I hate frostbite. But I don't hate swimming in a cenote before eating elote.

Within 36 hours of flying off the Ruth Glacier in Alaska with black toes, I'd booked a ticket to Mexico for six days later. I'd fly from Alaska, be home for four hours, then head back to the airport.
"Mexico," I thought, "should be the perfect place to thaw out my toes."

I don't tend to do vacations, and especially not beach vacations. And especially not in the spring, which is prime ski mountaineering time. But Katie Boue and I took advantage of my forced rest time. We sat on hammocks, sat on the beach, and sat on benches while staring at Chichin Itza.