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.
Finally, the shortest, darkest day of the year. Winter Solstice. The first day of winter. Not that any of this is in itself a remarkable piece of news. One stumble outside into a 6ft snowbank is reminder enough that it’s not summer. No, eighteen hours of soul-sucking dark is not a thing to celebrate. What is worthy of celebration? These four whisper thin, white chocolate almond cookies in my hand. Also, the reversal of the light/dark ratio. After today, the northern hemisphere will begin it’s slow turn back toward the sun. More light, in other words. Pagans everywhere are throwing off their clothes and slaughtering the fatted turducken.
Coincidentally, last night was the first lunar eclipse to overlap the winter solstice in 372 years. Just like last time, I slept right through it.
Ahhh…gotta love office Christmas parties. Especially lunch-time Christmas parties. Especially lunch-time Christmas parties where everyone gets to go home after all the gifts have been exchanged (or stolen, depending on the game), and the last email has been ignored. My work day ended just after 2:00 PM, which means, of course, a rare winter walk in the river valley on a weekday. It’s been so busy lately, it was a thrill to do something other than stare at a computer while the snowflakes beckoned outside the window on a not-too cold and entirely walkable day. Weeks, I think, since I’ve taken myself for a long walk. Popular opinion was that I was getting awfully antsy (bitchy.)
The sky was overcast, but the snow was gentle and soft; an afternoon begging to be photographed, in other words. However, my camera froze solid after about 15 minutes. I was wearing so many layers (fleece and bear grease), it was hard to accurately gauge the temperature. And I kept hearing shovels, but it was just the hat-muffled sound of my arms swinging against my parka. Could’ve sworn I was being followed.
After a sprint through the woods near the University, I headed over to the extremely picturesque (though christly
The road less shoveled
expensive) neighbourhood of Rossdale to check out the decorations. One house in particular is always worth a look this time of year because of the huge coloured balls hanging from the mountain ash tree. It’s beautiful, and unsual, especially today with the little caps of snow topping the ornaments. And then, over to my neglected little parkette, Louise McKinney. Nothing much going on there, other than more snow, so continued over to Mill Creek. It was pretty quiet everywhere, actually, other than my ever-present shovelers. No other walkers. Not even a dog. The unpaved trail I usually walk was almost unpassable. So much snow (20+ cm) over the last week, it was a bit of a slog. A lovely slog, but a slog nonetheless. Some girl ran by me on snowshoes. Snowshoe people are such show-offs.
It was dim by the time I exited the ravine, about two hours after I left work. That’s about one hour, 35 minutes longer than each of the previous week’s walks. I feel so smug. Bring on the Turtles.
And I don’t mean that in a let’s go make snowmen and frolic in the wonderland that is winter. No. I’m just too busy to go for a walk. Not even a quickie. First weekend in a long time, but I will make up for it. And pay for it. Too bad really, it looks lovely out there with all the fresh new snow. And not too terribly cold.
Managed to walk home most days last week, but nothing remarkable, just the short route. Supposed to be plus one tomorrow so fingers crossed and everything goes to plan, I’ll be able to slush my way home along one of the longer routes. Can’t wait for some holidays.
That’s more like it. 90 minutes is my preferred length of walk, and today, out in the bright sunshine, I was able to go from one end of Mill Creek to the other within that time frame. I did manage a few longer walks last week, but not consistently. In the 15 years of walking journals I’ve accumulated, December is always a difficult month. I’m usually still getting accustomed to my ‘snow legs’, and then there is all the usual Christmas activities that make walking a challenge. Like being fatter, for one. Happily I get almost two weeks off at Christmas so I’ll try to put a dent in all those shortbread calories.
It’s not just the fitness. When I started walking, it was definitely for the exercise. Now, many years later, it’s a combination of factors that keep me on the trails. I’ve grown very attached to the landscape. Even though I branch out on occasion to other trails in the city, in particular Whitemud Ravine, my primary stomping grounds are Mill Creek, and the various paths leading from Laurier to the Muttart. In every season, these places offer visual and auditory magnificence, and now, memories of these things. I miss the trees and creeks if I don’t visit them regularly. Also, my mind is much calmer than it used to be, and I think this has everything to do with the meditative aspects of being in the woods for some portion of every day. In winter, when walks are shorter, darker, and sometimes non-existent, my brain gets mushy and unfocused, like overdone rotini. Even worse, it will from time to time succumb to an all out funk if not taken out for regular walks. I think it’s safe to say my brain is like a Labrador Retriever. Or maybe a Weimaraner, since they’re grey.
The sparkles were lost in translation
Back to the trails…it was quite frosty today, but many people found a reason to be in the woods. Mostly dog reasons, although there were a few solitary walkers and one or two runners. I’ve noticed that the little dogs have now been replaced by the medium to large-size dogs. OK with me, they’re usually friendlier and will offer themselves up to a fondle quite readily. The snow was very sparkly in the sun, as was the grass poking through. Unfortunately, this is impossible to capture on film, but it was all rather dazzling. A great walk, in other words.
