I hear the South wind howling tonight and realize that winter is over. The display on the wall says it has been 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5.5 degrees Celsius) all night.
Where I live, it takes me only one hour total, round trip, to go cross-country skiing along a nearby trail system by the Bear River in southwest Wyoming. I only need a two or three-hour window of time to go ice fishing, too, since I go simple and the place I go is only a five-minute drive away from where I live. Yet, I found little time for either this season, even though I carried the gear for both around in my truck all winter. Last year, I told several friends I’d take them ice fishing since they want to go and have no gear, and I have more than enough to share. I looked forward to it, but it never happened.
I just haven't had the time. Those of you who follow my fiction publication here on Substack, Anomaly know a good part of the reason why I haven’t been out much this winter. Other parts of my life have contributed, too.
Usually, I ski twice a week (sometimes thrice) every week when there is snow to ski on. I like to make it a crucial part of my yearly physical fitness regimen. This winter, I went a total of twice. You heard me right. I have taken no time to fit even that hour in the gaps between the needs of work and home and have grown fat because of it. The snow was light, and I fell hard the second time I went and damaged a ski shoe. I didn't find time to repair it for a month and a half. Then the snow melted off, and even after it returned, I never got back to it.
As for fishing, normally I do that once a week after work, and sometimes on Saturday, for the entire time that the ice is safe on the reservoir five minutes from where I live. I was able to go twice this year, but those were spontaneous snapshots with no opportunity to coordinate with anyone else. In the four total hours that I spent on the ice all winter, I caught only two fish, one after the other, and the rest of the time I rarely even saw one on my scope.
We’ve had too much warm weather for too many days, so I no longer trust the ice along the edges. Reservoirs in these desert places start to refill as the snow melts. This floats the ice, floods it, and softens the edges so you can't get to it even if you still have fabulous, 2-foot-thick ice in late winter and early spring.
It’s been so warm that I've already gone fly fishing on the river twice this year.
So, over the weekend, I gave up and put it all in storage for the season—skis and sled—time to look forward to the sweet-smelling spring and cool, comfortable summers. Every morning, when I step outside, it feels and smells like I just stepped out of a tent on a campout in the mountains. Now that I’m on Substack, I might start a publication about Wyoming Outdoor Recreation.
I saw geese at the ice ponds last week. I took a photo from inside the van to avoid startling them. Around here, they are the first sign of spring.
When I see goslings, I’ll send photos of them as well.
What an evocative photo!