Anywhere outside.

 
Wally the Wonderdog waits while I take pictures.

I opted to strap on the touring skis and poke around the forest service property just a half mile up the road.

The main trails have all been compacted by snowmobiles, which flock up here by the dozens, but unlike the "I don’t know where I’m going but I’m getting there at 40 mph" snowmobiles, I can head off into the trees any time I want.

With several feet of snow bogging the Wonderdog, the trick was finding snow crusty enough to support his weight, which meant keeping to the denser tree stands where the snow had melted, fallen off the branches, and re-frozen.

At one point, I skied from a "plantation" (a tree farm where the trees are planted in nice, neat rows) into wild forest, and the difference in the number of animal tracks was stunning.

It was a graphic lesson in the biodiversity of "real" woodlands versus the neatly managed kind, and there’s little more interesting than snooping around the animal tracks you see in the snow.

After I positively identified some tracks in our own backyard as coming from an animal which doesn’t even live on this continent (rugged mountain guy that I am), the L&T and I dug out one of our guidebooks, so I feel safe in saying I saw squirrel, deer, rabbit and coyote tracks, and I’m pretty sure there were some foxes too, though those were faint.

The Wonderdog goes wild over animal tracks, sniffing each and every trail as if cataloging the scents for later use. He’s not hip, or smart (in fact, he’s pretty goofy), but the Wonderdog is filled with the joy of life, and seeing him in this setting is as reviving as the ski trip itself.

Black Butte pokes its head above the trees.

It’s snowing as I write this, and with a good six inches forecast, I’ll be busy fighting the snow wars again today.

Wednesday, however, is a different story; the snow shouldn’t fall and clouds are forecast, so if the river doesn’t rise too much, that could mean a trip to BWO Land — either by road or skis.

I’ll keep you posted. See you on the river, Tom Chandler.