest had long since frozen, and made the already bleak outlook only that much worse. He had traversed a seemingly negligible portion to the top, a less steep portion, he noted dourly. With so much of him already spent he couldn't possibly go on and began to plot his route back out of this frigid notch.
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