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17 February ~2009

Me and the dogs made another trip up to our hidden ridgetop. There was more snow this time, which marked our trail, and took away some of the secrecy of our outing. If someone had a mind to they could follow our footprints up the steep slope, through the rock formations, and right into our camp.

That's not likely however, especially since we are so far off trail. I can't recall ever running into another person on one of our winter backpack trips.

I have read that wild animals are very aware of the tracks they leave in the snow, and are often looking back, knowing that predators can follow them.

Enos mills wrote about following Grizzlies after fresh snow, that the bear would head over exposed boulder fields, or jump into birch thickets, to shake off their follower. They also would double back to see who was on their trail. Enos said if there was an obstruction on the trail, such as a fallen log or a large boulder, he would move to the side to make sure a bear was not behind it. He had seen grizzlies lie down behind a log, waiting to ambush him. What gave them away was their fur blowing in a gust of wind, barely visible above the log.

Does it indicate how far gone I am that the highest romance I could think of around Valentine's Day was the stillness of a winter evening at 9,000 feet in the Rockie's, sitting with my dogs and feeling the power of nightfall in the wilderness. It had been windy, and there was no moon, so the constellations were bright out from the house-size boulder I camped under.

We found a flat overhang with a breathtaking view of the east side of the mountain. The only way to it was along an angled rock with a knife-edge top, that couldn't be walked. I made it by holding my fingers over the edge and sidestepping the rock's length. Ben just walked on the steep angle, acting like it was nothing. Mollie and Maggie had enough sense to not try.

Mollie continued her education, following Ben, checking out scents, picking up sticks and running with them. I have to watch her so she doesn't wander to far from camp. A whistle will induce her to race back to my side.

We found where something else had gotten up on a rock to look over the valley - Probably a coyote, though the tracks in the snow where of a size that could have been a lion. They were old, and it was hard to tell.

It was warm in the tent after a while, and I caught up on my sleep - only reading for an hour or so before I retired. Maggie and Ben took their spot to my right, like they always do. Mollie was down by my feet, partially under my sleeping bag to stay warm. Before morning she moved up right between Ben and Maggie, cozy as a bug next to her mountain buddies.

What a glorious place this is, the West. Put up with a little snow and cold and you can have thousands of acres all to yourself.

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