How can Winter Moss be so green and lively ~ in the icy waters of this mountain stream?
We took a hike up into the snows of the Little Known Trail. Deep in a narrow canyon, on private property, laden with no trespassing signs Bad Dog and I have ignored for years.
Check out the odd name, Clance McDonald, growing as raised wooden letters, from the trunk of this ancient tree.
In fact, after all these years of seeing so many footprints up here we've pretty much determined that the No Trespassing! signs are merely an update on the rich old fart who owns this canyon.
Clearly he's the only one who never finds time to trespass in this magical, spooky place.
Dark, cold trails don't make for great photos. They are an experience of sounds vs. sight.
Winds whistling through the tops of the Limber Pines.
The quiet trickle of melting snow. Icy waters rumbling over rocks in the swollen stream.
And, the unexpected melody of a wind chime.
Farther up the trail we discovered the source. This is new. A Prayer Tree laden with necklaces, chimes and baubles.
Bad Dog is a big boy. He prefers to leap over the fallen trees I have trouble with ~ I am bigger than him so that bugs me. Though he is a great hiking companion, in it for the sheer thrill of discovering what's around the next bend. And, so is the other member of our Friday Afternoon Club.
Up and up we hiked. Sloshing through mud, into snow, gingerly stepping from flat rock to flat rock when crossing icy streams.
Were I a better friend I might have warned Valley Girl KC that those trail running shoes of hers are outlawed this high up in the snowy mountains. But, then we wouldn't have had such a good laugh when she hit a patch of ice and landed on her arse.
Frigid temps make us more active. This was our longest and hardest hike yet.
These jaunts continue to be my saving grace as I adjust to the seasonal end of my gardening days. And, with the invention of the Friday Afternoon [hiking] Club, I'm finding a whole new me waking up inside the old me.