Parking lot is full, cars spilling out onto the road. I cram myself into a group to study the billboard map. A woman asks about us, I tell her, her response is that after two weeks 'stuck' with the dogs she'd be ready to go back to work and leave them at home. What she doesn't realize is that they come to work with me and that I cherish my 24/7 time with them. The real crucible is when I do leave them behind, when they can't all climb aboard the tractor with me or come to the gym.
Before I can snarl at her, a man casually says that this heat wave will have the grizzlies confused into coming out of hibernation. What??? That's one of the reasons I'm here in the Winter--- I don't want to see a bear. Stressful enough to know there are mountain lions everywhere!
It's OK, I had my bear spray already packed for this trip, along with the kitchen sink.
Not to mention another little friend. If anything is going to get to my dogs, it's going to be over my dead body.
We leave that trailhead with its group of negative people and settle in by ourselves at Silver Run trailhead.
5 mile loop trail. Perfect.
Cole in his long johns.
The shod trio.
The silence is palpable. Zero noise but the wind. I can't hear anyone for miles, I unhook the crew.
This is where Cole and Garrett get themselves in trouble. We had been trotting at a slow pace. Now they're galloping, ignorant that 4.5 miles still lay ahead!
Gradually, they shed every bit of clothing and the pack mule stuffs it all in her backpack.
I bet Cole ran every bit of 15 miles.
Garrett 10 miles
Pete 6.
Me : 5! First sustained run in 3 months. I'd been doing Indian running for a few weeks ( 200 yards running, 200 walking), but thanks to the thought planted in my mind about grizzlies, I never stopped running, except for photo ops.
I can hear the soundtrack of Chariots of Fire as I run so slowly, never getting out of 2nd gear. But, I'm running! Pain free. I love my 6 million dollar knee. Thank you Dr Jacobson !
Who can resist a Christmas tree a mile up a trail?
Cole bags another state!
The usual assortment of war wounds after a good run.
Surprisingly, I'm fine after running with a 15 pound pack in my Sorrels.
These are Sorrels, Canada's better version of LL Bean muck boots. Mine are 35 years old, thank you very much. See the laces Cole chewed up as a puppy? I'm going totally retro on this trip. All my gear is at least 25 years old. My snowshoes take the prize, they're over 70 years old. No aluminium jobbies for me, birch and caribou sinews all the way!
The dogs take in a recuperation nap at lunch, then we're back out! I try West Fork trailhead again. Only one car this time, but my Spidey sense are tingling. Two young men are sitting in an older model Chevy Blazer.
I have my Club, but I don't relish the thought of driving to Seattle with Duck tape over a busted window. I can't help it, I change into Sigourney Weaver from the Aliens movie.
I can see the driver rolling a joint, so I stomp up right behind his car and write the number of his expired temporary tag in my hand (last number scribbled out to protect the obviously non innocent). Then I walk around to the passenger side and see they both have beer cans between their legs. Perhaps it's my demented look of middle aged madness, but they choose to leave while I finish harnessing up the dogs. Huh, go figure.
Suits us, we get the place to ourselves, again!
The trail is really a snowed over closed road.
Perfect for this tired bunch.
On a good note, Pete isn't wandering off trying to scale up any ridges, he's glued to my side. Small blessings!
