A weekend or two ago, I traveled to Dryden to do some snowshoeing on the FLT (map M19 if you're keeping track). It was a PERFECT day. The sun was shining, and although the wind was blowing, I wasn't exposed in fields for very long to find it to be a problem. I did about a loop about 7 or 8 miles long, most of it breaking new trail in about 18-24 inches of snow. The highlight of the trip was the descent down to Daisy Hollow Road, which is described as follows:
I took a few slugs of water, ate my last miniature box of raisins, and found a way across without falling into the creek. There were ropes conveniently affixed to trees on the far bank, but they were frozen in place leaving me to climb up not-so-gracefully. When I looked back at the creek, the size of the creek became more obvious, and it was far less daunting then I made it to be before the crossing.
Yesterday I went out again, this time to Danby, south of Ithaca. There was very little snow on the ground, so the snowshoes stayed in the trunk. Hiked from Jennings Pond to Michigan Hollow, and started the Abbott Loop. One of these days, I will do the entire loop, but this time was an abbreviated one, picking up Bald Hill Road on the southern crossing, and following the road back to my car. Another cool, sunny day in the woods, puts my mind at ease. Lunch was PB&J on a ridge overlooking West Danby, which was peaceful and relaxing and let my body cool down a bit after the hike up this particular ridge.
Both of these adventures have me wondering... Why do I enjoy this? In both cases, I am basically walking. From one random point to another, where often the destination is the same as my origin, since that's where the car is parked. But there's no goal in mind, other than to clear my head. There's certainly nothing I can show for my hike, and no large problems solved. Heck, there's seldom even small problems solved.
And yet, these trips are infinitely more enjoyable than "easier" walks I could take. Without them, I'd likely go crazy.
After steep descent, reach Rowland Creek (1400'). Crossing is difficult during high water. Junction with orange Spanish Loop Trail on right creating a 5.5 mi. loop (see map inset).Well, steep descents in snowshoes are always interesting. But this was relatively uneventful, once I was able to navigate the fallen tree across both ends of a switchback. The problem was the creek. I heard it burbling, but couldn't tell where the shore ended and the creek began, nor the relative depth of the creek. This meant the thickness of the ice was of utmost importance, but I couldn't get a reasonable guesstimate. That I heard it so clearly made me think the ice was relatively thin. To make matters more interesting, there embankment on the far side was about a three-foot tall ledge, not a gentle slope such as I was standing on.
I took a few slugs of water, ate my last miniature box of raisins, and found a way across without falling into the creek. There were ropes conveniently affixed to trees on the far bank, but they were frozen in place leaving me to climb up not-so-gracefully. When I looked back at the creek, the size of the creek became more obvious, and it was far less daunting then I made it to be before the crossing.
Yesterday I went out again, this time to Danby, south of Ithaca. There was very little snow on the ground, so the snowshoes stayed in the trunk. Hiked from Jennings Pond to Michigan Hollow, and started the Abbott Loop. One of these days, I will do the entire loop, but this time was an abbreviated one, picking up Bald Hill Road on the southern crossing, and following the road back to my car. Another cool, sunny day in the woods, puts my mind at ease. Lunch was PB&J on a ridge overlooking West Danby, which was peaceful and relaxing and let my body cool down a bit after the hike up this particular ridge.
Both of these adventures have me wondering... Why do I enjoy this? In both cases, I am basically walking. From one random point to another, where often the destination is the same as my origin, since that's where the car is parked. But there's no goal in mind, other than to clear my head. There's certainly nothing I can show for my hike, and no large problems solved. Heck, there's seldom even small problems solved.
And yet, these trips are infinitely more enjoyable than "easier" walks I could take. Without them, I'd likely go crazy.
