The week started with a dry and crisp 4.5-mile hike on Monday, followed by a 5-mile hike on Tuesday morning, which featured the unofficial arrival of winter to mid-Michigan. There was little to no rejoicing.
I jest, of course; I don’t mind winter for a bit, especially after two weeks of hiking through a forest composed of various shades of brown and nothing to see but dead plants, fallen leaves, and bare trees. The fresh snow at least provides some visual and creative stimulation. Having said that, by the end of March, I will most likely be looking to get on a waiting list for a new liver, and Wifey will be giving me homemade ECT with a toaster and a bathtub.
Despite the wet falling snow and cold temps, it was nice to be out in the woods with my camera getting some miles in. Of course, I got completely ghosted by two different passing hikers as I said hello, which proves that passing hikers can be rude pricks just as much as passing roadies when out cycling.
TIME OUT! I gotta go get a hike in and get shit done.
I’m back.
I got out to Deerfield for a hike in about 3 inches or so of wet, mashed potato snow. There wasn’t enough snow on most trails for snowshoes and with hiking shoes, it took just a bit more effort to get through trails with fresh snow without my feet slipping back. It reminded me of the time I tried to arouse Wifey by doing the “running man” on the silk sheets of our hotel bed while wearing nothing but my Top Gun-approved undies and a pair of fleece socks. OK, that never happened, but I imagine it would have a similar degree of difficulty.
Soft snow and snow fleas if you look close.
With the extra effort, I thought I’d dial back today’s mileage to a simple 3-mile loop; however, once I got in the groove, I plowed on for 4.5 miles and now need just 10 miles to reach my weekly 25-mile minimum of woodsy walking.
Side note: As I entered the final half mile of today’s stomp, I saw a bald eagle flying over at the river from a distance, and it was definitely gripping some breakfast in its talons! I would have loved to have gotten a closer look.
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That’s it (other than the unneeded shit below).
Later.
SOILED SOUNDS TRACK OF THE POST:
Most people know that I have a music loving history that started with my older brother’s metal collection (Maiden, Judas Priest, Rush), then morphed into my own metal collection (Metallica, Anthrax, etc.), and then onto 80s alternative, new wave, post-punk, punk, garage rock, glam, Brit pop, and indie. What can I say? I listen to a lot of music.
So today, I want to give a special long howling scream into the mic for stoner metal band, The Sword, who, after nearly 20 years, have apparently called it quits. Also, the first snows of the season always remind me of their album, Age of Winters, and my favorite song from that LP, Winter’s Wolves.
The Sword is/was one of those bands that metalheads, potheads, and indie music snobs can nearly all agree on, and I kick myself for not finding them until roughly 2011-ish and for never seeing them live.
The Sword’s music is wonderfully heavy, and their lyrics are grandiose sci-fi meets Tolkien with a twist of Philip K. Dick. In other words, you can easily find yourself happily singing, or at least nodding along to, lyrics like,
“I would mount your heads on the bloody spears
Outside your palace gates
And watch as crows peck out your eyes
And your cities are laid to waste” — Winter’s Wolves, The Sword
I have to admit that I experience much joy pulling into our neighborhood with The Sword booming from my car as I give out neighborly waves while simultaneously fantasizing about lopping heads off with a well-honed battle axe [Relax, I don’t own a battle-axe]. Hearing B pull into the driveway with 21 Savage bumping from the 2008 Subaru Forester brings me a similar joy. What can I say? I listen to a lot of music AND enjoy disturbing middle-class shit.
The Sword is no more. Long live The Sword!!