Despite having fully enjoyed both skiing and snow-hiking for much of January and February this year, I must confess that now, in early March, I have a powerful hankering for spring. Heavy snowfall notwithstanding, since mid-February there have been several encouraging signs of our impending spring; 1) the sun’s trajectory is shifting from winter’s low southerly arc to noticeably higher in the sky, thereby allowing the sun to actually melt ice even when temperatures are still below freezing; 2) the Red-winged Blackbirds have transitioned from their strident group calls to other vocalizations that are more musical and indicate their eagerness to begin setting up territories; 3) the earliest buds have begun to appear here and there on certain types of trees and shrubs; and 4) my prevailing mood is one of restlessness.

Perhaps that is why when I awoke this morning I was atypically careless and inadvertently started my day with a string of minor annoyances. First, there was my dropping the freshly opened coffee can onto the kitchen floor and having to spend precious time cleaning up the mess. Then, when the coffee was finally made and I went to add some cream, I managed to slosh the cream past the cup and all over the countertop. Yes, it was only spilt milk and I wasn’t about to cry about it, but still, it was aggravating and I must confess to having muttered a sharp curse or two. When I finally had my first cup of Joe ready and had enjoyed a few tentative sips, I walked to one of my windows, flipped a switch that turns on an outdoor light, and saw that we were getting more snow. Granted, it was only flurries, but still, I didn’t want said flurries to dash my plans to go hiking with Gary.

Because it was still quite early, I decided I would wait till the sun was up before I called Gary to see if he still wanted to take a hike. A few days ago, when the forecast had suggested that today would be reasonably pleasant, Gary and I had discussed whether we wanted to head to the high country and take a shorter hike in the snow, or, if we should drop down in elevation and hike where there was less snow but possibly plenty of mud. We decided to attempt the latter option.

As things turned out, when Gary and I met at the lower elevation trailhead (a mere 6200 feet in elevation) there was both snow and mud; but, we were both hungry for a good ramble and figured that the patches of snow would work fine for cleaning the mud off our boots, as needed. We opted to take the shorter of the two available loops since both of us have experienced juniper country substrates when they are damp, and know how tiring it can be to hike when the clay soils cake up on one’s soles.

After an initial short stretch of muddy hiking, the trail quickly began a gradual ascent and also became somewhat rocky, so the build-up of sticky clay on our boots wasn’t too onerous for the first few miles. The wind, however, was kicking up and it felt like the temperatures were dropping, instead of increasing as they usually do with the rising sun. Neither of us minded the cooling air though, as hiking uphill was strenuous and we were moving at a brisk clip.

Eventually, we reached the highest point of our route which was about 6600 feet in elevation. Despite the stiff breeze, we stopped to enjoy a stunning view of various knolls, nobs, and ridges that run from the Linden area onward to the northwest and our state’s tallest peaks near Flagstaff. In the opposite direction (looking southeasterly), we could easily see the mountain ranges that include Mount Baldy and the other high peaks that are part of the drainages of the Little Colorado River, the White River, and the Black River. In other words, we could essentially see much of the upper elevations that are the source for a sizeable quantity of the state’s water supply (the mighty Colorado River being the notable exception since it begins in other states to the north and east).

We headed down off of the pass and discussed various topics including our most recent Search and Rescue training (both Gary and I are volunteers with the SAR crew); our latest battles with sore knees, shoulders, and the other seemingly inevitable aches and pains that come with remaining active while in our “senior years;” and, the myriad observations we made pertaining to the natural world surrounding us on our hike. Because Gary is a working hydrologist and continues to take on contracted projects such as well drilling operations around the state, he is knowledgeable about both land and water – two of the foundations on which all of the life sciences hinge.

While the dominant vegetation remained fairly consistent (pinyon, juniper, and manzanita) the soils appeared to be changing and there was less rock and sand and more silt and clay. We were about halfway along on our hike when, no matter where we placed our boots, the ground began to stick to our Vibram soles like peanut butter. One can be prepared for the cold and the wind; for the climbing and descending of steep grades; but, there is nothing that can be done for the mud pies that clump up on one’s boots when hiking in this kind of terrain during damp weather.

Nonetheless, we knew before we had hit the trail that the chances were high for us to encounter such conditions, so, instead of complaining, we hiked onward and stopped frequently to scrape our boots against rocks and fallen logs. Occasionally, I would make the motion of an NFL punter and kick a big hunk of mud off of my boots and that was an especially gratifying experience since it resulted in an immediate decrease in the weight I had to lug around on my boots. What’s that old backpacker’s expression: a pound on one’s feet is equivalent to 5 pounds in one’s backpack.

Despite the wet and windy conditions, we did see plenty of birds, though most were of a few kinds; including scrub jays, juncos, robins, and ravens. At one point, Gary noticed a jay-sized bird perched atop a tall juniper and once we got closer, we identified it as a Loggerhead Shrike. The shrike didn’t seem to mind our presence and held his position on the treetop even when we passed quite close. My guess was that in winter, when there is less of his usual prey (insects and small lizards) the shrike is forced to shift his diet to the more difficult-to-capture mice and small birds. Maybe the shrike couldn’t be budged from his perch because he was focused on the entrance to a burrow into which he had recently seen a mouse plunge. Sometimes, nature study does allow for a certain amount of speculation.

After having our lunch at about the halfway point of our hike, we resumed our slog and made slow progress despite the fact that most of our walking was downgrade. We talked less now that we had to expend considerable effort traversing one section of sticky mud after another but we remained positive and enjoyed seeing many different tracks types in both patches of snow and in the damp soils. In addition to domestic cattle tracks, we also encountered the spore of deer, elk, rabbits, rodents, and coyotes. At one point, we spooked a pair of mule deer and as they bounded through the thick brush we were amazed by how quickly they could move through such heavy vegetation without making a sound.

When we finally made it back to the trailhead and our two trucks the weather was still cold and windy. We had hiked steadily (lunch excepted) and with great effort for over five hours but we were both smiling and happy to have made the journey. It had been a day filled with the dynamic influences of inanimate forces (wind and water) on other inanimate elements (rock and soil) and together they shaped the plants and animals that make a hike through the wild country so interesting. Best of all, I knew that Gary had been as engrossed in the natural world as I had been and that there was no chance that either of us had not fully enjoyed our experience, despite the harsh conditions.

 When two friends can persevere in the face of adversity and nobody grumbles or feels the need for recriminations, well, then you know that both individuals have placed their highest priorities on experiencing Nature in all her many moods – the challenging ones as well as those that are nearly effortless. On our next hike, however, I think both Gary and I will be ready for a sunny, mild day and we will definitely expect to hike on a substrate that doesn’t try to follow us home.