Yesterday I had the great pleasure of seeing Edmonton and the river valley in an entirely new light, thanks to Tom. We walked through his Glenora neighbourhood all the way around the river to Valleyview (next to Katz’s house), replicating his running route. It was spectacularly beautiful, from the fountain in Glenora to the panoramic view of the snaking river valley as we walked from one lookout point and bench to another. As I have discovered in my 20 years of trail walking in Edmonton, there are myriad ways to experience the river valley and ravines of this city, and they all have their unique pleasures and secrets. What a great thing to ‘discover’ yet another incredible view, another series of trails, and entirely new levels of beauty. It was simply amazing.

The day was uncharacteristically warm, but as per usual in spring, hellaciously windy. Glenora is a well-known ritzy area of Edmonton and yeah, the houses were suitably grand, but I was surprised by the funkiness of some of the architecture and yard art. Kind of like an upscale Mill Creek. It was a only a few blocks to the edge of the river valley, and from that point on, we just walked around its periphery, stopping occasionally to watch ice chunks flow down the river. My photos don’t capture how beautiful the vistas were, or how nice the day was, but I am hoping for more walks in that area, especially as the city greens up.

We have many trails to discover.

3:30 to 6:30/21C

Great walk yesterday. And by great I mean muddy. And by muddy I mean really really muddy. We’ve reached that point in spring, rather early I might add, where the trails are a combination of dry dirt, quagmires of mud, pools of murky water, and ice. Not especially conducive to the Zen experience I’ve come to expect. All my consciousness was directed toward staying upright and finding the next tree/branch/Tom to grip as I attempted to cross flooded paths. Some guy was even running barefoot (“my shoes aren’t water-proof”) which must have felt…in some ways…kind of wonderful. Maybe.

I was glad that my partner in all things mud managed to remain upright, thus maintaining his dignity, not to mention the presentability of his pants. And also, it was very instructive with regard to the location and size of every fucking hole in my running shoes. My socks will never recover, and my toes are still miffed.

Our walk began below the stairs at the end of Whitemud Ravine, beyond the Talus balls and over the footbridge at Fort Edmonton. Near the river, which is 50% unfrozen, the mud was full of deer prints. Deermud in Whitemud. Parts were lovely, including an almost eye-level woodpecker (downy, I think CORRECTION Hairy), and of course, the day itself which was warm. Later that evening, it rained so a very typical early spring day with bonus mud and woodpeckers.

2:30 – 5:00/10C

Walked up to the manufactured wetland at the west end of the powerline. Surprisingly, the water is still frozen, but the geese have arrived. En masse. There is just enough open water to keep them happy, I guess. I always feel a little sorry for these early arrivals. Around the back end of the pond, there were about 20-30 geese, honking very vehemently. Not sure if it was some sort of mating call or if they were just pissed at the intrusion into their lair. Geese can be very territorial. We got dive-bombed a couple of times. It was beautiful and terrifying.

Had a chat with an older lady who is apparently responsible for setting up three or four nesting boxes for the geese, as well as feeding them. I think I love her.

In keeping with the arrival of spring today, the Bohemian Waxwings have also been very active, swarming the trees, getting drunk on berries and singing rhapsodies. It was a good, but shortish walk. Windy, which is also a regular feature of spring. It’s supposed to snow tomorrow, but the rest of March has been mostly snowless and very warm. It looks like the trees should be popping into blossom any day, but even in an El Niño year, I know that’s still weeks…and weeks away.

2:30-4:00/7C

So close to reverting to running shoes, but the trails…the trails. Still icy. Still slushy.

Yesterday’s walk was a Wyeth painting in tones of brown, ochre, white and black. Hashmarked branches on pen & ink trees. A subdued sun in a pale sky. Beautiful cacophonies of bohemian waxwings. Chickadees feeding out of my hand.

Life either waking up, or shutting down. The earliest days of spring.

2:30-4:30/9C

Nothing so dramatic in Whitemud this morning as Saturday’s pigeon orgy, but it was beautiful nonetheless. Snow on Sunday softened the colours of the ravine, momentarily veiling its pretty spring face. I was the only one down there other than a jogger and further up the trail, a woman and her two tiny dogs. Otherwise it very quiet and very peaceful.

It feels like a long time since I’ve walked alone, or purposely went out on a day that, from indoors, looks gloomy. As I suspected, it wasn’t nearly as gloomy once I was moving and breathing in the fresh air. Blue sky and sun would have ramped up the action, in particular the melting, but I guess it wasn’t meant to be that kind of day.

The decision to walk was made after I spent a few minutes reading old March posts on this blog. Seems it didn’t take much to lace up my running shoes back when walking played a much more central role in my life. A role it needs to play again.

Strange footprints leading into the ravine. Must be those weird foot-shaped running shoes or maybe someone really did walk barefoot into the ravine. The creek itself was an alarming shade of yellow. Who knows why? Mill Creek often turns an ungodly green this time of year.

I walked as far as the pond at the far west point and then turned around. As I walked, a murmuration of bohemian waxwings formed overhead. It was stark and beautiful against the empty sky. I could feel the bass thrum of their wing flaps in my chest.

11:20-12:45/0C