We’re in for it. 20 cm of snow by Sunday. I was geared up for a longer walk, but the wind was blowing straight in my eyeballs, and short of a balaclava, which I’ve given up wearing ever since the court ordered me to, there was really no way to protect my face parts. The temperature is not bad, but windchill determines the length of my walks this time of year. And of course, daily variations in overall laziness.
Walked straight down Saskatchewan Drive on the north side of the road. Not much of a path, so I followed the narrow groove of a bike track. Can’t believe someone rode a bike in this! Not a surprise that for the duration of my 30 minute walk, there was a constant drone of sirens in the background. A good night to stay home and eat chips.
Bad timing, perhaps. I walked to Whyte Avenue this morning and sky was overcast and unremarkable. Little did I know the clouds were withholding a fortune in snowflakes, waiting…I think, for my first step into Mill Creek in the early afternoon. Really, it’s like being caught in a rainstorm…there’s nothing to do but enjoy it. And I did. The scenery was just stunning, all of it, everywhere. The deep green-grey of the spruce and pine trees, their individual shapes dissolved by a thousand million snowflakes. The almost blinding white of the valleys and hills, the snow thick enough to conceal all but the tips of the tallest grasses. Sometimes I had to blink a few times to see the trails,
A creek made of lime slushie
the packed snow almost invisible against the stuff undisturbed by foot or ski. Most surprising was the creek, free of snow, but turned an impossibly bright toxic green, which was quite spectacular against the subdued colours along the banks. Can’t explain it, and the picture I took did not capture the day-glo strangeness of the colour.
I stopped several times to warm up my camera in my hands, which didn’t help. I left several achingly beautiful scenes unphotographed, simply because my overly sensitive lens refused to expose itself to the cold. It would peak out for a second, and then abruptly retreat back into itself, like a turtle. An introverted turtle. Most annoying. Even though my efforts to warm the camera proved futile, I kept trying, and each time I stopped, the sounds of the ravine came flooding into my ears. Sparrows and chickadees singing and foraging in the trees and bushes, oblivious to or maybe just not minding the snowfall. And how do do describe the sound that snowflakes, a million weightless snowflakes make as they alight on branches? It’s something, but what? A fluttering? The softest of rains, the quietest hum, heard at a distance? I could hear the birds, and I could hear the traffic from 99th and the river valley, but there was something else, and it was the indescribable sound of a snowstorm.
This was the last walk of my holidays. Back to work tomorrow, and back to late afternoon, early evening walks. Mostly in the dark, although we have gained about twenty minutes at the end of the day. As usual for the Christmas break, I didn’t walk as often as I would have liked, but the horrifying cold and the fear of amputated extremities kept me inside. It’s warmed up considerably as of a few days ago, and I’ve been able to take advantage of the good weather. This includes today, in the falling snow.
2011. Shouldn’t I be wearing a jet-pack, instead of a fleece? Nothing futuristic about a fleece and mittens. The first walk of 2011 (and the last four days.) Not bad, and sort of good, in parts. At the beginning, the wind seemed as if it wanted to rip the first layer of skin off my ears (I forgot my hat), but by the time Maggie and I reached the ravine, it was pleasant enough. Maggie was certainly happy to be outside, plowing the snow with her snout. She lifted a foot or two during the first five minutes of our walk, but I think her discomfort had more to do with the salt on the sidewalk than the cold, which has ‘warmed’ up to a balmy -8C, from -17C yesterday. I had hoped to do a lot of walking in Whitemud Creek while dog-sitting, but it’s been bitingly cold. The dog and I have been going stir-crazy, so we ventured out briefly yesterday. A quick romp in the park, and Maggie was done. Back home to more sleeping (her) and more eating (me.) I’m glad it’s warming up. I’m becoming unrecognizable.
One of two Maggies, by the powerline
There was a bit of a melee at the power line, which leads to the ravine, but no blood, and no arrests. A big yellow lab tackled us (several times), in a playful way. Turns out, she too was named Maggie, so every time I tried to pull my Maggie away, the other dog thought I was calling her. With all that heft and hair, the dog was impervious to the cold, and not particularly obedient, but I think Maggie enjoyed the brief, non-human contact. Pee-mail has its limits.
Once we hit the ravine, it started to snow. Maggie could barely contain her excitement at being outside after so many days locked up in the house with a cat (mine) who somehow manages to make her feel unwelcome in her own home. That’s what I love about dogs. They are always in the moment. Happy just to be
Hurry up, lardass
standing at the door, anticipating a walk, or maybe another visit from Santa, or chasing an almost invisible snowball in a blindingly white snowfield. We didn’t get very far. Followed the creek for a bit, and then the other Maggie showed up, so we turned around and went up the other side. Normally, we would have continued all the way through Whitemud to the ski hill, but about 45 minutes into the walk, Maggie sat down. That’s dog for, “I’m done, and in need of a belly rub and a light snack.” We ran down the hill, the snow driving into our faces. It was exhilarating, but cold. Hopefully tomorrow it will be a few degrees warmer, and we can go for a much longer walk.
Even nicer today, although the temperature is the same. More sun, maybe, and no wind. Did the full-loop around Mill Creek, which is about a 90 minute walk, or three peanut M&M’s.
Woody, are you in there?
Quite a few more walkers this afternoon, most with dogs. Very friendly dogs, too, which is always a pleasure for my dog-deprived petting hand.
Stopped a few times to listen to the birds. The crunch of snow underfoot muffles the sound of their chirpy little songs, but more specifically, I’m hoping to hear a Pileated Woodpecker. In 2009, I saw quite a few, but this year, if I’m not mistaken (I’ll have to scroll through these entries, as well as the journal previous to this blog), I don’t think I’ve seen any. No particular reason to be so interested, it’s just cool to see one of these incredibly odd birds. They look like dinosaurs from the neck up. Must be the dry air in these parts.
It’s just so beautiful, all of it, far more than than a photo can convey.
Once more into the snowy breach (by the Macdonald Hotel)
Holycowthatwasagreatwalk. Really. It’s been so long. About a week since I’ve gone for a proper hike, and it felt GREAT. The decorations are packed away, a book has been cracked open for the first time in a month, and I am tentatively back to my usual eating and walking routine. It sucks to be off-kilter. Overfed and overstimulated, and almost completely underexercised. It’s the same thing every December. Apparently I’m a slow-learner. An astonishingly fast eater, though…
I could have gone for a walk yesterday, but it seemed to take the entire day to dismantle my tree and wrap everything up for another year. Bending down a thousand times to pick up fake pine needles, or some sparkly bit dislodged from a decoration does not count as exercise, but it should, damn it. After battling the tree (fondly known as Mangy-Anne), I had no energy left for a walk, so I did something that did not require any lifting, hauling, packing, wrapping, bending over, or the unhinging of my jaw. I read a book. Sebastian Faulks, A Week in December. I read for hours, from late afternoon, well into the evening (with a hour’s pause for Celebrity Rehab.) It was grand. I hope to do much more of this during my week off, barring any particularly tasty marathons on HGTV.
The trails were as I left them, snow-covered and mostly pristine. Courtesy of the flocks of drunken Waxwings
ahhh....
swooping about, some had bits of twigs and berries strewn across the path. Others, like the one near Skunk Hollow, seemed barely touched by hiking boot; just the criss-cross of skis. In spite of the overcast morning, by 11:30, the clouds buggered off just in time for my walk. I can’t overstate the impact of blue sky and sunshine on my overfestived brain. It’s not that I’ve been unhappy, it’s just that I’ve been indoors. Even though the sun has no warmth this time of year, what it lacks in heat (and vitamin D) it more than makes up for in cheer. Sort of like a G&T over ice.
Bridge over Untroubled (and unseen) Mill Creek
I did a loop from the middle of Mill Creek to downtown, and then back through the trail behind Skunk Hollow. About two hours. A bit slower than usual, I think, but I’ll pick up speed in the next few days (and weeks), once the vegetables overtake the shortbread in my sluggish veins. It’s supposed to get colder, which is a bit worrying. I’m moving south for a few days to take care of a beloved doggie, who is very much looking forward to taking me for some ‘awesome frolics’ (her words) in Whitemud Creek. Hopefully the weather will remain walkable for the rest of my holidays.
