Three Bambis--one human, two not

We had another thin dusting of snow last night, and since I was up early to take my kids to chamber orchestra practice, I decided to drive across the river to Moorhead to see how the MB Johnson trails weathered the melt after last week's ski. I pulled into the parking lot just as the last light in the parking area went off. It still felt dark, though, because of the cloudy morning. Although it was 18 above, it was windy, and I hesitated to leave my warm car.

But I did.

And it did not look promising. There was no indication of where the rolled trail had been. The melt had exposed grass in some areas and re-frozen to sheer ice in others and the new snow had been ruthlessly blown away. I probably looked like Bambi, awkwardly skiing across this expanse, trying to keep upright and move forward at the same time.

First light this morning

Things improved when I turned the corner at the northeast corner of the park, though. I skidded over the ice, almost biting it as I tried to turn, and then I hit the drift of snow as the trail descended down into a ravine. Bouffle! (an expression my kids have been repeating lately when they mime knocking something over). The onomatopoeic quality of the word well describes that awkward turn.

And then, what a difference! Protected from the sun, this part of the trail did not have ice and protected from the wind, it had held on to the new snow, so it was quite pleasant, and not so deep that the new snow grabbed at the tips of my skis. Still, it could use a pass with the groomer. For now, though, I enjoyed being the first human since last night's snow. I saw fresh deer tracks and wondered whether I would get to see the deer. I kept glancing up in the direction the tracks were heading, but no luck. The tracks could not be that old, though. Just as I was making the turn southward, I caught their movement out of the corner of my eye in time to see their two white tails disappearing northward.

I got into a pleasant skating rhythm through the woods, and then I saw more tracks--a fox? No, human prints joined them, so it must be a guy walking his dog. Big feet. Soon, I saw the man in the yellow coat, hollered out an "on your right." Unfortunately, I must have startled him, because he jumped a bit. I was worried about coming up on him from behind with his loose dog further in front, because if the dog looked back, he might think I was going to attack his owner, like that yellow lab did on the trails by my home. But the dog was relaxed, and I skied by, up the hill and into the south field. This field was not as barren of snow as the north field, so it was quite pleasant, though parts were too deep and I did catch my tips in the snow. This part definitely needs to be groomed.

Heading up the field, I began to feel weak. I should have had some protein in my breakfast. My piece of toast was burned off, and I felt shaky. Just one loop this morning--at least I will be on time for work today.

The new trailhead map at MB Johnson Park

As I left the parking lot, more snow began to fall. "Keep going," I urged in my mind. Just a bit more snow and the skiing will be so much better. I'm tired of using my rock skis. They are from an era of my life when I weighed 30 pounds less than I do now and they don't feel as good as my newer skis--not as secure and straight, if that makes any sense. I probably plow out on them because the camber is not right for my current weight.