I’ve been cooped up more than usual this winter; partly because I’m being extra cautious with my health. Finally, I decided to take a very simple, low key, short walk. However, I suck at “taking it easy”.
The first challenge was the dog. The dog needed a walk just as much as I did but she’s never mastered the challenge of getting into my tall truck and Mrs. Curmudgeon’s car was out of town. I rigged up a hand built three step “stair”. I put this next to my truck’s rear door and coaxed the reluctant dog up them. Once there, the dog was in heaven!
The truck’s back seat folds flat for cargo. Much more comfy than the large dog trying to fit on a human shaped rear bench seat in Mrs. Curmudgeon’s Honda. The dog has ridden thousands of miles in the Honda but never in the truck. She was absolutely blissful.
The road by our house is totally windswept. It’s packed, rock hard, ice, but easy walking. I planned a place that would have an equally windswept paved bicycle trail. I didn’t bring heavy boots. This was supposed to be, literally, a walk in the park.
On the way there, I passed a snowmobile trail groomer.
I also passed an Amish (?) buggy. I prefer to see a one horse open sleigh but they’re much less common than a one horse wheeled buggy. I wasn’t fast enough to get a photo.
My idea that the paved bike trails would be clear-ish was completely wrong. The bike trail had more snow than the nearby snowmobile trail!
I wasn’t equipped for deep snow. In fact, I usually roam nature “loaded for bear” but I’d specifically brought much less stuff. I wanted to stick with a short easy walk. I reverted to wandering down a plowed road. The dog looked at me like “are you sure you know what you’re doing”?
It was much colder than I expected and I wasn’t wearing good boots or carrying my SatCom. But it’s just a road right?
I know the road I was on pretty well. It led to a lake I know well too. I figured there would be some activity on the lake and I guessed right. I navigated right to the opening of an ice road. (Look in the photo above and you’ll see a truck on the left side.)
I reasoned that the ice would be windswept, meaning I wouldn’t be slogging through three feet of snow. I was correct. The ice road was easy walking.
I wasn’t carrying my safety ice picks. I hadn’t brought my Yaktrax. I should know better than to leave home without such things. But any ice that can hold a truck can hold a dog and it’s dumbass.
The wind was harsh out there. I wasn’t worried but at some point you have to accept that a frozen lake is a pretty hard core location.
The dog gave me the look, as if to say “See here man, you said this was going to be a walk in the park! Why does a winter jaunt with you turn into Robert Peary’s expedition?” She’s a tough breed but individually she’s a sweet fluffy creampuff. Plus, I knew her feet were fine on land but I wasn’t sure if her paws would get cold in the much harsher lake. (My feet were freezing.)
I turned around. I’m not good at that whole “walk in the park” thing.
Even so, an ice road has fun stuff happening. People drive out there with trucks towing ice shacks. One rolled past us; probably wondering why the hell we were there. Wheeled ice shacks have special axles that allow the wheels to raise. The whole shack will squat on the ice; thus fishermen can drill a hole in the ice from inside and drink beer in warm comfort.
More aggressive (or broke) ice fishermen use fabric shelters and tents; bringing them to select spots with ATVs, snowmobiles, or on foot. There were no such maniacs out in the conditions that day. When you’re out where snowmobile based fishermen aren’t; that’s what you call “a clue”.
I got to watch an interesting situation. There’s specific kind of ice shack that’s smaller than the road worthy wheeled version. They ride on skis. I’ve never seen how they’re deployed.
While I was trudging back in the bitter winds, a truck pulled onto the ice with a car hauling trailer. On the car hauling trailer was a ski based shed. A second truck was traveling in convoy. The two men coordinated as only men on a mission can.
The first truck stopped and the second truck positioned right behind his trailer. Two guys hopped out. This wasn’t their first rodeo. One man deployed the gate to the trailer while the other untied the shed. Then they used the second truck to drag the ski shed off the trailer. The first truck and it’s car trailer zoomed for shore to park on solid land. The second truck followed to pick up the driver.
As I hiked close to the abandoned ski based shack, the dog decided this was total bullshit. There are not supposed to be buildings on ice! We’d walked that way not ten minutes ago and there were no buildings, now there’s a building? Not cool man!
The dog growled menacingly at the aluminum and wood structure… which didn’t growl back. Hackles raised, my dog bravely defended me against the menace.
Soon, the second of the trucks returned. The fishermen had “car pooled” to the ski shed. They hopped out and went straight to work. In a flash they’d hitched the ski shed and were dragging it down the ice road. I’d never seen a ski shed pulled by a truck. Pretty slick operation done by two guys with absolute precision. They’d be cracking a beer and looking at a hole in the ice before I got back to my truck.
Soon, my “low key” hike was over. I was pretty chilled. I need to plan better.
I gave the dog half of my bottle of water, which it ignored. Such a waste of store bought water! Then she hopped in the truck like an old hand at such things. While I stowed the “portable stairs” she sniffed the air with the happiest look any dog could ever have.
We must have gotten some exercise. At home the dog conked out so deeply that it allowed the new kitten to use it for a pillow.
So that’s what “a mellow hike in the park” is when I do it.
A.C.