No Waxing Gibbous

For our walk under the First Quarter moon two nights ago, it was 53% full. Tonight the moon is 74% full and qualifies as a "Waxing Gibbous."

The Waxing Gibbous is hiding behind a thick, overcast sky--so no photos. A good amount of light is still making it to the Earth's surface here at the Bluff though, so again the headlamp is optional.

Tanner and I cut over to the road to the Back Beach around 2115, reached the green gate, and departed the road there due west. We ducked and side-stepped our way through the brambles and fallen trees, moving to the lowlands of Fatty's Camp, and picked up the new logging trail at the bottom of the next ridge.

There is some Burgess scrawl carved on a nearby tree, although I am unsuccessful in locating it. As I recall, that carving had been done in early Winter 2004, while doing some plinking with my college roommate. I had worked the numbers of the year deeply into the smooth trunk while Matt was taking his turn, and I decided to go back another day to do my actual initials. I never did.

Tanner and I climbed to the ridge on the logging trail, reaching the darkness of the pines looming there. Despite having been in that same spot many times in my life and having experience in other dark woods, I felt a sense of anxious excitement--a brief moment of fear in which I knew that I was much smaller than the world around me.

We followed the logging trail southward all the way to Teeple's orchard, discovering fresh tire tracks up to the crest of Corduroy Rd. The vehicle foot prints circled the "machinery parking lot" at the start of the logging trail and headed into the orchard. Tanner and I descended nearly to the paved road below, turning a right onto the Byork pond trail.

At the northernmost part of that skinnier trail Tanner had the urge to go to the edge of the pond, which was chilling but not yet frozen solid. I slid down the bank slightly to grab him up and let him down 10 feet further along. As soon as paws hit the ground Tanner bolted back toward the pond, feeling cheated. I pivoted on the spot, sprinting toward the unknowing puppy, transitioning into a magnificent slide down to the pond. I tackled Tanner at the very edge, literally flattening him on his side into the bank.

A good performance and quick reaction by myself, I think. My slide had enough momentum so that my right boot went right into the pond above the ankle, but wasn't in long enough for the water to soak through. Perhaps Mr. Byork will re-create this scene in his mind upon seeing the man / dog skid marks, if the overnight snowfall doesn't cover them. Which I certainly hope it does.

The new skis are patiently waiting.


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