The Shortcut Continues
... So it's down the old fire road once again.
After a short trek we come to our first fork in the road and in accordance with our plan we take the eastward path. This too is an old grass covered fire road. Only the faintest of hints suggest hikers have recently ventured before us. The two trampled parallel paths that form the trail were no doubt blazed many years ago by park service vehicles. There is no sign of recent vehicular traffic though, as the ground between the paths stands three feet tall with dried grass and brittle stalks of Queen Ann’s Lace. On either side of this road is the greedy underbrush that longs to fill in this gap. It's goal would likely be achieved where it not for the persistent erosion from the occasional bipedal wonderers, such as Richey and myself. The evolutionary leaders in the race to bridge this gap in the woods tend toward the Sumacs and Ivy bunch. But a strong showing is made by Sassafras and Goldenrod with just enough New York Ironweed to prove adept adaptation.
Of course the grand prize for bridging the gap in the woods - on this day - would have to go to the spiders. Every so often you could tell that you were breaking through a carefully constructed trap. Were it not for our enormous size and strength we may have found our journey cut short by these creatures. Monsters intent on piercing our flesh to inject their poison that would dissolve our insides to produce their life-sustaining beverage. Even with the knowledge of dominion over these octo-peds, the feeling of a web brushing across the face still feels creepy. So creepy in fact that one finds that extending ones arm forward while clutching a 5ft hiking stick is an agreeable solution to warding off such attempts on ones life.
As we hike down these side by side paths we notice that one of these paths seems to be more traveled than the other. Inevitably the side with the fewest spider webs is the side chosen by us big bad hikers. So as we tramp on - single file - down our 2ft aisle, cut down one side of a 12ft wide gap in the woods we are humbled with the knowledge that the other road has been closed by the tiniest of creatures. The web of the spider is now acting as a suture to close this wound that was inflicted so many years ago. Let the healing begin. Let the forest regrow.
The path here tends toward the downhill at an ever-increasing rate. What began as nearly flat and level, easy walking is now starting to become even easier. We can see up ahead that there is a bend in the road. We know from our previous visits here that the road is doing this to avoid a very steep grade by heading south to take a more gradual approach. It will cut back north in a quarter of a mile or so - taking the easy route - to meet us at the bottom of that hill. Since we are free individuals and not governed by the same rules that must be followed by fire roads through the woods we opt to forego the gradual and experience the more direct approach.
Now if you have ever seen someone slip, fall and tumble down a steep incline while equipped with pack and frame you will attest that it is not a pretty site. It is that very image that instills genuine caution on the part of we adventurers as - with trusty staff and step - we negotiate the descent. As any large undertaking is best tackled by divisions; from tree to targeted tree we work or way down the hundred feet (or so) hill like a couple of balls in a pachinko game (only slower.) The payout being a well-deserved break when we reach the base of the hill.
Sure enough, when we got down, the road was there waiting. Since we were deep in the woods, the road had shed its grassy Mohawk in favor of the more mossy, dirty, Telly Savalas look. But we knew it was the same road. The same road that would lead us to Salt Creek. The same road that would lead us to our story.
To Be Continued...