“The band was “Big Pick” playing at the local bar as usual on a Friday night, but it was still early in the day, so we decided to climb into the town forest, before going for a beer. We parked on a side street, because you can’t park at the trail head. Walking though the village there’s a lot to ponder, besides nature. What a variety of homes, and obvious wealth, or not. We stopped at the gate, not knowing, exactly, what to do. “I think I went this way”, she said, so we went that way. It was immediately steep, and annoying. What else would you expect, heading for a place called “Deer Leap”. I didn’t know any better. The forest was typical of something close to town, sort of mangled, by many tracks, and confusing. Not attractive, hardly scenic. Utilitarian, and focused on a goal. The top. And yet, the top was not a given. It was quickly becoming evident, many paths diverged. Who was going, where? I followed, she led. I was willing to not be right, on this adventure. All I knew, was up, and north. Things got nicer, once we left the lower zone. It looked like trail stewards had mulched the way, & I imagined them smashing rotten trees to pulp, because hauling mulch to such heights would be a fool’s errand. Then came the weird rocks. For some reason, I kept mentioning dinosaur eggs, although this was clearly silly. Now we were maybe halfway up, with no clear way to go, but aware of many odd wiggles, indicating traffic, however ancient. Suddenly, we hit a logging road. Praise the lord. At times like these, I find myself internally, worshipping men who wield chainsaws for a living. Their dogged intrusions into the forest allow the rest of us, to find our way, and not be lost. Now I felt almost civilized, again. I was likely not the first person to find footfall here, more likely the five thousandth. But we were still following our noses, and due to my idea of “what lay beyond”, our route remained suspect. Map reading can be a dangerous sport. I continued to quietly assert what I thought to be true. Can any of this not be applied to today’s encounters with social media? Thankfully, at near exhaustion, the ledges appeared, and their beauty unfolded, as advertised. There is nothing like massive stones presenting on a cliff’s edge. We both advanced, soft-footed, onto pine needles, and then, onto the granite slabs, slanted towards the south, offering views of Lake Champlain. Bristol Ledges, it’s called. But I was hearing something beyond the ledges. Lumber companies own a lot of land out here, which is still mostly wild. I can’t not notice. It’s a huge part of Vermont. As for today’s outcome, we pushed only as far as a cliff of icicles, the last of the season. I saw where the trail continued, though disused, towards a wetland, maybe a pond. I’d seen it on the map. It was not for today. We went downhill quickly, and found ourselves at the bar, the local watering hole, as they used to say. “Big Pick” was setting up to play, and we made small talk with the bar’s owner. I made a few remarks about how bad the sound was. Typical for a band, running its own board. Those of us who have worked the knobs, we can’t help ourselves. We think we know what to do, despite the fact that we have not benefitted from our own advice, after all these years.”
