My focus was on the trail; actually, it was on either side of the trail.
I was hiking slowly on a sun-drenched section of trail through a bottomland forest bordering the Smith River in Virginia. It was mid-afternoon, the temperature was in the low 60s and I was determined to find the first sign of spring, be it a trout lily, a spring beauty, whatever. The conditions were ideal; in my mind it was already spring.
This post ran four years ago after our last significant snow. We rerun it again, tweaked, because the circumstance is similar — for some of us, at least. It snowed last weekend — for some of us — it’s been cold since, and — again, for some of us — a fair amount of snow remains. And who doesn’t love to hike in snow!
Here’s our annual note for when the temperature seems too cold to hike.
I start most days with an early 3-mile hike. The walk often spells the difference between a good day and a really good day. The walk is important any day of the week, but it’s especially critical on Mondays. This past Monday when I checked the weather, it was 17 degrees out.
The following post originally appeared Dec. 12, 2016. We rerun it today, with a tweak or two, because it expresses our appreciation of the season that lies ahead.
Winter’s skies are milky, indifferent. Its landscape monochromatic, a wash of grays and browns. Its weather harsh at times. And Lord knows the season is stingy with sunlight. The stuff of travel & tourism ad campaigns winter is not.
We’ve reached late fall, the transition between glorious fall hiking and winter, a period many see as a three-month hiatus from the trail. Why? Well, we know not why: for us, it has become our favorite season to be on the trail. It’s a topic we’ve waxed on at length; here, for instance.
