Some sort of big deal I gather, by the Sunday crowd at the Pub when I drove down the hill.
In other news, it was perfect on Larch Mountain tonight. A car was at the river trail, so the dogs and I went to our Milepost 4 trail gate. Six miles further up, the road is closed for snow, but at that (relatively) lower elevation, it was perfect hiking temperature and, bless the slightly lengthening days, light enough at 4:30 that I almost forgot the flashlight.
Great hike in. We hadn’t been there in several months, so the dogs were both excited, and yet not so much in their element that they would go on a run without me. We got down to the creek, and the bridge that was already altered into a deep V by a large tree falling on it, had been pushed in by another log pummeling it from upcreek in high water and now had water running over the low middle of it, and the surface was moss-slicked. After watching Ebb slipslide across, and King and Max decline to follow down the steep near side and up the steep far side, we came to a collective decision to skip the far side trail (Ebb didn’t concur, already being over and not being enthusiastic about crossing immediately back, but he was overruled).
Hiking back out, the forest went aggressively quiet. It took me a few minutes to notice, and I don’t know what was there before that was different. But, some days, the stillness finds you.