|Smiling. Always smiling when I’m on Hamilton|
By now most people have heard of the three main types of fun. Type 3 being no fun at all. Type 2 is fun after the fact when you have “survived” it and are thinking back on it. I’ve lived most of my life solidly here. Then there is Type 1 fun: actually having fun while doing it.
Hamilton is introducing me to the world of Type 1 Fun.
For the third weekend in a row I loaded up the trailer and hit the road. I can’t even remember the last time I rode this much. It feels good to be back at it. The last time I rode at Scotsgrove was in 2015. It was memorable because a) Gem was recovering from her laceration which meant that I took Pete for my first ever trail ride on him and b) I locked the keys in the truck when I arrived so I rode the trail and then called the locksmith when I got back.
This time I had both chestnut boys with me and was meeting a friend who volunteered to ride Eeyore and keep us company. I have a whole post coming about loaning out my horse as this experience taught me many things and has changed my opinion about the whole "do you let others ride your horse" conversation. More to come another day on that.
On this day though the sun was shining, there was a cool breeze and the trails were in perfect condition. I couldn't have ordered a more perfect day.
There were single track trails that wound through the woods providing shade on a morning that was growing increasingly warm.
Unfortunately the second half of the ride wasn't as carefree as the first. Right from the start things got screwy. We left the hold and followed the ribbons on our left as we had done the prior 5 miles. I saw a ribbon on the right and thought it was odd but a few strides up ahead there was another on the left so we carried on...right back to the hold. Oops. We back tracked and found that right hand turn again and this time took it and carried on. We probably added a good mile if not a little more. Oops.
|Kudzu and the trail before it went down hill|
And then another group of 5 riders came flying up our asses. They were hauling down that hill. They never said a word. Never slowed. When they were nearly on top of me I told them they needed to slow down and walk behind us until we could safely pull over. The bottom of the hill with a huge flat access road was 100 yards away. They could wait. Or so I thought.