Is there such a thing? Sometimes I wonder. It hasn't even been a week yet and I'm still trying to catch up here at home. Having 2 days of drenching rain hasn't helped but I'm making a dent, I think.
Yesterday, I organized the woodshed and now there's room for the big weed-eater and the lawn mower, and still enough room to walk back to the wood. Still some work to do in there though. I've even taken a small stab at the shop but that's mostly just a by-product of needing to find a place for the things I put in there from the woodshed. Doing things like sorting out the nails and putting nuts and bolts into coffee cans instead of leaving them rattling around in the bottom of bad boxes or broken tubs made a huge difference in both places.
Today, I burned those old boxes, and boy, was that a chore. It was raining so hard, the boxes were getting wet before they could catch fire. I managed to get most of them anyway. I'll be burning again in a day or two so I'll see what's left from this time. Even though I wore my Riversong rain jacket, I was drenched by the time I came back in. I guess it's not as waterproof as I thought.
What with all the rain we've been having, we've been concerned about the boats. We pulled my boat, the last one, last Wednesday, the day after my last day of work. I had to paddle it into the slough where we park because the water was too low. I ended up poling my way in; the narrowness didn't give me much room to hit water on the sides and there wasn't much water under the boat anyway. Enough to float it but that's all.
As of this evening, there has been enough rain over the last 2 days to bring the water level clear up level with the bank again. What took a come-along and an extra length of rope (about 10 feet) last Wednesday could have been done by hand this evening, well almost anyway.
It stopped raining around 4 this evening and there was even a tiny window of sunshine, but I'm sure the river won't catch up with all the rain-fall until tomorrow morning sometime. I hope the water doesn't go up a lot more, but I'm about as prepared for it as I can be. The plugs are all in and the anchors are all out. The fuel won't be in any danger unless the water comes up another six feet or so. It's happened before. I don't look forward to it.
Anna of Alaska - Every day is an adventure
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Friday, July 13, 2012
What the Water Hides
It never ceases to amaze me when I run across someone driving a boat who seems to believe that the ground totally vanishes at the water's edge.
Today, as I was driving to work (in my boat) I was going to pass someone in what was probably an 18 foot, semi-V boat with two big motors on the back. At this point, the river was a Y intersection. I was driving up river, approaching the intersection, coming down the left-hand arm of the Y. This other guy and his one passenger was also driving upriver, approaching the same intersection from the right-hand arm of the Y. I was headed on down to the leg, but the other guy was intending to go up the left-hand arm of the Y. Had everything gone without a hitch, he would have passed me barely before I was out of my arm of the intersection. However, things did not go without a hitch.
Believing there is nothing beneath the surface of the water, he took the corner WAY too tight. Surely a man who owns a big boat with two big motors would know something about driving on a river.
Now understand, this river, where I drive every day, is a glacial river meaning it's gray rather than clear - you can't see past the surface more than say an inch, if that far. It's been a long time since I stuck my hand in the water to see - I mean, it's cold, and if I'm sticking my hands in the river it's to quickly wash some mud off - I just don't pay attention to how far under I can see my hand. I haven't done that for a very long time.
But I digress - Since this guy ignored the collection of rather large river trash shoved into the corner he was intent on cutting too close, it apparently also never occurred to him that such things stay there, not only because they've run into the bank right at the intersection of the Y, but they stay there because the water is rather shallow. Such things even contribute to the water being shallow. Cutting around the visible obstacle, he hit a buried one. It knocked his motor up and the current spun his boat around and parked it right in the middle of the Y.
No one was hurt. No one was thrown out of their seat, nor was there any further danger other than possibly being stuck and unable to push out if the corner. I tried to idle over and maybe help but I couldn't get closer than say 20 or 30 feet from them before my prop starting kissing gravel so I had to pull away.
I watched though and they were able to push away and back out into the current. Next time I looked back they were gone. Did he learn anything about driving on a river? Well, maybe. At least he knows not to cut that corner close again.
Still shaking my head
Today, as I was driving to work (in my boat) I was going to pass someone in what was probably an 18 foot, semi-V boat with two big motors on the back. At this point, the river was a Y intersection. I was driving up river, approaching the intersection, coming down the left-hand arm of the Y. This other guy and his one passenger was also driving upriver, approaching the same intersection from the right-hand arm of the Y. I was headed on down to the leg, but the other guy was intending to go up the left-hand arm of the Y. Had everything gone without a hitch, he would have passed me barely before I was out of my arm of the intersection. However, things did not go without a hitch.
Believing there is nothing beneath the surface of the water, he took the corner WAY too tight. Surely a man who owns a big boat with two big motors would know something about driving on a river.
Now understand, this river, where I drive every day, is a glacial river meaning it's gray rather than clear - you can't see past the surface more than say an inch, if that far. It's been a long time since I stuck my hand in the water to see - I mean, it's cold, and if I'm sticking my hands in the river it's to quickly wash some mud off - I just don't pay attention to how far under I can see my hand. I haven't done that for a very long time.
But I digress - Since this guy ignored the collection of rather large river trash shoved into the corner he was intent on cutting too close, it apparently also never occurred to him that such things stay there, not only because they've run into the bank right at the intersection of the Y, but they stay there because the water is rather shallow. Such things even contribute to the water being shallow. Cutting around the visible obstacle, he hit a buried one. It knocked his motor up and the current spun his boat around and parked it right in the middle of the Y.
No one was hurt. No one was thrown out of their seat, nor was there any further danger other than possibly being stuck and unable to push out if the corner. I tried to idle over and maybe help but I couldn't get closer than say 20 or 30 feet from them before my prop starting kissing gravel so I had to pull away.
I watched though and they were able to push away and back out into the current. Next time I looked back they were gone. Did he learn anything about driving on a river? Well, maybe. At least he knows not to cut that corner close again.
Still shaking my head
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Flying Lessons
Not me - baby birds.
Due to boat motor problems, our big boat is parked out on the river rather than in our little slough, and since I am not driving my own boat at the moment, I'm leaving my pistol in the seat while I'm at work.
Yesterday, when I got home, I tromped into the boat to get my pistol. I lifted the bench seat, which creaks like a door in a horror house, lifted my pistol out and set it on the folded front seat while I closed the bench again - it's kinda heavy and I don't want to pinch my fingers. Then I noticed, sitting on the floor of the boat right behind this seat, was a baby bird. It had most of it's grown-up feathers but it still had some baby peach-fuzz around the edges. I can only assume it screwed up by landing in the boat and somehow ended up down on the floor.
I have no idea what kind of bird it is, but I do know that they nest on the ground and spend a good deal of their time there. When alarmed, they chirp a sound kinda like an air kiss, and not the 'muah' kind - just a little clicking sound. They are always scolding the dog if she's with me.
It looked cold and was probably scared from all the horrible noise I'd just made, so I sat down and picked it up. I planned to hold it, giving it a warm place for as long as it wanted. It was a very trusting little guy, but it didn't seem to be interested in snuggling. It wriggled out of my hand and hopped up my arm until it ran into my upper arm. I reached to pet it and it flew to the front of the boat.
I finished putting my pistol belt on, figuring if it was still sitting there, I'd take it up out of the boat and maybe a little further away from the water. Not far - I could hear mom calling. But, this little guy wasn't interested in getting reacquainted. It flew out of the boat, but not up enough to land up on the ground. Instead, it landed down on the bank. In no danger of getting washed into the river, but I could have wished for a better landing spot. With tail feathers only about half an inch long (maybe), navigation wasn't it's strong point and that was likely why it had managed to get into it's original predicament in the boat. It just hadn't figured out how to do 'up' very well yet.
I left him alone. He was out of reach from the boat and if I tried to catch him from the bank, he might try to fly away out over the water and I didn't want that. I felt certain he would make it out of this spot even if he had to climb out - a possibility.
This morning, as I walked down to the boats to go to work, the whole family flew up into the trees. Flying lessons had progressed to 'up' just fine.
Due to boat motor problems, our big boat is parked out on the river rather than in our little slough, and since I am not driving my own boat at the moment, I'm leaving my pistol in the seat while I'm at work.
Yesterday, when I got home, I tromped into the boat to get my pistol. I lifted the bench seat, which creaks like a door in a horror house, lifted my pistol out and set it on the folded front seat while I closed the bench again - it's kinda heavy and I don't want to pinch my fingers. Then I noticed, sitting on the floor of the boat right behind this seat, was a baby bird. It had most of it's grown-up feathers but it still had some baby peach-fuzz around the edges. I can only assume it screwed up by landing in the boat and somehow ended up down on the floor.
I have no idea what kind of bird it is, but I do know that they nest on the ground and spend a good deal of their time there. When alarmed, they chirp a sound kinda like an air kiss, and not the 'muah' kind - just a little clicking sound. They are always scolding the dog if she's with me.
It looked cold and was probably scared from all the horrible noise I'd just made, so I sat down and picked it up. I planned to hold it, giving it a warm place for as long as it wanted. It was a very trusting little guy, but it didn't seem to be interested in snuggling. It wriggled out of my hand and hopped up my arm until it ran into my upper arm. I reached to pet it and it flew to the front of the boat.
I finished putting my pistol belt on, figuring if it was still sitting there, I'd take it up out of the boat and maybe a little further away from the water. Not far - I could hear mom calling. But, this little guy wasn't interested in getting reacquainted. It flew out of the boat, but not up enough to land up on the ground. Instead, it landed down on the bank. In no danger of getting washed into the river, but I could have wished for a better landing spot. With tail feathers only about half an inch long (maybe), navigation wasn't it's strong point and that was likely why it had managed to get into it's original predicament in the boat. It just hadn't figured out how to do 'up' very well yet.
I left him alone. He was out of reach from the boat and if I tried to catch him from the bank, he might try to fly away out over the water and I didn't want that. I felt certain he would make it out of this spot even if he had to climb out - a possibility.
This morning, as I walked down to the boats to go to work, the whole family flew up into the trees. Flying lessons had progressed to 'up' just fine.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Grass
I went out and did some raking again today. I'm trying to get some of the Fireweed stalks raked up in the hopes the areas can be mowed. This time I didn't wear my wool shirt and I lasted much longer than last time. I lasted until a sneezing fit drove me into the house to wash my face. I've grown allergic to spruce trees when they dust their pollen all over the place, and early spring is when their dust is the thickest. Left over dust from winter doesn't help though.
During my raking I discovered a few clumps called Niger Head grass. I cringe every time I hear that name but if they have some more official name, I don't know it. Niger Head can get quite big - big humps of root clumps. Found out on the trail or on the perimeter of a swamp especially during the winter, they can dump a snowmachine over unless the trail is already packed and such lumps are compensated for. I don't think I'm going to have that kind of trouble with these little clumps. The lawn mower or the weed eater will have something to say about that.
All around the edges of our yard is last year's native grass, now all dry and laying down. Once was the time I'd go out and collect that dry grass by the haystack to use for the chickens and ducks the rest of the year. At the time I wished for a hay baler because finding a dry place around here to store a haystack isn't easy.
Of course, the vast majority of our yard is the normal yard grass most everyone has in their yard. Personally, I prefer the wild grass kept cut. You can't cut that short like you can lawn grass. Maybe if it was cut every few days, but I doubt it. Cut short, the wild grass is not so green and rather course. Cut kinda long though, say six inches or so, and it's really quite soft and rather lush. Course, if you don't cut it, it doesn't take long for it to reach six feet and a tunnel would be necessary to get to the outhouse.
Domestic grass really must be kept short. Allowed to grow long, it's no less lush but it lays over and can trip up one's feet. Sadly, it rains a lot here (usually) and cutting the grass in the rain really sucks in so many ways. The grass, however, loves the rain and positively explodes with growth, so waiting for it to dry enough to cut between showers just might not be possible. Therefore, it's either cut the wet grass when the opportunity knocks or wait for an extra long sunny break. Needless to say, such days don't always happen, so cutting the extra long domestic grass is a huge pain involving a good deal of raking.
This all leads me back to today. Though I'm concentrating on Fireweed, much of the rest will get my attention too, until I have to go to work, and if the ground isn't dry enough to rake before then, well, maybe I'll manage to get it raked up before we need to mow again. The whole thing is complicated this year. We dropped two trees in the yard last winter. I'll likely get the branches moved sometime this summer.
In case you're curious, there's still some snow here and there. There's still water running across the trail and now the ground is starting to thaw out there so it's getting really muddy. I'm taking the raked up grass and walking it into the mud. It helps, and with luck, enough seed heads are present to start some grass growing there. The roots will help to stabilize the mud somewhat.
It still freezes at night, but just barely, and the water in the river is still too low to drive a boat anywhere. I guess we should have kept the jet boat. It might have been eighteen feet long but it drove well and it could manage this level of water.
During my raking I discovered a few clumps called Niger Head grass. I cringe every time I hear that name but if they have some more official name, I don't know it. Niger Head can get quite big - big humps of root clumps. Found out on the trail or on the perimeter of a swamp especially during the winter, they can dump a snowmachine over unless the trail is already packed and such lumps are compensated for. I don't think I'm going to have that kind of trouble with these little clumps. The lawn mower or the weed eater will have something to say about that.
All around the edges of our yard is last year's native grass, now all dry and laying down. Once was the time I'd go out and collect that dry grass by the haystack to use for the chickens and ducks the rest of the year. At the time I wished for a hay baler because finding a dry place around here to store a haystack isn't easy.
Of course, the vast majority of our yard is the normal yard grass most everyone has in their yard. Personally, I prefer the wild grass kept cut. You can't cut that short like you can lawn grass. Maybe if it was cut every few days, but I doubt it. Cut short, the wild grass is not so green and rather course. Cut kinda long though, say six inches or so, and it's really quite soft and rather lush. Course, if you don't cut it, it doesn't take long for it to reach six feet and a tunnel would be necessary to get to the outhouse.
Domestic grass really must be kept short. Allowed to grow long, it's no less lush but it lays over and can trip up one's feet. Sadly, it rains a lot here (usually) and cutting the grass in the rain really sucks in so many ways. The grass, however, loves the rain and positively explodes with growth, so waiting for it to dry enough to cut between showers just might not be possible. Therefore, it's either cut the wet grass when the opportunity knocks or wait for an extra long sunny break. Needless to say, such days don't always happen, so cutting the extra long domestic grass is a huge pain involving a good deal of raking.
This all leads me back to today. Though I'm concentrating on Fireweed, much of the rest will get my attention too, until I have to go to work, and if the ground isn't dry enough to rake before then, well, maybe I'll manage to get it raked up before we need to mow again. The whole thing is complicated this year. We dropped two trees in the yard last winter. I'll likely get the branches moved sometime this summer.
In case you're curious, there's still some snow here and there. There's still water running across the trail and now the ground is starting to thaw out there so it's getting really muddy. I'm taking the raked up grass and walking it into the mud. It helps, and with luck, enough seed heads are present to start some grass growing there. The roots will help to stabilize the mud somewhat.
It still freezes at night, but just barely, and the water in the river is still too low to drive a boat anywhere. I guess we should have kept the jet boat. It might have been eighteen feet long but it drove well and it could manage this level of water.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
I Need a Cat or Two
My first experiment with a picture. Let me know how it works out for you. Yes, this is what the snow has left for us on the sunny side of my house. You can see in the upper right hand corner the ladder, right above that is my satellite dish.
These are mouse tunnels all carefully insulated from the snow by the grass they packed against the top of their tunnels. There are a few places where the tunnel goes down into the ground. I never see these little buggers, but there must be quite a few of them. What do you think? Do I need a cat or two?
I haven't had cats here for four years now, and though our dog catches a mouse or a shrew now and then, she obviously isn't keeping up with the population explosion. I love cats, but over the years I have increasingly grown more and more allergic to them. However, I have been thinking. There are other things I had been growing increasingly allergic to, apples being one of them, but since I started to lose weight last summer, eating apples was one of the pleasures I was able to re-indulge in. I know one allergy is not connected to another, but dare I hope?
Every day on Facebook I see the most adorable pictures of kittens and cats all doing what kittens and cats do. It makes me miss them all the more. I think, therefore, I am in the market for giving it a try. Allergy or not, I want another kitten around here. This place is just too quiet.
My only concern is, old dogs scarcely tolerated my other cats. They were mine, therefore they weren't to be chased, but that didn't mean she didn't REALLY want to. Same with the chickens I had back then. Since I have decided I won't be spending great chunks of time away from here in the winter, having assorted animals around has been something I have been longing for. Maybe not so many as before, and maybe not chickens. I'll have to think about that one. It got to the point where an egg averaged about $2 when cost of feed was figured in to how many eggs I ended up with. Then there's the damage they were always doing to the yard.
I can do a cat or two. Maybe if my kids will read this, they will bring me one or two this summer. Do my kids read this? If I get a kitten this summer, the answer will be yes. haha We'll see.
Friday, May 4, 2012
A Pleasant Stroll
Actually, my day started out with another little surprise. When I let the dog out this morning (at 6:30 in the AM), I saw my first little tweeter bird; I haven't seen any all winter long. I know the harsh cold had to have taken a hit on them. I found a little frozen body some years ago that looked like it had been blown out of a tree. I didn't find any such thing this year, but the absence of their cheerful chatter said that either they had migrated (I hope) somewhere further south, or that something much more dire had happened to them. I have yet to hear them twittering to each other so this one little guy doesn't have anyone to sing to yet.
But in other pleasant news: Since we have been expecting to need to babysit the boats through breakup, I have been doing my best to make it down to the boats from time to time. It's been unnaturally warm over the last couple weeks, and the snow has been melting fast. I have also kept in contact with the lodge for river news. Since the entire winter was so abysmally cold all winter long, we expected breakup to come with the roar of an ice dragon (note, I didn't say 'lion'). Instead, unless it somehow isn't over yet, it came rather like a kitten, leaving the water quite low.
I walked down there on the 30th of April to discover that pretty much all of the portion of river I could see was clear leaving only our runway floating free but still in one piece. Surprise me, but if I didn't know that there was probably a lot of intact snow still blocking the narrower channels further up river, there might have been enough water to drive the boat completely out. But I say that just as an indication of what the level of water was, not that it was at all drivable.
Knowing the snow on the trail was soft (it hadn't frozen at night for several nights in a row), I wore my snowshoes. I took the dog with me too; she does take her duty as guard dog quite seriously and gets upset with I take off without her. She is getting old and she was having some trouble with the soft snow. Where she was having the most trouble, the snow was only around knee deep for her but she's kinda stiff now and she wasn't at all anxious to trot on ahead.
There's a place along the trail that fills with spring snow-melt every year. This time there was only the highest ridge of left-over trail above the water. I side-stepped across that part, managing to break it down for her to walk across, but she didn't follow me, opting to wade across the icy water that was nearly neck deep for her.
When I went down there again day before yesterday, I left the dog behind. I was planning on trying to find a way around all that water and I knew the walking would be that much more difficult for her. I would likely be going through deeper snow and it wouldn't have been packed before. As it turns out, going around the water wasn't as easy as I'd hoped, so I'm doubly glad I decided to leave her behind.
The river day before yesterday was a surprise. After only two days, the runway was completely gone, leaving behind only a handful of truck-sized chunks of ice stuck along our side of the river right in front, and the water level about two feet lower than it was before. I called the lodge to learn that most of the main ice was still there, so breakup wasn't over yet.
Planning to walk down there again yesterday, I called the lodge for another river update to learn that he already had a boat in the water and had made the drive up to Skwentna. Was breakup over already??? and without the normal water levels rising and lowering three or four feet (if not more) four or five times as jams shoved their way down the river, getting stuck from time to time. Well, okay so I didn't bother to walk down there today. I had dug out a pair of waders to wear and I didn't relish walking in them. I don't get along with waders very well.
So, I headed out this morning wearing only my snow boots, figuring I'd turn around if I couldn't get across that spring run-off spot on our trail. Much to my surprise I could step across where the water was running in one spot and in another spot, I made it across water that was only ankle deep. Surprise, surprise. When I reached the river, it was to see that I had missed another bit of breakup. More ice had been shoved up onto the island out front and some of it was stacked up on other chunks. There was even one spot where a third piece of ice was on top, though I can't imagine how it got there unless it was already on top of it's perch before it all got deposited down here. The water had also gone down another foot or more. Sigh - I can't go anywhere until the water comes back up. Not to mention that the water is so unnaturally low. That is an indication that one or more of the rivers upriver from us has yet to cut loose, but it could also be an indication of just how dry the snow was this year. Who knows; it's still early. I don't NEED to go anywhere (work) for another two or three weeks at least.
But in other pleasant news: Since we have been expecting to need to babysit the boats through breakup, I have been doing my best to make it down to the boats from time to time. It's been unnaturally warm over the last couple weeks, and the snow has been melting fast. I have also kept in contact with the lodge for river news. Since the entire winter was so abysmally cold all winter long, we expected breakup to come with the roar of an ice dragon (note, I didn't say 'lion'). Instead, unless it somehow isn't over yet, it came rather like a kitten, leaving the water quite low.
I walked down there on the 30th of April to discover that pretty much all of the portion of river I could see was clear leaving only our runway floating free but still in one piece. Surprise me, but if I didn't know that there was probably a lot of intact snow still blocking the narrower channels further up river, there might have been enough water to drive the boat completely out. But I say that just as an indication of what the level of water was, not that it was at all drivable.
Knowing the snow on the trail was soft (it hadn't frozen at night for several nights in a row), I wore my snowshoes. I took the dog with me too; she does take her duty as guard dog quite seriously and gets upset with I take off without her. She is getting old and she was having some trouble with the soft snow. Where she was having the most trouble, the snow was only around knee deep for her but she's kinda stiff now and she wasn't at all anxious to trot on ahead.
There's a place along the trail that fills with spring snow-melt every year. This time there was only the highest ridge of left-over trail above the water. I side-stepped across that part, managing to break it down for her to walk across, but she didn't follow me, opting to wade across the icy water that was nearly neck deep for her.
When I went down there again day before yesterday, I left the dog behind. I was planning on trying to find a way around all that water and I knew the walking would be that much more difficult for her. I would likely be going through deeper snow and it wouldn't have been packed before. As it turns out, going around the water wasn't as easy as I'd hoped, so I'm doubly glad I decided to leave her behind.
The river day before yesterday was a surprise. After only two days, the runway was completely gone, leaving behind only a handful of truck-sized chunks of ice stuck along our side of the river right in front, and the water level about two feet lower than it was before. I called the lodge to learn that most of the main ice was still there, so breakup wasn't over yet.
Planning to walk down there again yesterday, I called the lodge for another river update to learn that he already had a boat in the water and had made the drive up to Skwentna. Was breakup over already??? and without the normal water levels rising and lowering three or four feet (if not more) four or five times as jams shoved their way down the river, getting stuck from time to time. Well, okay so I didn't bother to walk down there today. I had dug out a pair of waders to wear and I didn't relish walking in them. I don't get along with waders very well.
So, I headed out this morning wearing only my snow boots, figuring I'd turn around if I couldn't get across that spring run-off spot on our trail. Much to my surprise I could step across where the water was running in one spot and in another spot, I made it across water that was only ankle deep. Surprise, surprise. When I reached the river, it was to see that I had missed another bit of breakup. More ice had been shoved up onto the island out front and some of it was stacked up on other chunks. There was even one spot where a third piece of ice was on top, though I can't imagine how it got there unless it was already on top of it's perch before it all got deposited down here. The water had also gone down another foot or more. Sigh - I can't go anywhere until the water comes back up. Not to mention that the water is so unnaturally low. That is an indication that one or more of the rivers upriver from us has yet to cut loose, but it could also be an indication of just how dry the snow was this year. Who knows; it's still early. I don't NEED to go anywhere (work) for another two or three weeks at least.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
A Study in Patience
Walking. I bet you didn't even consider that walking might be a study in patience, did you? Well, it can be, especially this time of year, and more so this year. As the days are warm and the nights aren't so cold, the snow that once was a hard-packed trail, grows soft. Trouble is, they aren't the soft of new snow or even of mushy snow, easy to slosh through. The surface is uncertain; one step might be solid enough but the next one gives way. To preserve the integrity of your back, you need to be patient with every step. You need to be ready for every step to give way. Allow yourself to be pleased if it doesn't but don't trust that it won't until you have completely moved on to the next step - and the whole thing must be done all over again.
The best strategy is to take small steps, nearly heel to toe, not perfectly so but far shorter than a comfortable stride. Those of you ladies who like to sway your hips might find the necessary stiff back hard to accomplish, but it is a necessity. The step that gives way, seldom does so with any warning.
To add to the lesson in patience, and to reinforce the necessity of taking short careful steps, is the fact that the snow is still nearly knee deep. Not very deep, you say, but if your step suddenly plunges down and you are already throwing your weight into the next stride, you run the very real risk of leaving your knee behind stuck up in the hole your boot created while the surrounding solid surface didn't give way for the rest of your leg to move forward.
So, no matter how far you have to go, patience is key to keep your extremities in tact. Soon enough, when the snow is less deep, there will be an added dimension to the patience of walking. At the moment, the only problem is that you break through and your step goes straight down. Likely by next week, not only will the foot go down at unexpected moments, it just might go sideways too, and any direction is game.
Oh, and I suppose I should mention, whenever I'm going somewhere out there, it's usually to carry something back, so I'm a pound or 3 or 5 or 10 heavier, depending on what I went to get. That means that just because some spots might have held me up on going one direction, doesn't mean that same spot will hold you up on the way back.
So, patience is walking - a necessity. Are you patient enough?
The best strategy is to take small steps, nearly heel to toe, not perfectly so but far shorter than a comfortable stride. Those of you ladies who like to sway your hips might find the necessary stiff back hard to accomplish, but it is a necessity. The step that gives way, seldom does so with any warning.
To add to the lesson in patience, and to reinforce the necessity of taking short careful steps, is the fact that the snow is still nearly knee deep. Not very deep, you say, but if your step suddenly plunges down and you are already throwing your weight into the next stride, you run the very real risk of leaving your knee behind stuck up in the hole your boot created while the surrounding solid surface didn't give way for the rest of your leg to move forward.
So, no matter how far you have to go, patience is key to keep your extremities in tact. Soon enough, when the snow is less deep, there will be an added dimension to the patience of walking. At the moment, the only problem is that you break through and your step goes straight down. Likely by next week, not only will the foot go down at unexpected moments, it just might go sideways too, and any direction is game.
Oh, and I suppose I should mention, whenever I'm going somewhere out there, it's usually to carry something back, so I'm a pound or 3 or 5 or 10 heavier, depending on what I went to get. That means that just because some spots might have held me up on going one direction, doesn't mean that same spot will hold you up on the way back.
So, patience is walking - a necessity. Are you patient enough?
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