We were fairly surprised yesterday afternoon at the number of people we came across along with their dogs, most known to us, a few not, while we were out on the forest trails. Weekdays are often pretty quiet in the ravine, although we know of quite a few regular ravine-hikers who are retired. For one thing, it wasn't the most weather-welcoming of days.

We seem to be pretty stuck in an Arctic-air cycle that just doesn't want to move. Even Toronto had a day that hit -10C yesterday. That was our daytime high, but there was also a cutting wind, intrusive enough to be felt throughout the forest trails where we more often find shelter from prevailing winds down in the ravine but for the relatively open areas on the ravine heights.

We came across a young woman with a real teddy-bear of a giant poodle mix, a genial, carefree customer who wanted nothing better than to romp happily along the trails, back and forth, curious about Jackie and Jillie, but quick to move on to discover other new interesting things. Might have been its first time in the ravine. He was a real beauty.

And then next up was a happy little black Lab, still in his puppy stages whose pleasure at the surprises that life keeps throwing at her makes him insatiable for more of the same. She whips back and forth across the trails, inviting our two now-more-sedate companions to follow her as she snakes her way everywhere, a whiplash of constant motion. We know her two people, they had pretty bad luck healthwise with their two other dogs and were in despair at one point that they could do nothing but try to alleviate the pain the younger of the two was in before he died; the other of old age.

The trails are considerably widened. All it takes is a week from the last of the big snowstorms for enough people and dogs to go through to tamp them down and make them more accessible. Truth to tell, the weather has been so unstable the effects of the all-day rainfall that preceded the last monster snowstorm is still obvious in the unevenness of the trail. An unevenness that has been exacerbated by conditions that led to ice covering everything.

We've had a few small snowstorms since but not enough of a sustainable pack to fill in the gaps and straighten out the trails. Not to complain, however, the footing is still good. We estimate that we're walking on a winter-elevated forest floor densely steeped in about 2-1/2 to three feet of accumulation. That will mean a lot of snow to melt when we finally enter milder days, and as the sun keeps gaining spring strength.

We had almost completed our circuit yesterday, heading for the last long hill up to street level, when I stopped on a narrow trail we were ascending, to take a photograph because though we'd been hiking under partially overcast skies with light flurries, out came the sun, and I wanted to capture it. I heard my husband shout something to me, but with my impaired hearing it took a bit for me to fully grasp that he was warning me.

The two giants of the ravine, the black part-Great Dane and its Bull Mastiff companion had burst onto the scene as they tend to do. My husband wanted me to be alert to them; they had, on a previous occasion bumped me sprawling on my backside on the trail. But though he had alerted me, it was my husband who was the recipient of the treatment this time and down he went. It's always the Mastiff, its companion tends to skirt as much as possible hitting anyone. They're gentle dogs but unaware of their strength, which is considerable.

My husband had the impression that when the Mastiff saw him sprawled down on his seat it seemed puzzled, simply not making the connection. Thankfully, no harm done. Eventually the dogs' human companion hoves into view, but never makes any effort to control them, trusting that people and their dogs will look after themselves, we suppose. In essence, an irresponsible pet owner; good thing those dogs are not inclined to be otherwise-troublesome, though they do frighten people not familiar with them.