Proof there are intrepid souls out on the rail trail.
They who sing through the summer must dance through the winter.
-Italian Proverb
Waldo and I got a little bit of a late start today. I got involved in some writing and lost track of time. We won’t be finished before about 5:30 PM. The sun will set at 4:26 PM, so I expect it will be a little dark by the time we get back to the car. There’ll be a full moon tonight and the sky is pretty clear, though, so I’m not that worried. We’ve been out here when it’s been darker.
We had a dusting of snow again, no more than an inch, so the trail is covered in white, with many, many footprints. No plow has been this way yet, though I’m sure it will in the near future. The snow fell yesterday, so it has had time to bond a little to the underlying ice. Things are still somewhat slick, but the going is easy with no real danger of falling. The ice at the bottom was thoroughly pockmarked from lots of boots and paws and that makes the path very lumpy and a bit hard to walk on, but it’s not that bad.
Waldo and his four-paw drive, with built in cleats, doesn’t seem to have any problem at all. He’s on the trail, off the trail, in front of me and behind me, nose to the ground, seeking out interesting pee-mail and sticks. He really likes to grab long branches, some as much as 9 feet. Holding one end (usually the thinner end) in his mouth, he drags it behind him, and in front of me, where it’s hard for me to walk without stepping on it. That’s his way of enticing me to grab the heavier end and play tug-of-war. If I’m recalcitrant, he sometimes tries to poke me with the free end. Once, he missed and jabbed it between my legs, causing me to trip and fall. He may be 7 ½ years old, but he’s still a puppy. I grab the bigger end and we pull each other down the trail. After a while, I tire of the game and drop the stick. Waldo then repeats his ploy in remonstration. I’ve explained to him that sticks don’t appeal to me like they do to him, but he can’t fathom it. Finally, he gives up, directs his attention to what’s in front of his nose, and continues on down the trail, odar on.
We’ve gone just over a mile, just past the new park at the Fort Meadow Reservoir overlook, when I see a bicycle leaning up against the hurricane fence that borders the trail there. I know there are bikers out here this time of year because I can see the tracks they leave behind in the snow and ice. But this is the first time I’ve actually seen one on the hoof. A man stands a few feet from the bike, doing I-can’t-tell what. “Hello!” I say as Waldo and I get close. “Is that your bike?”
“Yes, it is,” he answers.
“Can I take a picture of you and your bike? Just to prove that there are bikers out here this time of year.”
“Sure,” he says and gets closer to his bike, as I dig my phone out from my zipped-up and sealed-tight parka.
“How the hell do you keep from falling?” His bike is a thin-tired touring bike. Not even a balloon-tired mountain bike.
“It isn’t easy. This stuff isn’t too bad, but Hudson is impossible.”
“You mean in the no-plow zone.”
He smiles. “So, you know the path well.”
“I’ve been there, once or twice.”
I get my picture and Waldo and I continue on our way. After a few minutes, he passes us, rolling down the trail as if there were no snow and ice there at all. Amazing.
I was a little concerned about how the going will be in Hudson. I needn’t have worried. The snow has covered the ice I studiously avoided yesterday, before the storm, but it is very walkable today. I don’t have to take to the swaths of white ice on the sides of the trail, like I did the last time we were here. I can walk anywhere and get enough traction. It is lumpy and a little slippery, but not that much different from the trail in Marlborough. Maybe the biker could have negotiated it after all. I see no tracks saying that he tried.
A couple of hours have passed by the time we get back to the overlook. It’s 5 PM and the sun set more than a half-hour ago. The day’s afterglow lingers as twilight in the mostly clear sky. Beyond snow-covered fields, lights shine in distant buildings and houses and along the Route 85 highway. They provide a splash of color to the white and beige landscape and, not much more than 10 degrees above the horizon, is a gorgeous full moon, just risen. It’s cold, the temperature has dropped to about 10℉, so we don’t linger, but I do take another picture so I can relish the sight later in the warmth of home. Winter has its own kind of beauty.
All you have to do is get out into it to experience it.
There are advantages to being out here after dark – moonrise over Fort Meadow Reservoir.