Today I revisited a trail I had been to before but couldn’t remember its details or when I went there. I just had a feeling I’d been there before.
My memory clicked in, though, when we arrived at our first pile of horse crap. Oh right, I forgot about that. The B&M Trail cuts its way past several homes, the first of which is a large horse farm with a paddock abutting the trail. It even has a door granting access to the trail, and I imagine the farm uses it as a good way to give their equine brethren some exercise. Makes perfect sense to me.
New Sights
It’s always lovely to see a farm when you’re out hiking. What could be more peaceful than looking at a herd of grazing horses? But across from this particular farm is a private shooting range, which certainly changed the ambiance in a hurry. I wouldn’t mind hitting a shooting range for excitement, but it was a little more than I was looking for on what was supposed to be a simple walk in the woods. So I kept moving along.
Hopeful for more strange findings, albeit less jolting than a shooting range, I wondered what I’d see next. But sadly, after that, there wasn’t much. The trail runs uneventfully straight, right into a dead end of private property after about a mile. Apparently, it used to take you to a place called Dream Lake, but that’s all over now. Sigh.
Ruh-roh, Reorge
It Was All Coming Back
As Bullet and I made our way over another steaming hump of manure, I started to remember the last time I ventured this trail. It was during the winter, several years back, and I was trying to reacquaint myself with cross-country skiing. It had been a while, and the straight, flat grade was perfect for easing my way back into the sport. There was a lot of horse poop on the trail then, too.
The poop isn’t a big deal, but it does kind of stink up the place. The B&M is named after the Boston & Maine Railroad, which ran a branch line this way, but after passing the sixth mound of horse droppings, I thought the town should consider dropping the “&” from the B&M moniker.
Bullet didn’t enjoy the piles either and stayed close by my feet, wondering what strange animal could create such massive dung. As a budding wildlife tracker, I assured him it was just horse, which I double-confirmed after identifying a myriad of hoofprints. But he didn’t care. This place didn’t suit him.
That’s a horse print, I tell ya!
Make a Note
It wasn’t my favorite either, which is why I’m writing this down. So I don’t forget. A blog or a diary or wherever you choose to opine, shouldn’t be just about the good stuff. The great hikes. The epic climbs. It should be about everything. What works. What doesn’t. It all has value. Especially if you’re concerned with honest perspectives, as any writer should. Write it down. Keep a diary. Take notes. Not just to remember what you did, but to reflect on how you felt. Your reactions to things. Your why for going back—or your why not. If nothing else, it’ll help keep you from walking through the same old crap again.
It wasn’t all bad. I mean look at this tree, growing on nothing but solid rock. How cool is that? Even on the “lesser” hikes, there’s usually something cool to see.