A new walking trail

Older Daughter has been slowly learning what kinds of walking trails are in the region. Now that her busy season is over, we all decided to celebrate by taking a nice walk in the woods.

We brought Darcy, of course. I made sure to walk him before we left so he could, well, do his doo-doo duty ahead of time. When he learned he was going with us on this adventure, he was thrilled.

In fact, he was so thrilled that he barely made it out of the car before making another huge pile, despite having done so earlier. Oh well, at least this meant we could leave it next to the car instead of toting it with us through the woods.

The trail was largely flat and easy, formed in a loop a bit over a mile in length. There were additional trails, but dogs weren't permitted on them, so we contented ourselves by looping twice.

We saw lots and lots of mushrooms ... so many, in fact, that I'll make a separate post on them.

This photo came out blurry because I was walking (instead of standing still) when I took it. Still, I think it's kinda artistic. Very impressionistic, no?

A chickaree with its mouth full chattered angrily at us as we passed.

It was simply a beautiful path, sun-dappled and deeply forested.

A tree draped in lichen.

Darcy was in his element.

We saw this bunch grass everywhere.

Many had the dried remains of a tall flowering stalk. Anyone know what kind of grass this is?

A large tree that came down, splintered dramatically at its base.

Beautiful forest scene.

The larches are just starting to turn yellow.

Evidently this trail is widely used by horse riders.

Darcy got himself a good drink before we got back into the car.

A very satisfying morning's amble.

Definitely a place to explore some more.

Hiking

During Younger Daughter's visit with us, we've been trying to show her some of the beauties of the area, since this is the first time she's seen our new (to us) home. We decided to take a family hike to the same spot Don and I went to a couple years ago.

Unfortunately the only day all four of us had free for this hike followed a night of dramatic thunderstorms and heavy rain. In driving to the trail head, we had to dodge a few spots where rocks had been loosened by the rain and tumbled onto the highway (one boulder was about three feet across, smack in the lane; later we saw a highway crew truck on its way to clear it away). Still, everything was lush and green.

The river was quite high and very lively.

The lichens hanging off the trees had been revived by the rain.

Mr. Darcy, needless to say, was in his element.

We all did a lot of huffing and puffing to get up that first extremely steep and muddy half-mile until we emerged onto a saddle at the crest.

Way, way below us was a tributary creek, roaring from the rain of the night before.

After catching our breath, we set off on a trail that followed the contour of a very steep slope.

It was while on this very precarious slope that we met – I kid you not – a mule train consisting of a man riding the lead animal with three mules following behind. I was in front holding Darcy's leash, so I stopped him and asked for a few moments to find a place to get off the trail. He asked us to get off-trail on the downhill side; that way if one or more of the mules spooked, they would spook uphill and not tumble down the slope.

Well, let me tell you, it took us a while to find a spot we could cling to without tumbling to the bottom of the ravine. I would have taken a photo, but I was too busy hanging onto Darcy's leash lest he lunge for the mules, while Younger Daughter actually clamped her hands over his muzzle for extra security.

The rider was a cheerful fellow in his 40s who said he was packing out from a distant cabin, and thanked us profusely for accommodating him. He also mentioned he would be returning within about an hour and a half.

Here are some of the mule prints in the mud.

Darcy found the Ultimate Mud Puddle and managed to saturate his entire lower body. Well, why not.

We saw some gigantic trees. This towering giant was far enough away that its sheer size was hard to appreciate, but it was huge.

We hiked a couple miles in, then turned around. We wanted to give ourselves enough time to get down the mountain before the mule train came back up.

Younger Daughter took the lead with Darcy on the return trip, so I was able to take a few photos.

The arrow-leaf balsam root was especially beautiful. These are big showy flowers that thrive on thin soil on south-facing slopes. They always bloom in May and early June around here.

Let me tell you, Darcy thoroughly enjoyed himself.

It's impossible to underscore how steep the slopes were down to the tributary creek. I understand the mule train driver's concerns about his animals spooking on the downhill side.

I don't know if you can make it out, but just about dead-center of the photograph you can see a patch of the road we drove in on. (Bad grammar there, sorry.)

We reached the saddle and started on the muddy and treacherous descent to where we'd parked the car. Don followed in the rear, keeping Darcy on a tight lead so no one got pushed over on the slippery mud.

It was a fun – if muddy – morning's hike, and we all had a good time. But it does make me wonder: Just where is that cabin from which the mule train driver was coming? Asking for a friend.....

Walking

We enjoy walking. In our last home, it was a nice solid three-mile round trip walk to the mailboxes, and I miss that. Here in our new place, even though we're farther out, there are fewer places to walk. Go figure.

The problem is exacerbated by dogs. We're kinda hemmed in by some scattered neighbors whose dogs are not yarded (if you know what I mean), and it makes for some exciting encounters on the road whenever we have Mr. Darcy with us.

So Don and I got on Google Earth and started tracing road paths from dog to dog ('scuse me, from boundary to boundary) measured from our house, to figure out how many times we'd have to cover the same ground to achieve a nice solid three mile walk.

Once that was determined, we began incorporating afternoon walks into our daily repertoire, especially now that the snow is releasing and walking no longer requires cleats on our boots. (Walking three miles in cleats would be exhausting.)

Walking allows us to observe our environment far more acutely, both the large and the small components. Here's some of the things we've seen.

Deer tracks across a north-facing slope.

A solitary deer in a field.

Further away, three others watched.

The doe moved to join her companions...

...then the whole group moved to a safer distance.

The snow is retreating from this outcrop of rocks.

A freshly dozed section of road from an industrious neighbor working to fix potholes.

A dead grass head from last summer. Soon enough we'll have multitudes of fresh green grass.

A large tuft of soft underfeathers caught on some barbed wire. There were also feathers on the ground beneath. Trying to interpret what happened, it almost seems like an owl caught some feathers on the fencing while dive-bombing a rodent. Hard to say, but these feathers have the look of an owl's downy feathers adapted for silent flight. Just a guess.

Elk hoof print.

A cheeky magpie.

Late afternoon sun through some ridgeline trees.

Sun on a mossy embankment.

The moss's new growth glistened so brightly, it was almost fluorescent.

Turkeys. Heavens, we've been seeing turkeys. Enormous flocks of them.

My scarf, which I snagged on a convenient branch when I got too warm. I'm famous for shedding clothing as I walk. Our old neighbors used to be able to monitor my progress by keeping track of what outer clothing I'd shucked off and hung on fence posts and bushes.

A neighbor's small stock pond, still frozen because it's tucked in a shadowy north-facing draw.

Pheasants. We're starting to see more of them.They're skittish birds and hard to photograph (especially while walking an upland bird dog on a leash.)

An old wasp nest on a neighbor's mailbox. Must have been exciting when it was active.

A mere fraction of a neighbor's chicken population, which she describes as "too many."

And one escapee.

Some fog wisping through the hills after a slushy day.

Yes, walking is the best possible way to observe the world around us, in my opinion.