I took a screen-grab of Mountain Two’s daily test images a couple of weeks ago, struck by the differences in the photos — same trailcam, same position, same time every day. Here’s that gallery of images, captured on ten consecutive days:
When I venture out onto our slice of Ozarkansas, there’s little in the way of established trails. Nothing is marked. The woods are dense in most places, the terrain rugged. Few features differentiate one spot from another.
If I told you that I’d ever been truly “lost” on our 20 acres, that might be overstating it. But I can assure you that I’ve been “turned around” more than once.
That’s never a problem, much less cause for alarm. In fact, I smile whenever it happens, because often that’s when the fun begins.
Over a half-century ago, I was taught how to move about in unfamiliar territory — map and compass, of course, but also dead reckoning in the absence of landmarks. There are certain universal bushwhacking principles which, as long as I know generally where I am, will take me to where I want to be.
Those skills were put to the test when I was a rambunctious 21-year-old, navigating the trackless Clark Range along the Canadian border — for four days, alone. Making my way around The Mountain is far less challenging, obviously, but I approach it exactly the same way.
Fundamentally, I don’t trust my eyes. I mean, being observant is good, even essential. An over-reliance on visuals, however, is unwise.
Go back and look again at those trailcam images. Notice how the same scene presents itself with changes in light and weather. Imagine how it’d appear at other times of day, or in different seasons.
The lesson? Trust your skills, not your eyes.
I had business in town again today. On my way back, I paused at the crest of our road and glanced at the view framed in the Silverado’s driver’s-side mirror.
I’ve seen it now so many times that I don’t know if someone who’s never been here can tell from a photo just how steep the grade is. The climb begins at about the halfway point of what you can see in the image below.
Where I stopped to take today’s photo is over 200 vertical feet higher than that.
The total ascent is 217 feet — the height of Niagara Falls plus 50 feet. And, as I’ve said many times, it’s not exactly smooth sailing.
As I sat there looking at the rearview mirror today, I was filled with gratitude that such a track leads to the place I call Home. Discouraging. Off-putting. Forbidding. Inhospitable. The road is a warning to the uninvited, one last chance to reconsider before regret.
It’s not impassable. So yeah, I’m sure that you could get your vehicle, whatever it is, up The Mountain. But the question is this — if you’re not invited, if you don’t belong here, why would you?
That’s the clear message our road sends. And for that, I’m thankful.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB