Peaceful Winter Day

This week has marked an abrupt change in our world. I took this photo on Monday morning, seeing the clouds gathering to the west that would change our world.

I knew that true winter would be here after those clouds arrived so I rode for a long time that day. A little later in the morning, Shyla and I glimpsed the Divide again. The storm was almost upon us. Indeed, I was out on the trails, just finishing my ride, when the snow and cold arrived.

By Tuesday morning, it was well below zero and our world was snow-covered. We've barely glimpsed the Divide since then, as one storm after another has hit us. Here is Shyla on the same trail as in the first photo but two days later.

We mountain bikers have a term called "shut down", meaning that many of the trails that we love will be completely impassable after winter storms start pummeling them. Without multiple people using them, the snow never gets packed down enough for a snow bike to negotiate them.

Every year, I struggle with a touch of depression after "shut down" because my world becomes smaller. I can ride my snow bike only on certain trails that get enough foot/bike traffic for the snow to become packed down. 

For some reason, today, that hint of depression was completely gone. It was frigid outside, and the temperature dropped throughout the day. A light snow fell almost continuously. And I felt utterly peaceful. The trail systems were deserted, and I was smiling happily as I pedaled through the accumulating snow. I felt like I was doing exactly what I wanted to be doing.

That steady snow had perfect flakes in it that showed up beautifully against Shyla's fur.

During my ride with Shyla, we played a lot.

No doubt - Shyla loves snow. It makes her zoom even faster than usual (turbo-powered by the tongue sticking out).

I adore how she keeps her eyes on me, even as she's negotiating tough terrain.

After my fun ride with Shyla, I decided to do a bit more, starting to establish my winter routes. If I consistently ride certain fairly remote routes, then I can usually keep them packed down well enough for my snowbike, at least until we get a really huge dump of snow all at once.

It was hard work but my happy and peaceful mood continued. I pedaled through the silent crystalline world to the sound of my own breathing and the crunching of the snow under my tires. Time seemed to stand still.

As I pedaled, I saw really big elk tracks, and I marveled at the ability of elk to live in our climate and find food even in the winter. I thought of this huge bull elk who has lived in our neck of the woods all year long. I haven't shown photos of him for his own safety, but it seems okay now because tomorrow is the end of the hunting seasons on public land.

I hope that he stayed in the well-hidden places far away from roads where I usually get photos of him. I'd love to have him living among us for another year.

Thanks to all of you for your kind comments yesterday. That particular migraine is gone. I'm hoping that my doctors can figure out how stop these crazy trains of migraines like the one I'm in these days.

Snow biking with Shyla and our elk herd

Our old friend, the wind, has returned, and Shyla's ears flapped in the "strong breeze" this morning.

I said recently that she didn't seem afraid of the wind. Well, I need to revise that. Something had her uneasy this morning at sunrise, and it might have been the wind. Here's another ear position. Based on her eyes, I didn't think that she looked thrilled with the cold wind.

We took a shorter than usual hike because it was a big day. It was the day that Shyla went snowbiking with me for the very first time. We went only a half mile, to test out her leg. To be honest, I don't think that snowbiking is any more stressful on her body than zooming in circles around me as I hike. Snowbiking is slow because it's so hard to propel huge tires through snow... and Shyla tends to follow the bike closely.

It was a great first ride, and her gait still looked perfect after it (no limp). We'll stick with very short rides for a while, as she continues to rebuild the strength in that bone. On the vet front, she does have one more x-ray ahead of her, to make sure that the unusual "lesion" that we've been following is continuing to resolve, like a fracture rather than something more insidious like an infection or cancer. I feel very confident that the x-ray will be fine because I can feel that the lump on her bone has shrunk to be a fraction of its original size.

This is my fifth winter of snowbiking on my Fatback snow bike with very wide tires (4").

Most places near us, the snow cover is much thicker than atop Hug Hill (photo above), where snow gets melted and blown away very fast. However, this is, by a huge measure, the best year for snowbiking so far. We had a couple of substantial storms before Christmas, and then we had beautiful weather over the holidays. Tons of people went out walking on the trails, packing them down beautifully for snow biking.

Today was the first day that I ventured very far on my bike since my pneumonia, and I found endless trails to ride. That is a very different situation from most years, when the majority of trails are blocked by huge snow drifts and are truly impassable in January.

I get to see our elk almost every day when I ride my snowbike but they're usually pretty far away from me. One of you asked about how the elk deal with fences. Fences seem to cause them some consternation. In the photo below, the majority of the herd was on the side of the fence closer to me. A few lagging elk were pacing along the fence line searching for a good place to cross it and regain the safety of the herd.

Here's the leading part of the herd, not looking back at the elk having trouble with the fence.

In the center of the photo below in the midst of the lagging elk, you can see that one of the bigger laggards was taking the leap over the barbed wire. As I watch them make these leaps, I imagine that the elk sustain quite a few barbed wire injuries while trying to get across fences. The fences seem toughest for the calves, who are so much smaller than the adults.

Today, the herd was even closer to my house. I used a very fancy lens and extender that a generous friend loaned me to take photos from more than a hundred yards away.

Some of the herd was resting, lounging in the snowy meadow. Magpies were fluttering around them, landing on their backs. This photo was from very very far away (and isn't in perfect focus) but you can see a magpie sitting on an elk's back. The elk didn't mind. It's a symbiotic relationship. The magpies eat the parasitic bugs that live in elk fur, which is an advantage to the birds and the elk!

It is so fun to be able to watch the elk throughout the winter! And, I am thrilled that, after months of patience, Shyla and I had our first snow bike ride together today!

Snow, mountain lion, and courage

Yesterday evening, a snow storm hit. K and I were out walking during the deluge of snow.

At almost the same time, a good distance away, a mountain lion walked among my trail cameras.

He was curious about the cams and looked at them closely.

He passed at least three of my cameras, one of which was shooting video. I'll compile the fascinating footage for a future post. I am so happy to have these big cats back in our forest after their winter hiatus.

This morning, K and I headed out for our ride, with me on my snow bike for the first time in more than a week. I had switched over to my summer bike last week.

K romped through the 6" of wet snow with incredible enthusiasm. This girl never ceases to amaze me. The "median survival time" after osteosarcoma goes to the lungs is not long, yet she is still running around joyfully.

She trotted over Hug Hill, with the mountains obscured behind the storm clouds.

As we descended from the peak, K ran parallel to me in the pine forest. As I watched her, she leaped up onto a big fallen tree about 3' off the ground. She touched it briefly with her paws and then gracefully leaped off onto the other side. Wow! She is still living with verve! Our girl is seizing each day!

On our descent, we stopped in a spot where I photographed K yesterday. Here she was yesterday, looking coppery in the green clearing. Both of us were a little hot in the sun yesterday.

Here she is in almost the same place today. It looked completely different, and I was getting cold as I photographed her.

Here's to the amazing courage of a mountain lion in a spring storm and of our K in the fight of her life.

Unexpected turn

The osteosarcoma road continues to hold unexpected turns. K's white blood cell count was too low for her to have chemotherapy today. That's a common side effect of chemotherapy drugs because the drugs kill bone marrow cells as well as cancer cells. Now, we have to wait for her bone marrow to make more white blood cells before she can have any more chemotherapy. We're hoping that her immune system will bounce back sufficiently that she can have chemo by the end of next week.

Her low WBC count and the delay will hopefully not turn into a big deal. The vets might reduce her dose next time or change her chemo schedule to allow more time for her bone marrow to regenerate between doses. I always hate changes to "the plan" but, in this case, we have to roll with the punches that are inevitable with cancer and its treatment.

This morning, our nominee for "Cracker Critter", R, joined me for a sizzling bike ride.

I tried to take some close-up photos of his handsome face but he kept barking at my camera lens.

Seriously, the boy barked and barked and barked. And, by barking in my face, he made me laugh - which was good medicine for my soul.

Check out his ears during this bark. He's a wonderfully crazy dog!

In between barks, he found sticks and sprinted through the snow while carrying them.

His joyous spirit was infectious, filling the world with glitter.

As you can see, a morning outing with R is quite different from one with K. R is a black bolt of lightning, zig-zagging through the snow, and bringing a big smile to my face with his exuberance.

In contrast to my morning outing with R, K and I went for a very peaceful walk this evening. She loves her "working stiff job" of being my photo model and naturally posed on a rock while we lingered near a lookout point. Thanks to all of you who voted for K in the Working Stiffs competition of Mango Minster. We were so surprised that she did so well!

She looks strong to me!

Rage, sadness, hope...

The furious wind storm that has gone on for days has almost stripped the exposed meadows of snow. I think that the snow must have landed someplace thousands of miles east of us based on the fury of the wind. Perhaps it has landed on some of you who have a dearth of snow this year!

The atmospheric snowblower has made snowbiking easier in some places. Today, I headed out on my snow bike, feeling a rage in my heart about K's cancer that propelled me through the intense wind. The first part of my winter rides usually involves riding on a road to a trail network that's miles west of my house. For this part, I ride directly into the wind, and I revel in defying its strength.

Since hearing K's prognosis, it feels as if I've started the grief process but I keep going around in circles. Rage, helplessness, hope, peace, pure sadness, and then joy for another day with her - all of these raw emotions can churn through me in a random order and in rapid succession. I find that riding my snow bike helps calm my soul, both as an outlet for my searing anger and as a meditation that quiets my mind. Riding my bike on snowy trails helped me get past the volcanic rage that consumed me when I woke up today.

This afternoon, my rage had flickered out, and the Duo and I were in a high meadow for a peaceful sunset. I rejoiced in seeing their fur glow as the sun dipped below the Continental Divide. My legs were tired from my snow bike ride but my heart was happy to see the Duo together.

And then the sun set on another day in our journey. K had a happy day, and that's what matters most.

An alien blue-skied world

Yesterday afternoon, old man winter decided to take hold of our world again. Rather than a sunset hike, we had a snowy hike.

I let the Labraduo run with abandon for our shorter-than-usual jaunt.

Overnight, a thin coating of snow and hoar frost transformed the world.

I recently pointed a wildlife camera at a freshly scraped spot that has bobcat scat on it. I've learned over the past year that a bobcat scent post is likely to be an important site for many species. This morning, a coyote visited it. She trotted briskly straight toward my camera and almost missed the scent post. She screeched to a halt, turning her head toward the territorial marking by the bobcat. Her movements were so swift that she was blurred in the photo.

She sniffed it with her elegantly long nose.

Then, she hit the "comment" button.

As if she knew that she'd just been photographed in a compromising position, the coyote assumed a statuesque and noble pose, gazing into the distance. I know that many people don't like coyotes but I think that she's beautiful.

At around the same time, K and I were in a different part of the fog-enshrouded and frosty world on a snowbike ride.

Look at the sparkle in K's eyes! She didn't mind the weather in the least.

The foggy world seemed so black and white, without vivid colors that my eyes started seeking them. I noticed brilliant orange lichen with a hoar frost coated grass stalk in front of it. That sight took the drabness out of the morning!

Just before we arrived home, K heard something in the distance and climbed on a boulder to survey, just like her coyote cousins like to do.

When I dropped K off at home, I donned an extra layer of clothing and packed yet another layer into my backpack. It felt like the type of damp and cold (15°F) day that can lead to hypothermia very fast.

The world near my house was so foggy that I could see less than 50 yards. So, I wore a florescent jacket as my outer layer. I slogged up the road toward the Continental Divide, and within ten minutes, the world was crystal clear. The hoar frost on the aspen skeletons sparkled in the sunlight with an azure sky as the background.

 

As I crested a hill, I saw the Divide. It still had a few clouds floating over it but nothing like a few moments earlier.

I hit my favorite snowbiking trails and hammered along in a few inches of fresh snow - a trail to heaven!

I noticed the pine trees glittering and examined them more closely. I saw icicles sparkling in the sunlight! Each icicle had a mirage of a tiny pine tree at its core.

By this point, the intense sunshine was boiling me inside my many layers of clothing. I stopped to take off a layer, my neck gaiter, and hat before beginning the ride toward home.

To my utter disbelief, within minutes of starting to pedal toward home, I felt daggers of frigid air and ice pellets attacking me. The storm front was invading our world again. The clouds oozed inexorably from left to right in the photo below.

I arrived home in the midst of pogonip (my favorite word for icy fog), feeling like I'd visited an alien blue-skied planet during my ride. I wondered if I'd hallucinated the clear blue skies! But, the photos proved it - they were real.

While I was gone, my wildlife camera on the driveway took the most intriguing photo. Any guesses? I don't know the answer but it could be scary.

Several of you asked why the wild animals use our driveway so much. There's no pot of gold at the top of it. I suspect they like the cleared surface for walking much more than the surrounding snowy and icy landscape. The bobcat seems to use the small paths around our property in the non-snowy months and the driveway in the winter. I'm glad that we can make his life a little easier!