As a born and bred northerner, frozen brown, snowless winters have a detrimental effect on my mental well-being. In the past few weeks, it’s either been warm and damp and foggy–which holds its down beauty–or just cold and brown.
When I woke this morning, there was a curious glow coming through the curtains–the glow of predawn light reflecting off a covering of snow that hadn’t been there the night before. It was but a dusting, but everything’s now white and things are right with the world. Given that, there’s no way that I wasn’t going to get out on the fat-bike for some kind of ride while the snow was still fresh and untracked–because there’s nothing better than making fresh tracks in pristine, unmarked snow.
There’s a city park not far from my house that sits partially on a massive hill and the woods are shot through with both hiking trails and municipal disc golf course. With the latter closed for the winter and a bit of snow, it makes for fine fat-biking as well as an interval workout.
But most importantly, it’s just riding in the snowy woods.