I am certain this will be part one. I took over 200 shots when we went up the mountain on Saturday – took the big camera in the gigantic camera case, slung across my back (and dangling at my side, and sliding across the saddle in front). I meant to do it right this time, take some good shots. And now, good or no, I’m going to show you every-single-one of them. (Not really. But almost.) And it’s a dang good thing I did, because I have never in all my born days seen an Autumn like this one before with my own two eyes. I no longer envy West Virginia and never will again.
Driving up to the trail head, we turn a corner, and suddenly, there is this.
G doesn’t like it when I suck in my breath suddenly in amazement. Especially when he’s driving. And driving on a sharply winding mountain road, at that.
A self portrait. Almost. This farm sits just below the trail. The fields slope down from the road and there are clear, tiny, dancing streams that tumble down the slope to meet the creek below. In spring it is delicious. In Autumn, astonishing.
Here is the slope just above the parking lot. You see the dozens of horse trailers there? We were not the only ones wanting to lose ourselves in the wilderness on Saturday. We only saw one other pair of riders on our way, though. The rest must have gone deep into the hills. This time of the year is good – not only because of the color, but because there is no hunt on, and you can ride the ways without worrying about someone mistaking you for an elk.
I am standing on a picnic table. My heart is pounding with this incredible visual assault. I have never hit the mountains at the peak of the maples before. I am flabbergasted and greedy.
We are out of the trailer and ready to go. Dustin is so beautiful. And Zion is evidently holding still. But that will not last.
First we go up a steep service road up over the shoulder of the first hill. when we come around the first corner at the top, this is what we see. Guy is tightening his girth; wouldn’t want a saddle sliding underneath the horse just now.
These folds of land – they remind me of mixing a thick cake. Or a mound of bedding.
We ride this road for a while, then take off to the right, walking into the golden grass.
It just goes on forever, folding back on itself.
When we get over to that hill, we turn up to the left, following the road, until we come to the secret turn off, a small path that burrows steeply up through the trees. You can’t really see it until you’re almost past the entrance. But Zion remembers it and takes the ninety degree turn, plunging into the trees almost before I know he’s going to.
And this is what we found there. These leaves, so pale, like creatures that live at the bottom of the ocean, like old lace – things of no weight, ghosts of leaves.
Above the little passage, the maples flame achingly, and become stained glass windows.
When we come out up above, we turn one more corner, and suddenly, there is this valley. I’ve shown it to you before. And will again a million times. It’s always a shock, every time we stumble on it. Glad I had the real camera this time. We are headed for the place where those pines pool, where the three hills meet. There’s a spring head there, deep in the pines.
You can see how steep this trail is. All it is is a pause in the slope. Chaz can’t ride it; too scary and high up. The path is really narrow. Zion hates it. He hates going downhill. We had an argument about that, but that happened later.
At least he’s interested in where we’re headed – for the moment. You can tell by the ears. Horses’ eyes can see independently of one another – each eye seeing half of the picture the horse puts together in his head. The picture ends up being two dimensional, no depth perception, but almost a sweeping 360 degree view of the surroundings. But when the ears are pointed in the same direction this way, the eyes have teamed up, and he’s seeing in 3D, important in a place like this.
Like a magic tunnel. I think my heart looks like this inside. How many stories could you tell about this place?
Okay – but now. What are these ears telling you? See how his neck is a little canted? The head tilted just a little bit? Yeah – there’s something down there. Something hidden in the trees, and Zi isn’t so sure he likes it.
Turned out to be the two other riders, a big man with a white cowboy hat and a remarkable mustache. And two small red merle Australian cattle dogs – I was a little worried about them. In fact, the whole thing was a little dodgy – tiny path, steep drop, and somehow, we all had to get past each other. G got off and led Dustin to a place where they could stand to the side. Zi and I just went upslope a little. That’s where we had the dang argument, hanging up there in the air over the valley.
I won. I am a quiet rider, and Zi and I are good friends. But when I want to pitch a fit, I’m worse than whatever else he’s worried about.
Then we went on down toward the valley floor.
And that will be part two.
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