If The Snow Shoe Fits

The forecast called for frigid beauty.

It was a sunny day with bright white snow under a clear blue sky
and only a gentle wind, so most of the snow remains on the branches.
Can you think of any better contrast?

The amount becomes "significant"
when the snow on the railing is higher than it is wide.

Yep, gotta get out there to enjoy the winter beauty.

Snow and ice and everything nice.

Red, white, and blue, with a little green added
for the Italian-Americans.

The ice was probably frozen harder away from the edge
where the snow had insulated the flow from the recent cold.
FYI, snowshoes coated with ice are really, really heavy.

It's good to have a warm place to return to
after being outside in single Fahrenheit digits,
even if one warms up from walking in weighted shoes.

Later that same day,
over the still-open channel,
the reverse sunset illuminate the tops of the trees.

In the opposite direction, all that whiteness turns golden.

And the sky is no longer blue.

Wonderland

Stratford is a township in the northwest corner of New York's Fulton County.  It covers about 77 square miles of the earth's surface, and supports 640 full time residents.  8 people per square mile.  Less in the colder months, since many of the locals do what they can to spend time in warmer places.

The population density is even more astounding when considering that Stratford is a 4 hour drive from the Bedford-Stuyvesant neighborhood in Brooklyn.  That's assuming the arrival or departure from downstate is near 3 AM, to minimize the travel-limiting effects of the 38,000 or so people per square mile found there.

Roughly 1300 feet higher than Lake Ontario to the west, like most of the Adirondacks, the town collects moisture from the lake and from regional storms in the form of snow.  Lots of it.  As one drives up from the lowlands, the weather changes significantly, the snowbanks grow, and you enter Wonderland.

The open spaces beckon, but Wonderland is mostly  in the woods.

Welcome to Wonderland.

Up the hill and into the woods
on skis or snowshoes,
depending on preferences and conditions.

Choose a direction.
It really doesn't matter.
Don't worry about getting lost on such a nice day.
Follow your tracks or the sun to get back home.

Hardwoods, 

or Hemlocks?

We'll explore both.

Curls of the paper birch bark catch the snow.

Slim trimmed limbs grace this space.

Not only is a grove of mature hemlocks a visual delight,
the snow caught in the limbs blots out sounds
to make for a rare total silence.

A gust catches the tall top of a nearby lifeless trunk.
The silence is broken by an ominous creaking.
Look up and look out, Mary!

Lattice work created by the big wind a day before.

Mushrooms and driven snow
hugging the same tree.

Someone else was here first.
Perhaps a fisher,
or a porcupine dragging his belly through the snow.

Quite pretty, these small hemlocks, thick at the edge of a swamp.
After the 3rd failed attempt,
it was determined that going around
was preferred to going through.

Time to follow the sun back home.

Almost there, we see a sign of human activity.
Thank goodness snowshoeing and skiing are not mentioned,
and that we forgive those who trespass against us.

Back home, one realizes that
even the edges of the dwellings
are conscripted for Wonderland.

But some just don't care.

On Top of a Small Portion of the World

Kane is one of the nearby mountains.  It has appeal beyond just the workout it takes to get to the top, since there is a fire tower that provides an opportunity for a good visual assessment of the lay of the land.

Mary and I donned our snowshoes and signed in at the trailhead.  We might have done without the shoes since the trail was unexpectedly well packed, but experience informs that using the shoes unnecessarily is far superior to getting halfway in and needing them.

On a "why didn't I think of that?" note, there were tracks all the way from the top where someone had used a saucer or some other type of lightweight sled to make short work and great fun of the descent.  A descendent of a bobsledder, no doubt.

Just outside the Center For Vandalism and Graffiti, formerly known as the Ranger Cabin.
Upon seeing the dwelling, and conjuring how it appeared in bygone days,
 one can't help but ponder the lifestyle of these hardy souls.

Mary moves to better appreciate the lakes spread out below.
Due to the lack of obscuring foliage,
the view is a treat for those disliking the height of the fire tower.

The way the lakes wrap around the mountain is invisible during warmer months.

Not so bad at this low level,
the ice completely covers the steps and handrails
as one climbs higher.

Do not worry, icy wires will retain you.

At the top, the tower provides magnificent views.
Look to the north across Pine Lake to the rugged country beyond.
100 feet short of the "High Peak" designation,
Snowy Mountain is in the distance on the right.

Beyond the ice-clad branches, one can see the dual ridges of Camelhump to the East.

The southernly look shows more of the hand of man.
Beyond Green Lake, shrouded on the left,
and the southern reaches of Canada Lake below Sheeley Mounain
lies the distant Mohawk River Valley.

Coincidentally, West lake is on the right this western view.
Dolgeville point separates it from Canada lake.
Small Mud lake is in the foreground, and Lily Lake farthest away.

Though the snowmobiles race across Canada and West Lakes, 

the channel is open downstream into Lily Lake and again at its outlet.

Beyond, the channel winds around behind the ridge to the right,

obscuring the location of our abode.

Central NY shows through the haze, with Minnesota just beyond.

 

The tower also provides philosophy.

It's always an ice storm on the mountaintop.

But the icy trees can't stop Mary.
In fact, the icy barrier makes Mary merrier.

Time to head down!

The Trifecta

The first day, there was enough snow to ski.  Mary and I took advantage of the opportunity.

Lots of snow in the air makes for and off-white day.
The low mountains beyond are invisible.
Skiing across the lake is not an option.

Far enough for this day.

The second day, there was a lot more snow.  Mary and I took advantage of the conditions with our snowshoes.

Mary is in great shape and not afraid of breaking trail uphill,
which was not for the faint of heart with all that snow.
It was more like corn meal than powder,
spilling onto the top of the snowshoes with every step.

This still life is called,
"Snow-laden hemlock with old guy."

There she goes!.
Time to put the damn camera away and catch up.

The third day, we hit the trifecta.  Copious snow, bitter cold, and high wind.

The lake was completely frozen,
with the wind driving the sub-zero air and abrasive snow crystals
 across the open expanse.
A great day to be alive!

"There is no bad weather," I declared.
"Only bad clothing!"
Attired for the cold, I was ready to go skiing.
"You're nuts!" declared Mary.

The chickadees did not impugn my sanity.
The feeder was filled prior to skiing.

They waited patiently as I finished the job
before I set out, upwind along the lake shore.
Into the wind first is a good policy.
Best to come home with the icy wind at your back.

The goal was the point about 3/4 of a mile away.
Almost there, this is the path to the interior.
The shelter of the trees was appreciated.
Even good mittens can produce thumbsicles!

Can't be sure about the thermometer reading,
but it wasn't far off.

The hemlocks on the edge of the clearing
made reaching the goal worthwhile.

Heading back on the broken trail was a breeze.
30 MPH is much better on your back.

Back out on the frozen lake, a short pause provided an observation. The ridges of the drifted snow perfectly matched the undulations of the low-hanging clouds, as both receded into the distance.

I don't think he noticed.