The dog trail crosses a small creek a little ways from our house. When the old bridge collapsed, my neighbors, my wife and I built a new one. Now every few years, we need to do maintenance on it. The bank sloughing led to moving it a ways downstream, then a corner of the deck broke and needed more support. I guess it's kind of like that poem about making fences, except that here it's good neighbors that build bridges.
Now that the dog runs are over, it's time to haul in fire wood with the ski doo. During the winter, I cut up dead and down trees along the trail and stack them up, then bring it back in the spring. When I first started to run dogs, I did all the trail work on foot, skis, or snowshoes. The wood was hauled by me and the dogs. A few years ago, I broke down and bought a snow machine. Then built a trail groomer. It occurred to me that with skis attached, the groomer could double as a sled. So now I haul a lot more wood than I did. But maybe not quite as much fun as it used to be.
Finally got the taxes done. Used the E-file option for the first time. It seemed like a good idea until it came back, refused by the IRS. So so after several more unsuccessful tries, I finally called the IRS. They found the error and I filed it again. It finally worked, but what a waste of time. Unlike the so-called tea bag protestors, who apparently didn't know that teabagging was gay slang for oral sex, don't understand that most folks are getting a tax cut, or maybe want to go back to the nineteenth century and not pay any tax, I don't mind paying something. But it should be a lot easier to file. I don't know if a flat tax is the answer, but the current system is a joke, on us.
The weather has finally warmed up, it's been getting to near forty the past few days. Looks like this could be the last dog run of the year. I ran the younger dogs in one team, then took the five oldest in another. My old leader Springer is 13 and his half-litter mate Luna is 11. They ran all winter, mostly short distances, for my wife's occasional dog run. She calls them the Alzheimer's team. They still get all excited and go like heck for the first hundred yards or so, then slow down to a slow but steady trot. A lot of sled dogs don't even live to 13. Springer still has the same enthusiasm he had as a pup, even if he can't run as fast or as long anymore. I guess there's a lesson there somewhere.
Drove down past Big Delta to help my friend Mike do a survey on the Delta River. I go down there several times a year, it reminds me of what it used to be like to work for a living. It was a fine day, sunny and warm, until just a few miles north of Black Rapids, when the wind started to blow the snow around. At the survey site, it was nearly a ground blizzard with snow drifts blown across the road. Mike was already setting up the equipment, so there was no discussion about doing the work with that wind howling, we just got started and worked until we finished. What would normally have been an easy two hour job took twice that long under those conditions. Afterwards, we talked about working in that wind and laughed about how miserable it was. Big joke. Mike wanted to take a picture, so I stood out on the river like a ski jumper trying to fly. It almost worked.