Coldest Ski of the Winter . -32F

I know winter is not over, but I'm going to call it and say that today's ski was the coldest of the winter (for me, anyway). It was -32F according to weather underground. And no wind! The sky was clear, and a crescent moon hung in the sky. The sun was coming up, so I quickly dressed--maybe I would be able to take some good photos today, I thought, grabbing my sister-in-law's canon with the long lens in addition to my iphone. Of course, they would probably not last long in this temperature, so I made it a priority to start taking photos soon after heading out. I skied north--downstream--and then made my own trail after the nice Fargo Parks-groomed trail ended at the dog park. I wanted to see if the Red River was still running toward Canada. Indeed, there was still some open water at the dike.

The nice thing about the Canon is that I can take photos without taking off my gloves, which is great. I took several photos around the river before heading back south along the trail. Some parts were drifted over since yesterday, but not too badly. The wind in Fargo was not as bad as I thought it might be, though it still made some interesting patterns in the snow, especially at this one part, where black bits of grit mixed with the snow, giving a salt and pepper appearance to the pattern.

I wonder if the footprints belong to the red fox I saw around here earlier this season? After about 45 minutes, both cameras quit working and my feet were cold, so I put my energy into skiing without stopping. After I passed the water treatment plant, I was facing the sun directly and it was higher in the sky, and I could feel the warmth on what little parts of my face were still exposed to the frigid air.

I saw where a deer had crossed the river and come up to the ski trail to walk and nibble on the willows along the riverbank. I think the deer and the fox are the only creatures who have been out here since yesterday.

I stopped at the second bike path crossing to take off my ski and swing my leg to warm up my feet. I also skied hard enough to get my hear rate up to 170. That did the trick--the blood started flowing to my feet and I decided to go further. The curve around Ponte Park was pretty drifted, and the snow was hard, so it's not like I could break a trail through it, so I just skied on top of the drifts. As I got into Lindenwood Park, my feet were getting cold again so I turned back. I was out for an hour and 15 minutes total--a pleasant way to start my day. When I got home, my husband was headed out the door for his ski.
"Coffee is all ready to go for Denise," he said, as he headed out the door.  Our friend, Denise, is staying with us. She just got back from Florida, so this weather is a shock to her!