You don’t need to climb the highest mountain to have a “natural experience”. The earth is always right there under your feet.
I abandoned pre-conceived plans and was simply riding. My little motorcycle Honey Badger seemed to know where to go and I was happy to see where it would lead. I thought I’d “explored” this area thoroughly but within minutes I was in terrain I hadn’t before seen. Perfect!
The little trail I’d taken ambled into a logging operation. Some machinery was parked off in the distance; that was probably the nearest landing. Since the wood was fresh cut (it smelled wonderful) and the machinery still present, it was an active worksite. If I’d arrived on a working day the place would’ve been impassible. Logging is serious shit done by serious men trying to make brutal payments on absolutely daft machinery. They’ve no time for an idiot on a motorcycle and don’t need the extra concern of wondering if the bump they just felt was from driving over a stump or a human. I’d have fled in the opposite direction lest I wind up squashed by a skidder or have a tree dropped on my head.
Any logging landing will accommodate a log hauling truck. I’d arrived on a trail that would manage a UTV at best and it had vanished under the disturbed vegetation. So I bounced and jostled among the skid trails until I got to the landing.
Is that common verbiage? Broadly speaking, a “landing” is where off road capable ground based log skidding equipment gathers freshly harvested tree trunks. (There are exceptions so let’s refrain from getting pedantic about aerial logging shall we?) At the “landing” logs (or sometimes chips) are transferred to on road capable equipment (invariably a semi tractor with trailer).
The point is not to examine industrial practices (which I find fascinating but will bore a normal human); the point is that any time a semi can get to a log deck (a “deck” is a pile of logs) you can get out on the same path. It’s not rocket science and after a few hundred yards of faffing about on skid trails I was at the deck. From there it was obvious and I zoomed down a two track “road” that led to the forest road system.
Here’s where a lot of folks who know little about life and less about trees get all weepy about the messy nature of logging. They’ve got a pre-programmed Pavlovian response to bitch about the harvest of trees. I don’t. A logging operation is ugly like a butcher shop while in progress but you don’t get bacon by raising pigs to old age and you don’t get forest rejuvenation unless something stirs the pot. (Generally if it’s not humans that remove the biomass it’ll be fire.)
I was delighted at what I’d found. The harvest will soon bring forth a bunch of little trees. Such regeneration never had a chance in the shady understory but now it’s got the necessary resource of sunlight and water. (Boomers and Gen X and Millennials need to have related discussion of workforce demographics.) Game animals don’t eat full grown trees, they eat branches and shit (browse). (That’s painting with a broad brush and there are nuances. Elk and buffalo like grass and moose will wander about in aquatic vegetation until it freezes.) This fall critters would be gnawing on branches left after the harvest. In a few years they’ve be munching on waist high regeneration.
By my reckoning I was on Federal land which is open to hunting. This place might be prime hunting ground. Hunters aren’t fools and they’ll all be watching the spot but they’ll likely come in the front door. The little trail I found might be the back door to slip into the far reaches of the harvest. Who knows what the future holds but it’s nice to have a dream.
The path of the log trucks led to a forest road I’d seen on a map but never ridden. This hit a T with a slightly larger dirt road. Obviously, the log trucks were heading left, so I turned right. I was now in ranch/agricultural land. I was still on public roads but I’d ridden off the public lands. A couple miles later I turned left, for no particular reason. Then I started trying to veer back into the public forest area.
My first attempt failed. The road turned east, which was a good sign, and then it turned north leaving only an anemic little two track headed straight (the direction I wanted to go). I followed it a while and it went from bad, to worse, to ugly, and then finally I got to a clogged culvert which had turned the road into a shallow weedy mess. I could go further but clearly there was no point. Retreat and try again.
Back at the three way intersection I consulted my map. I heard the sound of motors and waited. Sure enough a convoy of 2 UTVs rolled by. They were in a “ditch trail” adjacent to the main-ish road heading north. I couldn’t see the ditch trail from my vantage on the road itself. Neither of the UTVs saw me and I gladly let them by without bringing notice to myself.
That was the first humans I’d seen all day. They never saw me at all.
A couple miles later I found a better road heading the way I wanted and took it. A few miles down that road there was another T intersection. By now I was deeply in forest.
I was supposedly heading toward a gravel pit. UTV/ATV folks love gravel pits! I should point out that doesn’t mean an active operation. A gravel pit for this purpose is the ridge or hole which was dug up to make all these nearby dirt roads, along with some piles of dirt stored for future use.
I find it amusing that public land managers 20 years ago were constantly bitching at people to keep out of gravel pits. Trying to keep ATVs out of an empty unused gravel pit is like trying to keep minnows out of a bay. What are you going to do? Fence and patrol the perimeter of every dirt hole in creation? With time, they’ve shown the hint of wisdom. They just mark them on the map and put up anti-litigation signs; “Caution, if you drive your ATV off a cliff it’ll hurt. Try not to do that.” See? After only 20 years (or maybe 50) one portion of one Agency adapted to reality.
ATVs and UTVs (and what few motorcycles exist) show up, drive around like extras in a Mad Max movie, and then leave. It’s a good system. It lets them blow off steam in a place where erosion and such are already managed. The dirt piles don’t seem to notice all the ATV/UTV attention.
I don’t really like gravel pits but they’re handy. They’re a good spot for a warming fire in high fire danger (not a problem this trip). If I knew anyone, which I don’t, they’d be good gathering and rendezvous points. Also they are sometimes a place to get out of vegetation. Bugs were getting thick and I’d like a place to rest. An open area with less vegetation and more dirt would be ideal. I was getting hot and needed water.
Unfortunately, Honey Badger saw another trail and I was off exploring again. It wasn’t me, it was the motorcycle. No way I’d be that dumb.
(To be continued.)