December ...

Cody and I trekked out into the Bob Marshall, Glacier’s dog park, to hike to Stanton Lake last weekend. I was psyched to use my new show shoes. I got to the trailhead, strapped them on, walk-waddled about fifty awkward feet, took them off, and lashed them to my pack. So much for snowshoeing. With the recent warm daytime temperatures and overnight re-freezing, repeat, repeat, repeat, and no new snow since Thanksgiving day, it wasn’t so much hiking in snow as walking on top of two feet of ice. But my awesome, new show shoes sure looked cool strapped to my pack. So there was that. It was a good hike. It was cold, around ten. Cody's fur wasn't holding up as well as my Gortex jacket. Our quest for a dog coat that fits continues. Get in the game, Tail Wagger’s. I give you one more week until I eBay it instead! I drank a lot of coffee to stay warm. The hike was nice and easy; someone who had snowshoed when the snow was still new and powdery beat a good path for us. For the last mile we followed mountain lion tracks. Cody was my lion bait ...


I got one blurry, non-descript photo before my camera froze and refused to work. Maybe you should have been there? I swear that's Stanton Lake.

We really took our time and turned a six-mile hike into a five-hour jaunt. I’m still learning to slow down -- a December hike doesn't necessarily have to translate to fitness for bike racing in April, idiot.

On the way home I made my first Saturday night stop of the season at The Belton, recipient my prestigious "Favorite Bar in America" award (sorry Rock Room), for live music and the best food. As always, it delivered: A decent bluegrass trio and the best Reuben I’ve ever had.

I mailed my twelve-year-old snowboard boots and bindings to myself from New Jersey. As soon as I find a cheap board at one of the many sporting good consignment shops in the Valley, Big Mountain (no life ticket necessary) will be mine! My show shoes will hopefully be more practical then. Vertical travel!

K-9 Keg-Pull ...

Nothing never truer than Cody and some other dog goofing around on the brewery floor, dog-owners telling frowning brewery-owner not to worry, 'cause, "It's cool, they're both house-trained." Dog is my co-pilot. Later, drunk, we chucked heavy, wet snowballs at the two-story brick wall across the bar patio. They made a phumpf when they hit they wall, then half stuck, half fell. I told her that accuracy isn't so much strength as it's all in the form. She mentioned Nashville, passingly, among her laundry list of places lived. "Marry me, leave Kentucky--." "Come to Tennessee," she said. "You are the only ten I see."

How did Cody do? He didn't. They yelled "Go!", he sat on his ass and licked his paws.

How did I do? I had the most fun I've had in months.