2021 February 27

Ground saturated slush and rain melt refreeze melt re: we knew the trails shared with dirt bikers deep suck your boot off mud, we drove to Falls and MacArthur to find where we park barking with No Parking signs and nobody parked there
Intersection blind from all three directions and for all moving objects, hikers, joggers, dog-walkers, bikers, cars, cars 45ing in a 25, cars backing out of parking after hiking with bikers and cars 45ing
People parked on MacArthur on the left as soon as you make the left from Falls (or on the right uphill from Old Anglers before the right onto Falls) (which has the stop sign but half-blind to bikers and cars uphilling from the parking lots for people not doing the hikes people park at the top of this hill are) on county, not Fed, property
The hike: Gold Mine counter-clockwise to Valley to (very briefly, 1000 feet, if that) Anchor to Woodlands to Goldmine, Valley Woodlands a permanent seat on My Sillyass Deserted Island Five Game of mile and a halfs, slays me every time, Earthgirl can vouch, you can see for yourself with or without me, and winter and wet and grey
Before the plague regulars horizontal parked on MacArthur so could pull out into traffic and see objects coming toward them from front and back
but when woods filled with people who would rather die of plague than EVER AGAIN walk in the woods (this is good for me) began parking MacArthur sideways and it stuck, at least six more cars slot sideways than length-wise, it killed the easement, added thousands of feet more erosion and degradation, people spinning mud to back out into a dangerous intersection with multiple blind spots and moving targets
I remember one serious enough wreck (when people horizont0led) to make mention to doink my lodge but won’t hazard when, at least a decade ago, one lazy google search page one disclosed no secrets
The gated mini-Versailles direct on right on MacArthur and direct on right once turned right on Falls of a sudden on sale, it’s a metaphor worth noting though fuck you not fine if slappy standard abounding and connected
If I removed your blindfold a hundred yards into the woods and you walked down Valley then across Woodlands you’d never know you’re a mile and a half (on foot, half a mile as Crow flies) from shitlord self-Versailles and shitlord Versailles laundromats, fine metaphors abound

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