Month: December 2020

I am used to monitoring for storms, as oft noted, but it is for the usual that one is accustomed. How much snow will fall? When will the snow land? Will the snow be heavy and wet bonding to everything? Will it be icy? Pure fluff? Snow fall totals here are irrelevant; it is the wind that determines one’s totals, and has little to do with what actually falls upon your property.

After the prior storm, notably it was eighteen inches of fresh fluff, the drifts on the top of Powers and Schierl gained height daily, topping out at over five feet. Winds blew and blew and posted videos of migrating snow did not reveal that Powers was there destination, but it surely was a dropping point.

Most recently, I went to bed, settled now our most recent storm was over. Seven inches of fresh (un-bonded) powder landed during the storm, and by bed time, the walk ways were clear to the solar shed, the garage, and of course, the wood pile. Seven inches of fluff was not a big deal, but by the time my head hit the pillow, the wind was howling so what relocation might occur, I did not know.

I awoke yesterday to new drifts, but no new snow except what was transferred here by the wind. The yard, bare in places, now gone in others with drifts several feet deep. One drift circles two full sides of the cabin, whipping around the home all night long.

I may be here for a while; not only is Schierl Road buried in drifts, much like my home, the road bank blocked passage, creating a drop. At the moment, one side of the road is about three feet higher than the other, not fit for a track machine.

We might think it is part of what makes us human to take advantage. To study, examine, analyze and pick an opportunity that suits our needs and to utilize it, fully, to keep us dry, safe, warm, or mobile. At times I wonder what is us, the thinking us, and what just is.

All life seems to follow this tendency. The pack rats have discovered my wood piles make excellent, dry little houses to build nests within. The mice continually try to invade my warm inviting home amidst the snow, sleet and blistering winds. (One little bugger crawled up behind the wood stove for a nap, out of reach, but not out of sight.) There are rabbits living under the wood piles, safe from predators and weather. Something rodent-esque is enjoying the covered deck’s depths, mostly free from snow.

Most recently, the elk have realized that navigating the park is far easier on our packed machine tracks, and they are now traveling up and down Schierl as we humans like to do. No longer muscling up the four foot drifts, they are moving in herds upon a road that mostly holds them too, above this powdery fluff.

Footage of snow migration, moving across the valley to the south west.

It was relentless for many hours, and for long into the night.

A weekend excursion for fresh produce was planned, having been up here for a while. I thought I could get out, so let’s get out while the getting is good. The night before departure, my mountain top was in the clouds, so rising was mired in an icy coating unlike any I’ve seen. The rubber seals, now fully sealed, refused to yield and allow my cargo trailer to open; had I planned to take the quad, the trip would have ended right there.

Moon Bug had detached door trim upon opening, the ice too thoroughly infesting every possible path, and was rampant. Perhaps I left too early, the sun was upon the horizon, but not yet visible, nor able to offer any assistance to break such icy bonds.

Excited to go, I ventured down the mountain and the trip was uneventful, although one must steer adamantly with tracks to keep one’s way. Both hands on the wheel? Mandatory, not optional.

With too much snow, and too many drifts to take the Jeep all the way down, Moon Bug traversed the park for the first time, fully, on tracks. The truck was still there and started readily. Much scraping and a second full round of de-icing ensued.

The trip into Alamosa was uneventful yet bountiful. Upon the return run, I discovered the winds had been steadily, slowly, blowing upon the aforementioned snow-that-refuses-to-bond. Parts of my tracks, four hours later, were simply gone. This below image is Schierl Road, just past the Ortega Cabin, before the drop to Beck Place. Not much evidence I had crossed this ridge a few hours earlier.

I made it home, quite uneventfully and with many smiles, and was quite pleased over all. Salad now for two days in a row and a fresh organic stir fry planned for dinner.

Life is good.

Yesterday the sun was bright, but it’s been steadily below freezing since the last big storm. This is not snow I am familiar with; billions of particles that refuse to bond. If it does warm and build a crust on top? Danger of sinking will become prevalent. From what I’ve been told by many on the mountain, the solution is to maintain a track up and down, packing a base upon which you won’t sink further into.

The Jeep is parked nearly halfway down the park, at the junction of Kline and Borman. The ride down was interesting, a bit new, so the camera stayed in the bag, deciding to focus upon arrival without getting stuck. Arrival was easy, and loads of fun. I guess I left the Borman sign in the background as proof I arrived. Eight inches of snow there, compared to the three feet on the ground at home.

The way home will always be more challenging, being several hundreds of feet of elevation gain from Borman and Kline (it’s a four hundred foot climb simply from the Ortega’s cabin), but there was still time for photography.

The drifts are deep and daily active in places. Moon Bug didn’t seem to care.

Heading back up Schierl now, past the Geiser Cabin.

Now the steepest part of Schierl, just below the Mitchell Cabin, where the sun barely shines this time of year. The walls are quite deep, but this shows how likely one may be to sink into a crust were there no tracks packed beneath.

But Moon Bug is a treat to ride around in. I feel safe. I feel in control of the vehicle. Its tracks actually prefer power to hard pack and she moves quite well.

A small storm predicted for tomorrow (let us see how many factors we must multiply this one by), but I hope to venture out over the weekend for fresh produce and eggs.

The prior snowstorm yielded nearly seven times the forecast. This weekend’s storm tripled expected, thus expected is a relative term for my local weather folk. The snow also consistently blows sideways versus down, building and drifting in ways that I am still getting my mind around, but am optimistic that I will.

It is sugar snow too; way too cold to pack, stick or bond in anyway. It is literally billions of individual objects freely formed and fully independent upon the ground. Yesterday was a test run for Moon Bug – taking it out back into the fields where a foot of snow already existed to see if I could get stuck (better here than half way down the mountain). It was time to test the limits and see how she moves.

Nearly 30 inches of mostly sugar snow, the skid panels were bottoming out, but she moved quite normally.

Steering in this fluff is a bit enigmatic; it is hard to get a bite with the front tracks at times.