Freezing...wonderfully freezing. At the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, near vertical canyon walls plunge 2000 feet to the roaring white water of the Gunnison River.
About 4 degrees, the air was crisp and so cold icicles formed on my eyelashes. We hiked to the South Rim of the canyon, peering down into its depths, the roar of the water echoing up the walls.
The canyon almost seems to come out of nowhere -- from gently sloping foothills suddenly appears this phenomenally steep canyon of ancient rock, dating back nearly two billion years.
A vividly blue scrub jay hopped about in the chilling air, pulling frozen tidbits out of snow banks and gulping them down hungrily. It flew up to a treetop, puffing up its feathers against the cold.