Most of the year, the wind blows from the west where I live, but in winter it slides around to the north, and it’s predictable enough to build that into your plans. A couple weeks ago, I set out to traverse a long ridge in Joshua Tree National Park, going north to south with the wind at my back and returning along the valley floor, thinking I’d have a nice boost from behind up high and easier going down below.
Winter and fall were arguing about who was in charge, however, and when I got out there, fall was winning and the wind was blowing stiffly from the west. By stiff, I mean the gusts were above forty miles per hour, which I know because I carry one of those wind-speed measuring things; smart people call them anemometers.
It was a struggle to stay on the crest of the ridge, even at times to stay on my feet. It was a struggle to
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