Fog Dispersed
We had overnight rain again last night, but by the time we were ready to go up to bed, the sky was beginning to clear, the cloud cover breaking up. And when we got downstairs this morning the fog had dissipated and the sun was out, although there were still plenty of clouds up there. And the ambient temperatures still mild; starting out the day at plus-8, in fact.
It seemed really peculiar to be able to see clearly, without the veil of fog we’d somehow become accustomed to. Because the weather forecast warned of more rain, we decided to go out to the ravine for our walk right after breakfast, to beat the rain. It’s amazing how much of the snow pack has gone, now. Although we still have a substantial amount of snow left, sufficient to make a good cushion for what we’re likely to receive throughout the balance of the winter - which is, in fact, most of the winter.
Treading along the trails was pretty tricky, even more so than it has been the last few days, given the snow melt and the necessity to walk a fairly narrow track of well-pounded snow. And even the firmness there has begun to relent. Although because the temperatures will now begin to drop steadily as the day progressed, we knew that wouldn’t last, and we’d soon be facing icier conditions. The pools of dirty water appearing beside the trail would soon glaze over.
The creek was something else again. Wide, fairly high and darkly roiling, rushing over all the impediments on the creek bed with an accompanying sound of wild water making its inexorable way through to its connections downstream. While the creek looked similar yesterday, in fairly full flood, it was even more so today. And, glad to say, while it smelled rather awful from marsh-gassy-type odours then, today it did not at all.
And the wind! Normal gusts to 60 km, kicking up a lot more than that from time to time. It chugged like a steam locomotive through the tops of the trees and sounded as though it might swallow us whole. The tops of trees swayed wickedly, whipped by the frantic motion the wind caused, and I felt very aware that it verged on foolishness to be out there surrounded by trees, in these unusual weather conditions.
We did come across a few other walkers with their dogs, and they weren’t too thrilled with the prospect of being bonked over the head by falling branches, so they swiftly made their way out again, after an initial, brief foray and assessment. At the start of our circuit, just before reaching the first bridge going to the left, there was the first casualty, a fairly tall tree that was once a live poplar, but long dead, and long standing - until now.
Remarkably, because it must surely have been rotten, having been dead for years, it didn’t crack under the pressure of the high winds; instead the whole thing just toppled over, taking a sizeable rootball of earth with it, the top portion crossing the trail just before the bridge. Being hit anywhere on one's body, let alone the head, would spell certain disaster, and given the number of unhealthy specimens among all the forest trees there, the potential for several being lopped by the wind as we struggled along was fairly high.
After that we saw a few limbs littering the wet snow on the ground - of green and healthy pine trees, oddly enough, along with branches falling from long-dead trees - casualties likely of the 1998 ice storm. Which itself arrived just about this same time of year a decade ago. We heard loud cracks from time to time, making me even more nervous; obviously the result of trees succumbing to the force of the wind.
And we saw quite a few tree trunks toppled; immature, unhealthy birch trees for the most part. I was more than a little glad when we finally completed our walk and out we came. Really the sound of the wind hurtling through the trees was amazingly loud and overwhelming. Another adventure in our wonderful accessible, life-enhancing ravine. Nothing untoward occurring, and the phenomenon of weather witnessed more than a little fascinating.
We saw crows flying high above the waving, clacking treetops, and I don’t ever recall seeing this before, but they appeared to bring their wings up close beside their bodies and just seemed to surrender themselves to the force of the wind. As a kind of enjoyable free ride, a recreational treat, wings neatly folded and bodies bullet-like, whipping along with the wind offering speed and direction.
And then rain began pelting down, it too driven by the wind.
It seemed really peculiar to be able to see clearly, without the veil of fog we’d somehow become accustomed to. Because the weather forecast warned of more rain, we decided to go out to the ravine for our walk right after breakfast, to beat the rain. It’s amazing how much of the snow pack has gone, now. Although we still have a substantial amount of snow left, sufficient to make a good cushion for what we’re likely to receive throughout the balance of the winter - which is, in fact, most of the winter.
Treading along the trails was pretty tricky, even more so than it has been the last few days, given the snow melt and the necessity to walk a fairly narrow track of well-pounded snow. And even the firmness there has begun to relent. Although because the temperatures will now begin to drop steadily as the day progressed, we knew that wouldn’t last, and we’d soon be facing icier conditions. The pools of dirty water appearing beside the trail would soon glaze over.
The creek was something else again. Wide, fairly high and darkly roiling, rushing over all the impediments on the creek bed with an accompanying sound of wild water making its inexorable way through to its connections downstream. While the creek looked similar yesterday, in fairly full flood, it was even more so today. And, glad to say, while it smelled rather awful from marsh-gassy-type odours then, today it did not at all.
And the wind! Normal gusts to 60 km, kicking up a lot more than that from time to time. It chugged like a steam locomotive through the tops of the trees and sounded as though it might swallow us whole. The tops of trees swayed wickedly, whipped by the frantic motion the wind caused, and I felt very aware that it verged on foolishness to be out there surrounded by trees, in these unusual weather conditions.
We did come across a few other walkers with their dogs, and they weren’t too thrilled with the prospect of being bonked over the head by falling branches, so they swiftly made their way out again, after an initial, brief foray and assessment. At the start of our circuit, just before reaching the first bridge going to the left, there was the first casualty, a fairly tall tree that was once a live poplar, but long dead, and long standing - until now.
Remarkably, because it must surely have been rotten, having been dead for years, it didn’t crack under the pressure of the high winds; instead the whole thing just toppled over, taking a sizeable rootball of earth with it, the top portion crossing the trail just before the bridge. Being hit anywhere on one's body, let alone the head, would spell certain disaster, and given the number of unhealthy specimens among all the forest trees there, the potential for several being lopped by the wind as we struggled along was fairly high.
After that we saw a few limbs littering the wet snow on the ground - of green and healthy pine trees, oddly enough, along with branches falling from long-dead trees - casualties likely of the 1998 ice storm. Which itself arrived just about this same time of year a decade ago. We heard loud cracks from time to time, making me even more nervous; obviously the result of trees succumbing to the force of the wind.
And we saw quite a few tree trunks toppled; immature, unhealthy birch trees for the most part. I was more than a little glad when we finally completed our walk and out we came. Really the sound of the wind hurtling through the trees was amazingly loud and overwhelming. Another adventure in our wonderful accessible, life-enhancing ravine. Nothing untoward occurring, and the phenomenon of weather witnessed more than a little fascinating.
We saw crows flying high above the waving, clacking treetops, and I don’t ever recall seeing this before, but they appeared to bring their wings up close beside their bodies and just seemed to surrender themselves to the force of the wind. As a kind of enjoyable free ride, a recreational treat, wings neatly folded and bodies bullet-like, whipping along with the wind offering speed and direction.
And then rain began pelting down, it too driven by the wind.
Labels: Environment, Perambulations
posted by Pieface @ 1:45 PM
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