The trail that runs for miles from my yard through Connecticut’s Wyantenock State Forest goes through multi-year cycles where it gets more or less use and attention. In the ’80s, I’d spend days at it, with clippers and scythe. Back then you could lose the trail, or parts of it, easily. Then it got popular with horse riders, but I haven’t seen them in years. You see a hunter or hiker every once in a long while. And loggers go in occasionally, in their beater trucks, but mostly now it’s ATV riders, god love ’em. Last week I watched, slack-jawed, as a teenager riding up the stretch that climbs from my back yard got off his four-wheeler to pick up a branch and toss it into the woods. I’ve been marveling all summer and fall at how great shape the trail is in.

Which was a good thing Wednesday morning, when 4” of fluffy fresh fell on bare ground. It wasn’t quite enough, really, but then, it was just barely enough if you were dead set. And with the possibility of a zero-ski winter in mind, I was dead set.

Took out the waxless Atomics, the ones Dana steered me to, what? 30 years ago? (They’ve still got the Paragon price tag on at the tip. Always makes me grin.) And decided to get the uphill done first. I love when your uphill steps cross over an invisible threshhold and go from trudge, stop, trudge, stop, to push, glide, push, glide. Even an inch of uphill glide always feels like some kind of magic.

I watched, almost like a bystander, as my body slowly relearned the strange physics of XC. I think of it as constantly falling forward. It seemed odd that I had to relearn. Seemed like it should be automatic. Rust is bad.

Once the trail leveled off some, you could really enjoy the benefit of all the clearing it’s gotten. Under the snow, dead leaves covered 90% of the rocks and stones. It was really nice kick and glide. Went about 2 miles, maybe 350 rolling verts, and turned around, reusing my outbound tracks for the uphills and getting fresh on the down-.

The down-s kept your attention. They were punctuated by the fzzt fzzt of fishscale against rock and I never once felt confident that my skis weren’t about to stop short with me going long. Made me go deep into tele position, not so much for turning as for stability.

But it all worked out fine, including the new looping detour that the ATV’ers had worn in. Some nice little doodles in there. Got done and said to no one, “yah, mon!”