Back on my motorcycle I quickly left the ATV area behind. I was now in a mix of swamp and working forest. Working forest is where tree harvest is a non-ironic genuine industrial activity. Most of the roads were in good condition though some ended at a logging landing. There were intermittent areas where roads were long neglected (passable but sketchy) or non-existent. In between there were occasional water infrastructure objects, ditches and irrigation gates and whatnot. Many of these would be a stone cold bitch to cross if you weren’t on a road or trail (or snowmobile). Further in I expected to find abandoned homesteads. Sure enough they appeared on cue. Mostly gone to brush a century ago and from there to forest again. How many Americans… let me rephrase that, how many north Americans or Europeans have seen places that once supported people and are now literally uninhabited. How different and more humble we would all be if we’d all seen such places. Confidence that “the arrow of history points to conclusion X” fades when you roll past an abandoned cemetary. A community was once there. People were born, grew up, and died in what was once a village, and then a ghost town, and is now nowhere. It’s a curiosity to ride by on a dirt bike and I thought of Ozymandias and folks freaking out in their efforts to slice 2021’s pie to their liking. Those old graves are a point of view most people haven’t had the privilege to experience.
Interspersed with all this were tall healthy tree plantations; more industrial forest. Works of the hand of man, good places to hunt big game. There were equally large patches of mature native generated forest. Just as industrial but not planted in rows and also just as pretty. There were also occasional burned areas; because fire is part of life.
One burned area was a bit larger than most and I crossed it slowly, getting lost in a maze of logging trails from the salvage cut. This is where the heat got to me once again. The air was dead calm and the burn had no canopy. No tree canopy meant no shade. I cooked out as little Honey Badger and I picked our way through the area. On the other side, I took a random turn and found myself on a long straightaway that went directly through a more or less impassible swamp. Weeds brushed me from all sides, no doubt giving my Peremethrin treated jeans a solid test.
I was panting and my mouth was dry. Not a good sign! At the next shaded spot I’d drink some water. I was feeling a little ill and didn’t relish the thought of stopping. When you’re thirsty but you’re not interested in water… you’re dehydrated. Yet, I was in no mood to stop in this swampy mess. I’d hold out for a shaded tree plantation but no more than 10 minutes. (I promised myself I’d stop in 10 minutes even if I was on a hornet’s nest. You need to put the logical brain in charge of the illogical during extreme conditions. Plus, I was alone. A certain extra caution behooves the solo adventurer.)
