I note the subtle tones of gray throughout that photo, with wisps of gloom and despair, sucking the life force out of those who are not prepared for the never-ending assault on their psyche throughout the long winter in this rockbound highland area.
I bet if the camera lens was turned in the opposite direction, there would be a Swampfox with a big grin on its face, thinking "Hmmm, shoulda brought my skis, but since I didn't, might as well just cavort and frolic with what I got."
There was indeed one set of ski tracks discernible in the snow. It only occurred to me as I was finishing up that I had only seen ski tracks, and no pole marks--perhaps an arm-less skier? Or maybe the whole day was only imagined, and not real? A late May snow day is truly a mysterious thing.
I know that with my perfectly gray knit cap, which blended in perfectly with everything else, it must have lent this runner with a headless appearance, had anyone else been there to observe.