Snowy Hike, 3.21.2018
Posted: Wed Mar 21, 2018 8:28 pm
Today I had the pleasure of waking up to a nice solid two inches of snow carpeting the landscape. Maybe the last of the season, who knows?
I just had to take the opportunity, since work was called off due to the weather, so I geared up and headed out with the dog to a nearby roadside access to the river.
I took my camera with me...and when I arrived the battery was dead, so you get to read. HA!
It was a wonderful outing, actually. I would have liked to snag one photo in full winter kit in the snow, but it was also very rewarding to carry no camera, and just disappear.
We began following the river, but that follows a fairly beaten walking path created by locals when fishing, so after 50 yards or so of this, Shadow and I took a sharp turn to the left and plunged into the thick woods, off-trail. We meandered through the thick grasses bowed sharply under the weight of the snow, and across piles and piles of sticks and briar burnened similarly. I located an active Red Tailed Hawk nest that'll bear watching in the top of a 60' sycamore (taking notes for spring trapping season!) and even spooked a local owl, not commonly seen during the broad daylight.
I was playing in my mind a little bit, being arrayed for a patrol rather than an overnight (left the bedroll+dry goods at home, but carried all other usual tools, mess, and essentials between my tinderbox, snapsack and need-wallet) and thought to myself that I ought to see how well I can conceal my own tracks. This led to a great many observations today.
You see, snow by its nature is the easiest material to view fresh prints in, save perhaps only certain consistencies of mud. In observing today, I was reminded just how much easier it is to track someone wearing modern shoes than it is to trail someone wearing turnshoes. Rather than leaving crisp lines and patterns, the "soft-edged", smooth-bottomed turnshoe merely compresses the snow, leaving little to go on. Thinking myself clever, I wove onto and off of the local game trails as I went, noting that the well-packed game trails were melting sooner than the grassy areas surrounding, leaving a mottled snow-and-mud texture. This further concealed my prints, and, looking over my shoulder, left satisfying results.
We went a good two-three miles in before we decided it was time to start working our way back. Then, and only then, did it occur to me to try to follow my own trail to return, and see how well I did.
One is always left to wonder...am I a better tracker than I am a concealer? Or do I just suck at both?
Lessons learned today:
- Weaving in and out of following partially melted game trails DEFINITELY threw me for a loop. Finding where I entered and exited was a particular challenge, and more than once I relied on Shadow's nose first, and then found prints later.
- Snow compression, rather than shapes and imprints themselves, becomes something to look for. The eye, after a few minutes, becomes drawn to it, and things I doubted I'd have noticed become sharp and clear. Think nobody ever looks up? Correct. Nobody ever looks down much either...do it often!
- I lost my trail completely about three times. I backtracked and came to the spot where they disappeared, and slowly cast about in a circle looking for them. I've read that's generally the way to pick up a lost trail, and now I think it is bogus. Want to find a lost track? Here, cover the area in your footprints... Instead, what I found was that if I backtracked along the trail, and then made a logical guess based on the terrain ahead of where the track ended (ie. which side of the patch of bushes is easier to skirt around, where on the hill is the easiest ascent, which side of the tree is less steep, etc.) and then head blindly in that direction, I almost always found what I was looking for again without further incident. Once, on the way in, I meandered wildly through an open field. When I came to it on the way back, my tracks were lost and confused, but there was only one logical exit to the field [which was otherwise surrounded by thick briars] a hundred yards distant. I made for it directly, and was greeted with my own prints.
It was a blast...we spend so much time working on cultural relevance and accuracy that I sometimes forget to work on skills that would aid in a pinch which are, to be certain, book-accurate. Even watching my dog for cues is book-accurate...Rangers seem to understand the languages of birds and beasts in the Bree folk's minds. Pay attention to your dog.
Kit worked splendidly for a low-30's morning with a strong breeze cutting through the trees. Wish I could share the view with you!
I just had to take the opportunity, since work was called off due to the weather, so I geared up and headed out with the dog to a nearby roadside access to the river.
I took my camera with me...and when I arrived the battery was dead, so you get to read. HA!
It was a wonderful outing, actually. I would have liked to snag one photo in full winter kit in the snow, but it was also very rewarding to carry no camera, and just disappear.
We began following the river, but that follows a fairly beaten walking path created by locals when fishing, so after 50 yards or so of this, Shadow and I took a sharp turn to the left and plunged into the thick woods, off-trail. We meandered through the thick grasses bowed sharply under the weight of the snow, and across piles and piles of sticks and briar burnened similarly. I located an active Red Tailed Hawk nest that'll bear watching in the top of a 60' sycamore (taking notes for spring trapping season!) and even spooked a local owl, not commonly seen during the broad daylight.
I was playing in my mind a little bit, being arrayed for a patrol rather than an overnight (left the bedroll+dry goods at home, but carried all other usual tools, mess, and essentials between my tinderbox, snapsack and need-wallet) and thought to myself that I ought to see how well I can conceal my own tracks. This led to a great many observations today.
You see, snow by its nature is the easiest material to view fresh prints in, save perhaps only certain consistencies of mud. In observing today, I was reminded just how much easier it is to track someone wearing modern shoes than it is to trail someone wearing turnshoes. Rather than leaving crisp lines and patterns, the "soft-edged", smooth-bottomed turnshoe merely compresses the snow, leaving little to go on. Thinking myself clever, I wove onto and off of the local game trails as I went, noting that the well-packed game trails were melting sooner than the grassy areas surrounding, leaving a mottled snow-and-mud texture. This further concealed my prints, and, looking over my shoulder, left satisfying results.
We went a good two-three miles in before we decided it was time to start working our way back. Then, and only then, did it occur to me to try to follow my own trail to return, and see how well I did.
One is always left to wonder...am I a better tracker than I am a concealer? Or do I just suck at both?
Lessons learned today:
- Weaving in and out of following partially melted game trails DEFINITELY threw me for a loop. Finding where I entered and exited was a particular challenge, and more than once I relied on Shadow's nose first, and then found prints later.
- Snow compression, rather than shapes and imprints themselves, becomes something to look for. The eye, after a few minutes, becomes drawn to it, and things I doubted I'd have noticed become sharp and clear. Think nobody ever looks up? Correct. Nobody ever looks down much either...do it often!
- I lost my trail completely about three times. I backtracked and came to the spot where they disappeared, and slowly cast about in a circle looking for them. I've read that's generally the way to pick up a lost trail, and now I think it is bogus. Want to find a lost track? Here, cover the area in your footprints... Instead, what I found was that if I backtracked along the trail, and then made a logical guess based on the terrain ahead of where the track ended (ie. which side of the patch of bushes is easier to skirt around, where on the hill is the easiest ascent, which side of the tree is less steep, etc.) and then head blindly in that direction, I almost always found what I was looking for again without further incident. Once, on the way in, I meandered wildly through an open field. When I came to it on the way back, my tracks were lost and confused, but there was only one logical exit to the field [which was otherwise surrounded by thick briars] a hundred yards distant. I made for it directly, and was greeted with my own prints.
It was a blast...we spend so much time working on cultural relevance and accuracy that I sometimes forget to work on skills that would aid in a pinch which are, to be certain, book-accurate. Even watching my dog for cues is book-accurate...Rangers seem to understand the languages of birds and beasts in the Bree folk's minds. Pay attention to your dog.
Kit worked splendidly for a low-30's morning with a strong breeze cutting through the trees. Wish I could share the view with you!