We don’t see as radical a change in the landscape in June as we do in May. The existent green foliage will get even lusher, but that’s about it. Some consistency, it’s a good thing.

We will see yet another change in the way people recreate. Today was a harbinger of what’s to come.

I was out riding Tinni on the trails. I could hear the sound of dirt bikes and four wheelers on our road. We were lucky over Memorial Day weekend; however, they obviously are now taking to the trails again.

Obviously. They are not subtle about it. They want to be heard and seen. A case in point. I was riding Tinni across the main

Someone shot David Marden's memorial sign

trail going up to the Bench and heading in the direction of Jim’s Road. I heard a vehicle on the trail and looked to my left. Tinni and I saw it, both at the same time, a big bright red pickup truck, trundling up the trail. It came to a stop about 400 yards distant from us. We just kept going.

I got to the Jim’s Road Trailhead and stood for a moment, then saw it, the truck, heading up the hill. Now, of course, I was bothered by this – this used to be a single track trail, now it’s a rutted road. The driver kept going. I didn’t head back and follow him uphill because the slick surface would be hard on Tinni. Instead, I headed home.

This sight has left me with questions. One is about the question of joy. I take great delight, when I ride, in seeing the way the light comes through the trees, brightening up the already bright greenery. I also take delight in watching the birds – the grouse have not yet had their babies, but they are out on the trail. And the robins, they’ve paired up for the year. And there is the ever present smell of the green vegetation, heightened after a good rain, like the one we had yesterday.

Do the motorheads ever take notice of any of this? Most likely not. But how could it be that they take joy in tearing up trails? Are they aware of the fact that they are spoiling other trail users outdoor experience? How could they not care?

I often wonder how these individuals were raised. Quite obviously, they never went on family hikes or picnics. Their parents had to have been of the sort that smoked heavily and didn’t move around much. They all must have subsisted on Pringles Potato Chips and Red Bull. Brain rot. That’s it. They, like their parents, are suffering from brain rot.

There is nothing we can do about – in terms of the big picture, change is happening. And for this, both Tinni and I are grateful.

Next: 152. 6/2/21: Running with Horses: Accepting Decline