Flight 

Lesson Learned

One of my favorite times of the year is  midwinter when I can get home from work just in time to make a lap around our ski trail before it gets dark.  The middle of January is pushing it but a good headlamp with fresh batteries is all that is needed to make the final descent into the homestead at dusk. 

The first half of the trail is modest climb. On this particular day I was feeling strong and a bit overconfident. I had just returned from a backcountry ski trip and had been laying down a respectable number of trail miles all winter.  Either way you look at it I was plowing down this trail and clearly more focused on the trail one mile ahead than what was below my skis. 

I scurried up the initial ascent at an unprecedented pace. I kicked hard knowing that my next move was the first and one of the few technical sections. Carrying built inertia I leap into the steep hill with skis spread in order to dig the edges into the packed trail and provide the traction to defy gravity.  My overzealous herringbone was abruptly interrupted when my left ski caught a tree.  My legs stopped.  I was instantly starring straight down. My torso continued it's inevitable faceplant when a muted gray object in the trail caught my eye.  Woven with deer fur my mind quickly recognized it. My face was heading straight for wolf scat!  A shot of adrenalin miraculously relayed the unpleasant outcome to my hands just in time for me to catch myself. My face was mear inches from the steaming pile of poop.  I was close enough to smell the putred half digested deer kill. 

Shaking the snow off I pulled myself back together and laughed at the lesson I just learned:  overconfidence only leaves one faced with shit for outcomes!

My pace slowed and I finished the trail under a gorgeous bright full moon. 

January sun along the trail. 

Long, low angles of disappearing light. Prolonged cold air settles the trail to a glacier creep.  A stiff breeze rattles the naked hardwoods and leaves them clanging out the only sound I hear during this frozen foray through the backcountry. 

Symmetrical snow etches 

Basic Malfunction

Another sub zero day.  Wary of the vast cold Lake Superior; thousand foot freighters gingerly plow through the churning water within site of the shore.  Steam from the relatively warm water condensates into the air.  Winds funnels the vapor and whip it into tornadic steam spouts that twist their way across the frigid expanse of the largest lake in the world.  Simultaneously (and yet in complete contrast) this same vapor reflects the yellow, green and orange sunlight rays of sun dogs that dance across the frozen sky.  Today, much like most in the past month, the thermometer won't reach zero.  Tonight the temperature will plunge deep into the twenties below.  Wind will make the air feel like forty below- cold enough to freeze uncovered flesh in minutes.  Forecasts are predicting the coldest air in decades to hover over much of North America for the next week.  Wind chills will most likely reach a dangerous 60 below zero! 

Nothing wants to work in this weather.  As a result the homestead and it's inhabitants are in a state of basic malfunction.  The cold has frost heaved the patio up to the sill of the front door.  Every opening is a struggle to lift and push the door to an acceptable width in order to accommodate the poor soul and their baggage who is hoping for passage.  All this effort just to step into air that makes the vapor in your lungs instantly freeze and leave you coughing.  A slow leak in the truck tire has been exacerbated into a flat.  The old battery looses it's charge overnight.  The valve on the main shaft of the air compressor contracted into a substandard seal and it now simply blows air into the air.  Fortunately the snow blower putters to life.  A critical point due to the fact that we have already received as much snow as a typical winter!  Any water pipe that is less than perfectly insulated freezes nightly.  Worst of all: for some reason the well pump isn't getting power and thus leaves us without running water.  On top of that we are all sick with a respiratory virus and struggling to keep the wood stove stoked -not to mention clearing the driveway of the ten inches of snow that fell last night! 

It all goes to show that life is not always glamorous on the homestead.  With that said, however, there is nothing like hearing wolves howl under a northern light draped sky.  Or strapping on a pair of skis at your door, breaking an empty trail through some of the most beautiful, rugged, remote terrain in the lower 48.  The reality is that this has begun as a particularly brutal winter.  It's a winter that makes northerners "earn their stripes".  It reminds us how fortunate we are when we're healthy, have working equipment and a warm shower.  As difficult as these times can be they're essential...