Like
Little Red Riding Hood, our winter commute is along serpentine trails
through the woods, over ridges and down frozen river beds. Depending on the distance, we travel by snow machine (snowmobile), cross country skis, or snow shoes. When we
are going slowly, I notice tracks of animals that are fox and coyote
size and larger. We descend down shallow access points to river
basins along with many moose tracks, since they like that gentle
trajectory, too. In fact, the hard snow machine trails are
pockmarked by the moose's deep tread, since walking on the hard
surface is easier for them than wallowing in the soft snow or the
thin ice. At this time of year, at least, there is a reciprocating
benefit of man to beast.
I enjoy
walking and snow machining through the woods more than across the
open flats of frozen bogs, lakes or meadows but there is beauty and
function in each. The heavily treed areas shield us from the north
wind which can be an unwelcome force, and it is rather fun to dip and
rise and twist and turn through a pillowy soft winter wonderland. In
the open flats, one can see the moutains beyond the trees. The close ones guide me home by their familiar faces as I wind around them. The tall, remote ones are treats to see so clearly in the winter air. They look closer, due to their height above 15,000 feet. The stronger wind is not only cold, but it stirs up
the snow, interfering with good visibility, which can be a hazard on
a remote trail shared by ornery creatures with five foot legs and a
four month hunger. On the other hand, one can drive ten or twenty
miles faster per hour along the flats most of the time which is
always a plus on a long commute, and it is the only viable route for
heavy loads and long supplies, like pipes and boards. My husband
often drives TO town (with an empty load) along a woodsy route that
is 12 miles and an hour shorter, even at slower speeds. Returning
home with a heavy load, he takes a flatter route which is longer. Empty,
he can get home in 3.5 hours. A full load decreases speed, increases
caution and duration, up to 5 hours. Sometimes, he has to dump a load to get up a hill.
Small,
nimble recreational snow machiners leave trails that are arbitrary,
cris-crossing the landscape like fly casting patterns. But the ones
we favor for our utilitarian purposes of hauling goods from town to
the cabin are more permanent. The trails are marked by small, metal
reflective quadrangles nailed into trees every once in a while. But
since trees fall and die, the trail is supplemented in winter, with
flagging tape tied to branches. Across treeless areas, wooden stakes
are marked with flagging ribbons and reflective tape. Some parts of
the trails, particularly along major rivers and within about two
hours of a town, are maintained by snow machining and mushing clubs
and by the nearest municipality or lodge as a regional recreational
area. Other trails, particularly remote ones, are maintained by the
local residents. In good visibility, well used trails are easy to
see, but in flat light, snow storms or after a heavy snow, one can
see only the upcoming vertical marker or tree square. As a back up
precaution, my husband has recorded the two trails that connect at
our cabin on a portable GPS unit that he carries with him. In our
vicinity, at least, the driving protocol is to keep the stakes to our
right when we are heading from our cabin to town, and keep the stakes
to our left when we are returning. In this way, we will stay on the
hard surface and not tip over into soft, unpacked snow.
Maintenance
is a bit like building a seasonal road and then snow plowing it. As
water surfaces like rivers, lakes, and bogs freeze, people need to
first check how thick the ice is. Then one can travel across them
for the first time in many months! Yea! Mobility! Bogs and still,
shallow lakes freeze first, followed by deeper lakes and moving
rivers. At this point, one can walk across those surfaces but they
still need snow, for the eponymous snowmobile. Locals know where
underwater springs are located, and often denote holes of open water
with a tall pair of crossed sticks.
Once
snow starts to accumulate, interested parties can break trails. This
requires some repeat conditioning. One needs to pack down a path in
the snow so it will harden and thicken to support more weight than
the soft surface on either side. This generally requires two trips:
a first one to pack down the soft snow, a lag of a day or two for
that to freeze hard, and then a second trip to pack it down further.
Some people groom trails after every appreciable snowfall. Others
groom shortly before a race or outing or hauling trip. For remote
people like us, a snow groomer is a useful attachment that trails
behind the snow machine. This passive, fence-like contraption can
chop off icy boulders, fill in the pits of moose footfalls, and
smooth out dips that would otherwise feel like a washboard across
straight aways or be a steep and treacherous impediment for a trailer
full of cement blocks or for novice riders. Throughout the hauling
season (February and March), my husband and I will often take a
Sunday afternoon picnic to a spot an hour or so down the trail. With
that timing, we follow any weekend hot doggers who may have eroded
the smooth parts of the trail a day or so before my husband plans a
weekday trek for heavy supplies. But another reason for these
slower, shorter jaunts is the opportunity it gives my husband to
enjoy a pretty stretch that otherwise just represents a blur at the
beginning or end of long, exhausting days for him. After all, we
live here partly for the sheer beauty of the place. It is important
to notice it.
Last
weekend we tried to combine both utility and pleasure in an outing.
Armed with a picnic of tea and pumpkin bread, we drove on our two
snow machines (plus a groomer on mine and a sled on his) about an
hour to a river's edge. It is a pretty spot, but the reason we
stopped there was because several days before, Bryan had been unable
to ascend a steep, icy stretch from the river basin to the ridge with
two pallet loads of supplies, each weighing about 750 lbs. We had
to go retrieve one he had abandoned in the snow. He had gotten a
“Man Up! Your machine can take all that weight” sort of speech
from the delivery man. However, what we learned that day is that
engine capacity is but one element of a successful haul. Another is
the condition and angle of the worst segment of the trail. Stuck
about one hour from town and two hours from home, afraid of burning
out the motor, Bryan was unable to lever the top pallet load off the
sled and dreaded cutting the packaging to unload each element one by
one. What to do?
Fortuitously,
two snow machiners happened along. Perhaps because they were good
Samaritans or perhaps because Bryan's load was blocking the trail,
they helped him push the top pallet off into the soft snow beside the
trail, waited for him to retie the lower load, and helped nudge him
up past the icy patch to an open meadow, at which point they were
able to zoom around him.
On our
return trip a few days later, we painstakingly unwrapped and re-
loaded 6 cement blocks, 11 – 12 foot dock boards, two 8 foot
wooden posts, 8 metal fence posts, and 6 - 32 quart bags of
Miracle-Gro that lay in such soft snow that my feet sank to my knees
and I had to pull myself up to the hardened path on one knee to pass
materials to Bryan. Once loaded, we ratcheted down about 6 cables to
hold everything snugly for a bumpy ride ahead. Alas, after all that
work, we could not ascend the icy path even with only one pallet load
this time. The big machine couldn't get any traction, and my smaller
machine couldn't haul the larger plus the sled weight. Over the
course of two hours, we unloaded first 1/3 of the weight, tried to
leave, then 2/3 of the weight, tried again, and finally headed home
with a mere 4 boards, weighing a grand total of about 100 lbs. At
least we had two intact machines! But now what?
The
third element of a successful haul is weather. We had to wait for
the weather to change. Several days later, it snowed heavily for a
night and day, covering the ice with about 7 inches of snow and
adding some light texture, as well. My husband headed back, this
time with a stronger companion than I, to finally bring everything
home. Will all this effort be worth it? We'll know that when we
start to build the fuel depot and dock extension, which is what the
whole commute was for in the first place.
