I would have loved Piper's company, but she'd ended up with 3 bloody paws on our little 4-miler on Thursday. I figured that 20 in potentially worse conditions wasn't a good idea. It didn't take very long to know it was the right decision. I decided I'd try to do as many miles on our side of the road as I could squeeze out, then head towards Triffittville as far as seemed runnable, and repeat as necessary for the mileage.
The miles in our fields, all two, were difficult going. I had to stop before getting to the little stream that would be impassable; the field was flooded. It had ice over it, but probably just 1/4 in thick. Not even gonna try. The light, but steady freezing rain began to soak my gloves. By the time I'd started to warm from the effort, the freezing rain picked up and I turned into the wind. Brrrr...
I thought I had seen the worst of what I'd be dealing with till I crossed Webster street onto the first power lines on the way to Triffittville. The snomo trail looked solid, but my right leg post holed fairly deeply. I timbered forward. I assessed. I was fine. I stood, stepped back to catch my balance, post holed, and fell. Perfect. I thought about turning back, but that would mean repeating the bit around our fields about 10x. No, I'd brave the power line piece of perpetual post holing. It's less than a half a mile, but it seemed to stretch on and on. Turning off the power line into the woods, the trail was the best of what I'd run for the day. Unfortunately, that was only a half mile, too. Then it opened onto another field.
Fields. Fucking fields. The problem with fields, at least for winter running, is that snowmobiles aren't constrained to follow one path. They spread out. The trail, or the multiple tracks, never get packed. I wouldn't call it post holing, but it was lots of just breaking through for long stretches, sliding in sugar, or slipping on unexpected shear ice. I was pleasantly surprised when the stream/marsh between the field I was in and the next was crossable without a plunge. One more field and I'd be into the woods!
Yeah, that's just not how this run was going to go. After that field, I entered the wooded opening only to see the "Bridge Out" sign. I kept going to inspect. After all, there were snomo tracks heading that way. Whoa! The bridge was out alright. It had been one of the more rickety, and it was a fairly big stream, but I didn't expect the entire bridge to be gone. OK, bummer, no Scoutland to Triffittville traverse this year.
And bummer cause now I knew how small my "loop" would be. I turned back. At least I was with the wind this direction. Just after the little marsh crossing, I noticed that lots of snomos went a different way. Did they know of another bridge? I debated following. Was it smart to go off on an unknown path in this weather with these trail conditions? No, but it would turn it into more of an adventure. So, no second thoughts, I went in a new direction.
Over a field, down a big hill, right to the river. It was obvious that the river had allowed crossing at one point, but not any more. I looked up and down stream. There wasn't any log across or narrow pieces that I could see - another dead end. Ugh. Once again I realized how limited my trail was. Back on the Power Line of Perpetual Sorrow, I fell again. Fortunately, I was able to press my heel into the bottom of the watery hole to stop my calf from going into spasm. This was the moment I named the PLPS. I may have even gotten some pleasure in that.
Hmmm, even though there had been no snowmobile traffic down to the beaver lodge, I decided to see what the trail down would be like. Miles. I needed miles. It wasn't easy, but it was easier than a lot of what I was doing. It was, at least, consistent. Woohoo ( a little sarcastic)...it was all of 7 miles since I left the house. Do I just stay on the fatass side of the street and off the Power Line of Perpetual Post Holing? Then I remembered the best little stretch was on the other side. OK, I'd run up to that point, then decide.
Conditions had actually deteriorated from the start. Perfect. I have to admit to laughing when I got back to the PLPS or PLPPHH (Power Line of Perpetual Post Holing Hell). I had 10 miles on my Garmin. Well, I was all in now. It was almost better on the PLPS because I could just plan on going through. I went VERY slowly. YAY!!!!! The runnable stretch was still runnable, I ran it a couple of times.
When I headed down the beaver path again, there were fresh coyote tracks. As I followed the canine prints, a little voice in my head questioned going in the same direction as a coyote all alone. A saner voice reminded me they were more afraid of me. My normal voice had a conversation with the coyote about his/her feet being able to handle the trail conditions while they made Piper's bleed. The coyote told me that was because she had feet to far removed from the wolf. Whippet feet weren't developed for the snow.
I finally made it back to the house with a bit over 19 miles. Close enough. I felt pretty beat up. I had some kind of pride in hanging in there, but wanted no part of that type of a run for Sunday. I opted to head up to Andy. The snomo trail there is so well defined; there is no riding if not on the trail. It was the best shot of having a packed trail. I also figured that the warmer weather would be kinder to Piper's feet. I knew she wanted to run with me. If it was a buts, it was a bust.It was a small adventure getting into the parking lot, even with all-wheel drive, but it was worth it! Both Piper and I found the trail very acceptable. My legs let me know they'd been beaten up the day before, but I told them to rejoice they were here. Yes, I do love Andy :) I checked Piper's paws after one mile, two, three...four was the turn around so it was a go.
I let her off leash for a good long stretch. She didn't need to be told to rejoice.
