A nice day to zip around on a bike

I woke up shortly after six this morning to the sound of birds starting to sing outside my window. It finally feels like spring time.  The snow is pretty much melted, and I'm back from my travels, so I pumped up the tires on my MB-0 (zip) to bike to work today. Although I'm slow and sluggish, my bike was quick, so it was a fun ride. 

A very wintry 30 days of biking

Well, I'm failing at #30daysofbiking, after just a few days. I had to go up to Turtle Mountains for a  for work, and found that my bike would not fit in my state fleet vehicle, so I just gave up and went for walks. When I got back to town, it was cold and snowy, so I went to the YMCA and biked indoors. Yesterday, I finally got back outside on my fatbike for a loop around Fargo-Moorhead after work, checking out the Gooseberry trails along the way. I saw this neat little shelter someone had built and it reminded me of how my sister and I once built a shelter out of driftwood out near Delta Junction up in Alaska. Whenever we returned to that campground, we would check to see if it was still standing. 

Biked to the Bison on a Snowy Day

You've heard of "the agony of defeat," but have you heard of the agony of de seat? That's what I was feeling on the second day of #30daysofbiking, but I was glad to be using my bike to get to work at North Dakota State University on a snowy morning. I parked my fatbike in the rack by the Bison sculpture, whose posture suggests he is trudging on through a storm--inspiration for the ride home. 

Day 1 of 30 Days of Biking

Although it is still below freezing, and we still have plenty of snow, I chose to bike instead of skiing  because #30daysofbiking begins today. I dragged my fat tire bike out of the basement, pumped up the tires, put on a helmet, and set out. Little did I know I was about to play a little "April Fools" joke on myself.

It was nice to have that blank canvas experience with the bike--I was really surprised that no biker, let alone pedestrian, had been on the sidewalk leading up to the water treatment plant. I rode over and followed the bike path to the bridge that connects Lindenwood Park (in Fargo) with Gooseberry Park (in Moorhead). From there, I had access to the single track trails in the woods by the river. The new snow from our two consecutive snowstorms made me glad I was on a fat tire bike, but was not too challenging.

Nevertheless, I noticed that my balance was not the greatest. This could be because 1) I was never a very good technical rider, even when I used to race 2) I have not been on a bike in a long while, and/or 3) This fat tire bike handles differently than the Bridgestone MB-zip that I've spent more time on. Little did I know that it was actually #4 (which I didn't figure out until I had headed home). Anyway, I had fun rediscovering how to ride on snow and not grip the handlebars so tightly. Although some dog walkers had widened the trail, there were a few sections with just the bike tires to follow. I felt wobbly, but did OK following them, until I just spun out, lost control of my bike, and almost hit a tree.

Oops!

I decided to turn back at that point, also because I knew I would have a very sore rear end tomorrow anyway. As I was riding home, I suddenly realized that I had forgotten to put in my contacts after my nap and left my glasses by my bed. I was so excited to wear my sunglasses that I forgot that they are not a prescription pair, so basically, I had been doing this whole ride without being able to see well (#4). Nice little April Fools joke on myself. Getting older comes with free entertainment.

I'm smiling, but I can't really see anything.

More new snow for a March 31st Spring Ski, with Fox!

Big fat flakes were coming down last night when Enrico picked me up after my 90-minute massage. When we got home, I went directly to bed, had a long, deep sleep, and woke up to several more inches of new, fluffy snow!

The clouds had cleared, the snow was shining, so I geared up for a spring ski. The remaining kick wax on my Kneissl classic skis was a perfect match for this morning's cool conditions. Like yesterday, my eyes drank in the unbroken canvas of new snow, sparkling in the sun. I couldn't even tell where yesterday's trail was, so I began breaking a completely new trail.

The blank slate of snow left by last night's storm

After a few minutes, I saw I was not alone--a red fox was running across the river. When it arrived in the shadows at the opposite bank, it paused to look at me for a few seconds before darting into the woods. I skied up to the point at which its tracks led across the river and took the photo below. I followed its tracks in reverse order to see where it had been. I could see that just before making a beeline across the river, he had been meandering around where the pipes from the water treatment plant join the river, and I could see he had slipped and kicked up some slush where the river was not quite frozen.

The fox's tracks crossing the Red River to the Moorhead side.

As I continued on my way, I kept seeing that fox's trail. He must have been hunkered down during the storm last night, and so was active this morning. For awhile, his track ran parallel to my ski trail, and in a more protected part of the trail, I could see the faint indentations of my track from yesterday.

Fox on the left, human on the right

When I got near Lindenwood Park, I came to the open water where I saw the geese yesterday. They were not there today, and I could see that the river had risen since then. Because the Red River flows north, upriver is south, where it is warmer, so the spring "break-up" is quite dynamic, though the signs are subtle right now. Something not so subtle, however, was that some water had flowed over the banks and seeped under the ski trail, and I had an unpleasant breakthrough where I got my skis wet.

This is where the fox first came over to the Fargo side from Moorhead.

I tried continuing on, but it felt as if someone had attached lead weights to my skis, so I had to stop and deal with the issue. But first, I had to pee, so I stopped by a big tree and relieved myself. Using the tree for balance, I took off one ski and used the basket of my pole to scrape all the ice off the bottom. I tapped my boot on the tree to get the snow off before stepping back in my binding. Then I took off my other ski and repeated the scraping. When I continued on, this seemed to have solved the problem, though I would not be breaking any speed records today. As I continued, I watched carefully for other signs that there might be some water under the snow.

When I got near the campground at Lindenwood Park, I saw more geese and a pair of ducks hanging out in the open water. A lot of water had seeped under the ski trail, so I veered upland near the camp ground to avoid it. This spot is always very sunny, so I stopped and watched the geese for awhile, before heading uphill. I decided to ski across the field rather than along the river--a decision with unpleasant consequences, as the wind was roaring across the open field and hitting me head on, sucking all the warmth from my body. I regretted choosing to wear only a headband today instead of a hat.

After making a dash for the woods again, I got to put in a little telemark turn on the hill descending back down to the river bottom--fun! Once I was down there, I had to bushwhack a bit to get back over to the trail, but I didn't want to rejoin it until after the wet spots I'd encountered on my way out. I picked up a few burrs and got slapped by a few branches, but I didn't care, as I was happy to be out of the wind again.

As I got near the ski trail, I saw a skier coming toward me. Could it be? Yes, it was my husband. He had his head down, concentrating on striding along at a good pace. I decided to have some fun with him. I hid behind a tree, and when he got close to me, I whistled at him.

No response, I whistled again, louder, still no response. "Hey, good lookin'," I shouted.
Still no response. I guess he doesn't tolerate sexual harassment from his spouse.
It was then I realized that he had headphones on and he had passed me and was moving at a good pace, so if I wanted to say hi, I had to disentangle myself from the brush quickly and hop into his tracks and sprint to catch up, which I did. I then skied right up next to him. When he finally saw me, he was appropriately startled, having been deep into listening to his jams--Deep Purple, Dire Straits, and Meatloaf.

We chatted for a little while. He told me he wasn't even sure I had come this way, as my track got completely filled in by the wind-driven snow. By now I had been out for an hour and half, and with that windy section to look forward to at the end, I reluctantly said good-bye and continued on my way.

Before getting to the windy section, I put some muscle into my ski to build up internal heat before it would be leached away by the wind again.

I got back to the part where I had seen the fox. His tracks were almost erased, as mine will be--whether by wind or by spring melt. But I remember seeing him, and I hope, by reading this blog, my "tracks" left behind in this world, some soul will remember me.

JK about Last Ski on March 13th--Good Friday Ski Today!

The dike covered in new snow

I woke up at 4:30am because it seemed lighter out. When I looked out the window, I saw there were several inches of new snow! I did go back to sleep, but as soon as I woke up again, I got dressed for skiing and went outside. It was about 14 degrees F above zero and NO WIND.

A close-up of the new snow on the dike. 

It. was. magical. Fluffy powder that had accumulated on the west side of the dike, flowed around my legs mid-calf, as I kicked up to the top. It was still cloudy out from the departing winter storm, but a few rays of sunlight reflected on the new snow crystals and sparkled back at me. As I descended down the dike, I delighted in the floaty feeling of gliding that I thought I wouldn't feel again for several months. What a treat! And a day off work, so I didn't have to rush through this wonderful experience.

I took time to take photos of the new snow. I love the blankness of it. No one else had been out yet, and the possibilities seem so exciting. What kind of ski would this be? It didn't matter at all because it is a bonus ski--I really thought that when I left for Kansas City on March 13th, I would not be skiing again this season. I like the untracked snow just as I love the blank page. I know a lot of people don't like staring at a blank page, but I do. I like the newness, the potential. Anything could happen...

More untracked snow. But this is different. 

Like today--I was startled by the honking of a flock of geese wheeling above me. On the surface, this looks like another white, wintry day, but it's not--this is just a temporary covering on what is really spring. There were lots of little reminders of this, not just the big, loud reminders like the honking geese. For example, look in the top right corner of the photo above, and you will see a barely covered puddle. It didn't get *that* cold last night, so I doubt it's really frozen. I wouldn't ski across it.

Another little reminder, every time I planted a ski pole, I could feel a little give to the ground under the snow--it's not frozen hard anymore. And in a couple of spots, a frozen puddle gave way under my ski. Once there was water underneath, and I had to stop and clear off the clump of snow that immediately collected on the wetness.

Canadian Geese taking a break in the Red River of the North

I heard new bird calls--the woods are filling up. Also, the light is different--the sun is up early and rises in a different spot on the horizon. The river is flowing in the open spots, and it has flooded some of the lower areas near the river already. So, despite looking a lot like any other winter day, this really was a spring ski.

When I got home, I encouraged Enrico to go out skiing right away, while the snow lasted. When he came back, I had a big brunch ready for him and Max and our neighbors. After brunch, I tried going out again with Noko, but the magic was already gone--I couldn't glide at all without snow clumping up on the bottom of my skis, and each stride completely denuded the track of snow, leaving a muddy strip behind. I took off my skis and walked home with the dog, both a little glum, squinting as the now bright sun reflected off the rapidly melting snow.

Last ski on March 13, 2018

Tuesday morning, March 13, 2018 Last ski of this season

Today I had to drive down to Kansas City, Missouri--a nine-hour drive--for the Conference on College Composition and Communication, so I went out for one last ski before leaving. The trail was a bit icy in the parts that had melted yesterday, but it was still a very good ski. I have definitely made the most of the skiing in these last few weeks, getting out virtually every day and sometimes twice a day. Quite frankly, I'm pretty tired out at this point! Nevertheless, I will be sad when I get home on Sunday and there will be no more skiing in Fargo for this season. Until next winter!