The rugged mountains in all Parks are wonderful in the snow. Snowshoe excursions, climbs, skiing--all the sports of winter--may be enjoyed in these magnificent wilds. Mountains in winter hold splendid decorations--sketches of black and white, ice architecture, rare groups that form a wondrous winter exhibition. Forests, cañons, meadows, plateaus and peaks, where hills of snow and gigantic snow cañons form dazzling structures and new topography, are marvelous exhibitions. The thousand and one decorations of frost and snow-flowers are treasures found only under the winter sky. During a high wind one winter, as I fought my way up Long's Peak, above timber-line I was pelted with gravel and sand till the blood was drawn. The milling air-currents simply played with me as they swept down from the heights. I was knocked down repeatedly, blown into the air, and then dropped heavily, or rolled about like some giant's toy as I lay resting in the lee of a crag. Standing erect was usually impossible and at all times dangerous. Advancing was akin to swimming a whirlpool. At last I reached the buzzing cups of an air-meter I had previously placed in Granite Pass, twelve thousand feet above sea-level. This instrument was registering the awful wind-speed of one hundred and sixty-five miles an hour! It flew to pieces later during a swifter spurt. [Illustration: LONG'S PEAK FROM CHASM LAKE ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK] Although I intended going no farther, the wild and eloquent elements lured me to keep on to the summit of the peak, nearly three thousand feet higher. All my strength and climbing knowledge were necessary to prevent me from being blown into space. Gaining each new height was a battle. Forward and upward I simply wrested my way with an invisible, tireless contestant who seemed bent on breaking my bones or hurling me into unbanistered space. In one rocky gully the uprising winds became so irresistible that I had to reverse ends and proceed with feet out ahead as bracers and hands following as anchors. There was no climbing from here on: the blast dragged, pulled, and floated me ever upward to the sunny, wind-sheltered Narrows. The last stretch was a steep icy slope with a precipice beneath. Casting in my lot with the up-sweeping wind, I pushed out into it and let go. Sprawling and bumping upward, I had little else to do but guide myself. At last I stood on the top and found it in an easy eddy--almost a calm compared to the roaring conditions below. Far down the range great quantities of snow were being explosively hurled into the air, then thrown into spirals and whirls that trimmed the peak-points with gauzy banners and silky pennants, through which the sunlight played splendidly.