It Helps When a Tall Handsome Hungarian Man Who Looks Just Like George Harrison Shows Up on a Snowmobile at the Exact Right Time

We were huffing and puffing and blowing our boots out trying to get through fresh snow that measured about thigh-high on me and shoulder high on them.  I had underestimated the depth of the snow on these trails, and overestimated their enthusiasm for this kind of hike.  C'mon kids--it'll get better, I kept telling them.  Artie rolled her eyes and sighed while Biscuit swore old man swears under his breath.  The more we walked, the more it didn't get better. They stared at me like I was out of my mind.  Of course, I'm out of my mind, I assured them.

As we pressed on, my hopes for easier walking began to fade.  I had hoped that the wind would have blown off enough snow to make our walk reasonably invigorating but instead, the only thing being blown off was my plan.  In protest, Biscuit finally stopped walking.  Artemis held the On Strike sign.  

I slumped into the snow and figured we'd eventually be eaten by wolves.  Oopsie, I thought to myself.

But alas...

In the distance came the sound of a buzz.  The buzz grew louder until it became and hum and the hum became a drum roll and the drum roll became a symphony of machine-chompin' commotion heading right to our Desperation Camp deep in the snow.  The man on the snowmobile slowed his machine as he approached our spot.  He hopped off his machine and as he said hello, he pulled off his hat, revealing a warm, friendly (and very handsome) smile. [Let's see here--I'm stuck in the snow with two tired dogs who refuse to go forward or backward and out of nowhere comes a man on a snowmobile who happens to look like George Harrison.] I had to pinch myself and check to see if I knew the date and my address and the names of my children.  

He spoke (with a beautiful accent...sigh) and this is what he said:  Hi there.  I hope you don't mind that I'm out here on this noisy smelly machine.  So sorry if I am disturbing your walk (loved how he said walk.  Could I get him to say it again, I wondered....).  

Me: Oh, you've come at just the right time.  I'm hoping you'll blaze a trail for us back to the road.  *It's too deep for the Old Man Biscuit to make it.  

Handsome Snowmobile Man:  I'd be happy to!  Tell me which way you want to go and I'll lay some track. (The way he said track....)  

Me:  Thank you so much!

HSM:  Have a good afternoon.  Enjoy the snow!

And we were saved from starvation and hypothermia and big bad wolves and we lived happily ever after.

The end.

*I know.  I blamed it all on Biscuit.  He said I could.