We knew to watch for the wildlife and stray dogs that hung out here.
We
also made sure to point out the places that 'weren't right', and the
points
to be absolutely certain to not go alone or be when dusk fell.
One of those places we called, originally enough, Devil's Hole. Probably
a
sinkhole, rocks and things dropped into it never seemed to hit bottom,
and
the air coming from it flat out stank. I never liked to dawdle
in that
area; whenever I did (or anyone else) a listless feeling would come
from
nowhere, and shadows where none had a right to be would rush through
the
bushes.
One of the trails was a rocky fire road (The Loop) that switchbacked
its way
around past a junction that would take you to a seasonal pond and a
way to a
residential street. All along The Loop was the remains of barbed
fences,
cisterns..and the sound of a horse following behind you. Anyone
watching
would have though us to lost our minds, a group of kids riding and
glancing
behind at the sound of hooves. A few times we would see someone
standing in
the tree line, only to stop and find no one there.
One section close to the creek NO ONE would ride along, in a group or
alone.
Even standing at the entrance to the trail would begin a breeze
in the
trees and the sound of whispering. I had demonstrated it to people
riding
with me for the first time there. The air would be stock still,
and yet the
trees seemed to be beckoning you to come along.
Now, most of the 'new' section (south of the S.E. Military/W.W. White
Rd.
over the creek) is gone, bulldozed to make way for a business park
and a new
school. Some of the 'old' section is gone as well, given to new
houses. I
think 700 Acres is having the last laugh, though: it seems the equipment
is
being vandalized or working when it wants to, and the workers don't
like to
be there early in the morning or at dusk..they say they see people
standing
in the tree line.
I forgot to mention the elderly woman who spoke to me about 'tree people'
(dryads, maybe?). I wandered across her gathering plants near the stone
dam.
We had a nice conversation about things, and when I looked up from
my bike
to tell her I had to go for dinner - gone. There was no where
for her to go
to that fast.
Until next time!