The unmistakably wintry weather that has settled over the La Crosse River Trail lately has brought with it a few memories of similar situations from years gone by. In my own case it’s largely concerned with walking against the wind. If I do say so myself, this is one activity with which I have had my share of experience. It started with walking to school.

I was fortunate enough to have had neighbors during my first two years of school who didn’t want their kids walking about two miles each way each day along our one-lane country road. They had a Model A Ford and a mother who could drive, and, consequently, my sister and I were treated to a lot of rides during my first two years at the brain factory.

Reality set in, though, when those folks moved away, and my sister and I had to learn the hard way what it was like to walk two miles each way every day. Practice makes perfect, and we were soon acclimated to the daily ordeal.

Once the mercury dropped below zero, though, we learned that walking against the wind wasn’t any fun. With the help of scarves (which we hated) we kids became acclimated to the majority of the weather — and learned how to walk backward for a while against the rest. Each ensuing year, we became a bit better at adapting to increasing cold. As a young man spending a lot of time outdoors, I could stand almost anything. I have since discovered that such a situation no longer applies.

Just this morning, for example, I walked to our post office — roughly three blocks away from my house — to pick up our mail. Almost anyone I might have met would have called me adequately clad. Nor did I suffer on the trip to that destination. A rather chilly breeze was coming over my right shoulder, caressing my right ear lobe and my right cheek. No problem, really.

But after about five minutes indoors, while gathering my mail, I was greeted by an icy blast right in the face for the return trip. Fortunately, our little store is about halfway to my house, and I was able to duck in there for a few minutes. Long enough to take the sting from my cheeks.

During all those years of youth, the coldest I can remember was 22 below. Many times, though. And plenty of times not quite that cold but below zero. Then, in about 1951 or 52 we experienced 40 below.

But the coldest I’ve ever felt was one January night in about 1970 or so. I had to walk about two blocks — half of it against the wind — one night. I found I couldn’t face the wind at all. Never had I experienced anything like it!

Once home, I found that our TV weatherman was reporting a windchill of 70 below in La Crosse.

That probably meant right here in Rockland, too. Along the trail!