Snowflake Monday

When you go to a restaurant, do you always order the same thing? Or do you sometimes try something new?

What about yarn and thread? Do you always buy the same thing, or do you try new things?

I go through periods of "white boredom" because of the number of snowflakes I make. Plus, I love rainbows and bright colors. Addicted to neon. Imagine my delight when I found glow-in-the-dark Jelly Yarn...

I budgeted for three balls (because I wanted to try all three glow colors, blondly not thinking, um, do I really want to make yellow snowflakes???), but found an incredible sale going on when I made my purchase. Not only were the yarns on sale, the winter special Buy 3/Get 1 Free was too good to be true! I ordered my glow stuff, and I emailed Jelly Yarns to ask for a ball of silver as my freebie. Because silver snowflakes would be cool. And because I have at least a couple of silver mountains after which to name flakes.

Kathleen Greco, the brains behind Jelly Yarn, did more than just send me my free silver. She looked me up on Ravelry and immediately noticed that I love crocheting with thread. So she threw in two more free balls of her new thread-weight for me to try.

(Disclosure: I probably would have bought the thread-weight on my own once it was publicly released and likely will buy more because I LOVE it! But I did initially get to try it free. Kathleen did not ask me to write a review and did not ask me to give her any plugs or write any patterns. I'm doing this because I want to and because I like the way the thread-weight looks and feels, and the snowflakes I've made with it are, in my opinion, awesome.)

My first Jelly Yarn pattern is simple and basic because I wanted to try different sizes of hooks and weights of Jelly Yarn, all using the same pattern, to get the feel of the yarn and what would work and look best. I started with the Frosted Ice thread-weight and a size B crochet hook. I then made a second flake with the second ball of clear Ice thread-weight and a size F hook, which is the size recommended for the super fine. I used a size G hook and the same pattern for the fine silver (sport-weight). Size H is recommended. I liked the way the silver flake turned out, so I used the G again with the Green Peppermint, my first glow-in-the-dark snowflake. I modified the pattern a bit to make the picots more defined and have included that modification below.

Online Jelly Yarn orders come with free beeswax and instructions to apply it to your hook and the yarn (the beeswax also can be used on your hands). Metal hooks are recommended. I tried the yarn with and without beeswax. I used only metal hooks. For me, the sports-weight glides more easily with beeswax, but is still workable without. I loved working with the stretchy thread-weight so much, it didn't matter whether I used beeswax or not.

One thing I did notice is that picots need an extra stitch in Jelly Yarn. So if your picot calls for chain 3, chain 4 will get a little more of a point than a chain 3. That adjustment has already been made in the patterns below. Ends are much more invisible when woven in than with thread and yarn. Knots seem to be a bit sturdier; pulling a square knot tight, stretching and releasing is recommended, and I found that technique completely suitable. I tried both chain starts and magic ring starts, and I didn't like the chain start at all for this pattern. So instructions include only the magic ring.

Jelly Yarn works best for full, solid snowflakes and does not work as well on open, lacy patterns that require stiffening to acquire the shape.

The very best thing of all about using Jelly Yarn for snowflakes is... the snowflakes don't have to be stiffened!!! And you can block them with your fingers. You don't have to pin them! Finished crocheted snowflakes made of Jelly Yarn weigh more than flakes made of thread or yarn, but so do commercial snowflakes made of plastic, wood, glass or whatever.

Although I love playing with my glow-in-the-dark snowflake (trying to get the perfect glow photo) and my co-workers think it's just about the coolest thing they've ever seen, my favorite Jelly Yarn by far is the Ice (clear) thread-weight (super fine). To me, snowflakes made with it look real, and I love the way light comes through.

I don’t know yet how many snowflakes you can get out of a ball of Jelly Yarn, but it will be many. Unless you make HUGE snowflakes.

Oh, yeah, I am supposed to write about the mountain, too, right? Ha ha...

When I first decided to order Jelly Yarn, I thought I would be naming the first snowflake after one of our Collegiate Peaks. I had decided each of those mountains needs a snowflake with an educational flair. I've vowed to try something new for each of those mountains because they are named after Ivy League universities. When I saw that I could get a fourth ball of Jelly Yarn for free, I picked the silver specifically to make Mount Silverheels snowflakes.

Mount Silverheels is the 96th tallest peak in Colorado at 13,829 feet. South Park (yes, THAT South Park) sits at the foot of Mount Silverheels. In the Mosquito Range and between Fairplay and ski haven Breckenridge, Silverheels was named after a dance hall girl who, according to legend, nursed miners through an 1861 small pox epidemic and eventually contracted the disease herself. According to legend, she still walks the Fairplay cemetery, veiled in black to hide her scars, to lay flowers on the graves of the miners who died.

Mount Silverheels has been one of my perpetual winter goals since 2002. I made it to the top of Point 13,004 on New Year's Day four months before The Lizard and I began dating, and the mountain's gale-force winds have prevented a climb every winter ever since. If I finally make it all the way to the summit this winter, my Silverheels Snowflake will be in my pack! A good luck charm of sorts.

PS: I'm pretty certain that lemonade-colored glow-in-the-dark Jelly Yarn won't end up as snowflakes. I'm thinking gecko or chameleon...

You may do whatever you'd like with snowflakes you make from this pattern, but you may not sell or republish the pattern. Thanks, and enjoy!


Finished Size: 2 inches to 4.5 inches from point to point, depending upon hook and yarn size
Materials: Fine or Extra Fine Jelly Yarn, recommended size H or F crochet hook , respectively, (although you may use whatever size feels right for you), clear thread or fishing line, optional Christmas ornament hanger or mini suction cup, depending upon personal hanging preference

Mount Silverheels Snowflake Instructions

Make magic ring. (Tutorial here.)

Round 1: Ch 3 (counts as 1 dc), 11 dc in ring, sl st in 1st dc. Pull magic ring as tight as desired, depending upon personal preference.
If you're not reading this pattern on Snowcatcher, you're not reading the designer's blog. Please go here to see the original.

Round 2: 1 sc in same dc as last sl st; *1 hdc in next dc, 1 dc in same dc, ch 3, 1 dc in same dc, 1 hdc in same dc, 1 sc in next dc; repeat from * around 5 times, ending with sl st in starting sc instead of final sc of repeat.

Round 3: 1 sc in same sc as last sl st, *1 hdc in next ch 3 sp, 1 dc in same ch 3 sp, 1 tr in same ch 3 sp, ch 3, 1 tr in same ch 3 sp, 1 dc in same ch 3 sp, 1 hdc in same ch 3 sp, 1 sc in next sc; repeat 5 times, ending with sl st in starting sc instead of final sc of repeat. Bind off. Weave in ends. Jelly Yarns recommends tying a square not, pulling tight and then releasing. I used a smaller hook than what I crocheted with to bury my ends, and this worked easily and beautifully.

Alternate Round 3 (green snowflake): 1 sc in same sc as last sl st, *1 hdc in next ch 3 sp, 1 dc in same ch 3 sp, 1 tr in same ch 3 sp, ch 3, 1 sc in 2nd ch from hook, ch 1, 1 tr in same ch 3 sp, 1 dc in same ch 3 sp, 1 hdc in same ch 3 sp, 1 sc in next sc; repeat 5 times, ending with sl st in starting sc instead of final sc of repeat. Bind off. Weave in ends.

Finish: Shape with fingers if necessary. Attach thread or fishing line or suction cup or ornament hanger, and that’s it!!! You’re done!!!

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Sock Hop

Socks are so much fun. Socks are addictive. Want to read some fun sock quotes? Go here. But then come back. Because I've got more sock heaven to talk about!

During a recent mountain bike adventure, I learned I can wind yarn hanks into balls in the dark. No kidding!

We left home at 3:30 a.m. I had brought socks to work on, but asking my Lizard to drive dark and curvy mountain roads with the distracting dashboard light on isn't a wise idea. So I also stashed a couple hanks of yarn in my pack, in addition to current WIP socks, tiny scissors, crochet hook and double-pointed needles. (This also was the day I forgot to take my water bottles, Hammer gel and Luna bars on my mountain bike ride. So how handy that I just happened to have socks and yarn balls along for the ride. You can't eat 'em, but they sure can keep you occupied when your tummy is growling.)

I began winding the first hank of yarn into a ball maybe a mile from home. I didn't know if I'd be able to do the whole thing. If I came upon a giant tangle, or worse, I'd be stuck until daylight. You don't want to move a tangled hank before you untangle; you could make it much worse! Nevertheless, I took a chance, began winding, and it worked! I had that baby balled up before the horizon began to appear. So I did the second one. It was finished even faster than the first. Too bad I didn't bring more hanks.

Eight bargain hanks of yarn still need to be wound. Instead of trying to make time for them in the evenings after work and frequent visits to my friend Shonna in the hospital, I'm carrying this stuff on road trips from now on. I can wind in the dark! Not to be confused, of course, with whine in the dark, at which I'm sure I excel. Just ask The Lizard.

During another recent mountain biking adventure, I learned I can finish an entire sock during a daylight drive to and from Crested Butte! (Which is precisely why you rarely see handmade socks for sale. One pair takes from 12 to 18 hours to complete, depending upon the speed of the needleworker. Sock yarn is not cheap, even when you buy it on clearance. Some knitters on Ravelry estimate one pair of handmade socks is worth about $300. And I got choked up over the price of my first pair of cycling socks: $8... So consider yourself blessed, loved or just plain lucky if you ever find a pair of handmade socks beneath your Christmas tree.)

I didn't plan this particular sock-in-a-day project in advance. I grabbed two balls of yarn that looked good together: pink and gray Noro and silvery gray Karabella. The Noro had been calling out to me ever since I first grabbed it at a rare half-price sale. I wanted to make more miniature critter goodies with the gorgeous leftovers, so making the sock toe, heel and cuff gray seemed like a super smart thing to do.

As I finished up one silvery heel on the way home, I glanced out the window just in time to see Mount Silverheels, and I crocheted even faster so I could get a shot of my Silver Heeled sock with Silverheels! Upon request, The Lizard lovingly found a safe pullout, patiently waited for me to finish, then carefully held the sock up so I could shoot this shot. He then didn't utter a single complaint when I begged, "Can I shoot the moon, too?"

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Mount Silverheels, Part 2

See Part 1 here.

Sometimes you can do all the right stuff and still get into trouble. I tried to make wise decisions before I took on Silverheels. I told at least five people where I would be going. I told them when to expect me back. I took all the right equipment, even though it meant my pack was heavier than what I wanted to carry. I had an emergency shelter, extra fleece, rain poncho, knife, notepad and paper, enough food and water to get me through 24 hours, flashlight, extra batteries, lighter, snowshoes and first aid kit. I was prepared for a snowstorm or an unexpected and unplanned night in the mountains.

I went up a very circuitous route instead of the straightforward route. I think I added two miles onto my trek, but in retrospect, aside from not attaining the summit, I am glad I took the route I took. It was a good hike. I enjoyed the journey, and I got some terrific pictures. I saw parts of the mountain others most likely miss.

I was so discouraged when I decided I should turn back, I was near the point of tears. I didn't pay enough attention to where I was going. I noticed about a mile and a half down there were no footprints on the trail I was traversing.

I’d been following human tracks, and I thought I was going the right way. But suddenly the footprints were gone, and I didn't notice until it was too late.

I backtracked quite a bit trying to find familiar terrain. All uphill. I didn’t have anything left inside me to do this, and each step I took made me further from my car. I grimaced as I realized I probably was going to come out at the wrong trailhead, and I would be miles away from my car, which I would have to find in the dark. The oncoming storm at this point was actually beginning to threaten.

I knew I could spend a night in the mountains alone if I needed to, but I didn’t want to. I knew everyone I’d told of my destination would be extremely worried, and I didn’t want to do that to them. Search and rescue would cost more than I could afford. What if they pulled in helicopters??? We're talking thousands of dollars.

I had to get back to a road. Any road leading to civilization. I was on what looked like a very old and undeveloped road, so I decided to keep following it.

Eventually the road petered into a three-trail junction. None of my surroundings were familiar. I’d lost a lot of elevation, and I couldn’t see any high peaks to orient myself. I had to use my compass and the position of the sun, which was now totally engulfed in heavy nimbus clouds.

The trail numbers marking the junction were completely unfamiliar to me and not on my map. I thought if I called 911, at least they could tell me which way to head. Maybe someone would meet me at the trailhead and transport me back to my car. My fingers were crossed.

I dialed 911. The dispatcher took my name, my cell number and my location, then put me on hold to answer another incoming call that may have been a real emergency. My cell phone died.

I cried.

And I’m not trying to rhyme! I knew I had unintentionally started a search and rescue operation that might even make headlines. I was so paranoid, so devastated, so utterly helpless to do anything about it.

The sky was getting darker. The snow was coming down hard and fast. I could set up camp. I could start a fire. But something inside me urged me to keep going. I wrote notes and applied them to the trail markers. I built a wood cairn in the middle of the junction and stuck yet another note in it directing anyone who came by to check the trail markers.

I headed south, thinking that would eventually get me back to the highway, or the dirt road leading to my car, should I be so lucky.

About an hour later, I reached another trailmarker with yet another number I didn’t recognize. This was at the junction with a red dirt road. Quite stunning in appearance, the first 50 feet or so were entirely coated by a thick sheet of ice, frozen runoff engulfing the roadway. I would have to cross it to travel in the direction I thought would return me to civilization. I could go the other way, avoid the ice and get even further off target. So I traversed the tricky ice. It was not easy. I did not fall, but I had to move very cautiously and very slowly. With all the weight I was carrying, one false move, and I’d have done a face plant.

I think I walked another two miles down the red road before two tame dogs came running heartily toward me. I am so afraid of dogs, but I was so excited to see life forms! I let both dogs jump right up on me, and I welcomed them with open arms.

I could hear people voices in the distance calling to the dogs to return. My heart was doing somersaults. Oh, I was about to be rescued!!! I wanted to set my pack down and run! I knew I would need to remove the notes I’d left, just in case someone found them two or three days later and started a whole new search. I needed to call 911 to make sure they knew I’d been found.

When the dogs’ owners first saw me, they apologized for their dogs, and I simply stated, “I’m so glad to see your dogs. I’m lost.”

The couple said I was heading the right direction, but they warned I was still several miles from where I was trying to get. They offered to take me back to my car, which at the time they didn’t even know the location of, and I gladly, wholeheartedly, graciously, thankfully accepted.

When I called 911 from their cabin to report I had been found, the dispatcher said search and rescue had not been sent out yet because they didn’t know if I had found my way back to my vehicle, since they couldn’t get hold of me. I explained my phone had died while I was on hold, and I was unable to communicate in any other way until I reached my rescuers' cabin.

Imagine my surprise when upon reaching the trailhead, the female half of a husband/wife search and rescue team was studying the Silverheels map at the trailhead.

She asked if I was the lost hiker. Her husband was at the southeast trailhead just in case I came out that way. I told her I thought search and rescue hadn't been called. She said she'd heard it on the radio, and she and her husband got ready just in case, not wanting to waste precious hours in this kind of storm.

All three of my rescuers knew exactly where I’d taken a wrong turn. They said it happens all the time, and that seasoned mountaineers frequently make the same mistake. And oh, that fall on the ice at the end of the day? The part I wouldn't have told anyone? They witnessed it. Start to finish. Not only did I show them how lost someone can get, but I demonstrated my full klutz capabilities as well!

Nevertheless, I have learned my lesson. I lost the capability to make wise decisions when I got emotional. I need to stay sharp to think clearly. I’ve also learned that when I make bad choices, God further sharpens my mind by giving me the opportunity to think and act. He doesn't usually give me an easy way out on a silver platter. He allows me to work my way out of the bad places I get myself into.

I expected a medium-sized bill for making the canine-equipped search and rescue couple leave their warm, safe homes on a holiday to come out looking for me, especially when it turned out to be a false alarm, so to speak.

Instead, I was invited to help the couple train their dogs next time I'm in the area. I befriended four really cool people. And I learned to keep my cell phone warm if I expect it to work in cold weather.

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Mount Silverheels, Part 1

1 January 2004

This report was going to read, “Black Check! Black Check! Black Check! I rang in 2004 with my first calendar winter summit!"

I belong to a mountain climbing group with an online peakbagging checklist. Black checkmarks are awarded for calendar winter summits of 14ers and centennial 13ers. I wanted a black check. Almost everyone else in the group had at least one black check, and I, like a teenager obsessed with the latest trend, wanted a black check of my own.

However, I didn’t reach the Centennial peak I set out to climb. I did bag Pt. 12,282, Palmer Peak and Pt. 13,004. I did them in winter, and I did them alone. I had the entire mountain to myself on a beautiful day. I got a great workout, and I had glorious views. But alas, no black check for me. At least not today.

I camped near Florissant after shooting the fireworks on Pikes Peak from a lovely moonlit perch in Garden of the Gods and awoke an hour later than intended for the drive to the Beaver Creek trailhead.

After loading necessary gear in my pack, I headed north on the standard trail at about 8 a.m. I carried my snowshoes even though the southern slopes of Silverheels appeared wind-scoured. I didn’t want to take a chance on turning back due to unseen and nonnegotiable drifts. I wanted this peak!

The entire route was relatively snow-free, with the exception of occasional drifts and lingering accumulation in shaded areas that were easily bypassed. I never used the snowshoes. When I did posthole, my feet went only two to three inches deep. One drift was so firm I traversed it without sinking.

Above treeline, the wind picked up but was not the typical tundra blast to which I’ve grown accustomed. Throughout the day, the wind shredded cirrus and stratocumulus tatters from the western lenticular blanket to keep me alert to potential oncoming weather changes.

I quickly got off route upon reaching the skeleton forest on the wind-swept south slopes near treeline and spent most of the rest of the day tundra whacking due to the plethora of photos begging to be snapped. I’d been to Kite Lake three times but had never seen Democrat, which I'd summited in zero visibility on Labor Day weekend. From the slopes of Silverheels, I had magnificent views of the entire DeCaLiBro, Quandary, Little Baldy, the Tarryalls and the Buffaloes.

Upon reaching Pt. 13,004, Silverheels still seemed so far away. I didn’t want to return to my car in the dark with the oncoming storm and not really knowing the trail proper, since I hadn’t taken it. I sat on a rock, drank an orange juice and ate my still warm oatmeal. It was a good day, a great hike and a calendar winter summit. Just not a black checkmark on my list.

At the end of the day, when I reached Beaver Creek, I crossed to the right of the road, where the ice appeared thicker and less slippery. Just as I stepped back onto the bank, the ice broke, and the foot still on the creek took the proverbial polar plunge. My knee (the bad one, of course) smashed into the sharp ice edges. Fortunately, my ski pants prevented the ice from ripping through my skin, and fortunately, the temperature of the water temporarily deadened all the nerve endings in that leg so I could make it back to my car without limping too much. I am now the proud owner of phenomenal shades of green and purple epidermis.

And now… The REST of the story...

At the beginning of the day, I aimed for the summer trailhead and crossed Beaver Creek in my car, trying to cut down on mileage and preserve my bad knee. The 4Runner high centered on a chunk of ice when the weight of the vehicle busted through the frozen water. I got my first chance to use my ice ax. Cold, but FUN. I was hacking away like an ice ax murderer!!! It was almost like a snow cone-making event. I was chipping ice shavings EVERYWHERE! Completely coated the back of my car!

The rest of the tale, however, is not humorous. Even now, years later. I was too humiliated to tell the unpleasant and embarrassing truth back in 2004, and there may be elements of this story that help someone else. That is my hope.

to be continued...

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