Walking On The Snow In Early Spring

Wednesday afternoon. Sunny, thirties. Yesterday's few inches of new snow have melted away. I can see Medicine Bow Peak quite clearly now. Earlier Kennady Peak kept us company throughout the return phase of our morning walk up Forest Road 231. Quite the amazing view out this window in my little writer's nook -- Moose Crossing.

Although I returned with somewhat sore feet and a small pain in my lower sacroiliac I enjoyed the walk. The road is five feet deep in snow but hard-packed at the surface by snow mobile (stink machine) traffic and repeated freezing and thawing. For now we can walk upon it without snowshoes, despite the depth, which allows us fairly unencumbered access to the early spring solitude of the forest. We can (mostly) expect solitude because there aren't many snowmobilers interested in this route at this time of the year; we've encountered one group of five in the past five days. The result is an entrancing walk through a snowy wonderland where the only signs of company are the prints of squirrels, snowshoe rabbits, and the foxes hoping to make of them their next meal. The path isn't perfect. The surface gives slightly and is often slanted at odd angles depending on the angle the snowmobilers took on earlier visits. This, combined with the changeable texture of the snow at the surface requires us to be careful of our footing. There's just enough slipping and adaptation to grade to induce the aches and pains I mentioned above.

The slight discomfort is more than worth it. This trip, as I meandered along behind Suzy -- she is usually on point for these walks -- I found myself thinking over the latest harvest of quotes and ideas that have absorbed my writing of late. It occurred to me that there may be no finer luxury for someone like myself -- a dreaming idealist with a fondness for pondering questions great and small -- than a walk in beautiful surroundings with the mental company of some mighty fine thinkers. The fact that I have the time for both the walks and the research that gives access to the thoughts of so many wise individuals isn't lost on me. I know I'm lucky. With all the challenges of living on this ridge year round, there are compensations. The regular experience of beauty and solitude and the ability to celebrate and enhance that experience through thinking, reading and writing constitute a rare form of wealth.

I'll have to keep these thoughts in mind when the inevitable heavy snows of April descend. Maybe we'll be spared this year -- wishful thinking, I'm sure.