Not all who wander are lost

[kragore]

There's a network of roads out in the western half of the state, decrepit and largely forgotten, like a subway sealed up from a time past.
Many times these roads will be marked by partially obscured, giant screaming orange signs that proclaim "THIS ROAD NOT MAINTAINED - PASS AT OWN RISK"
I love those signs.
I love those roads.
And while the Dragon may not love these roads, she deals with them like a trooper. The roads have figured prominently in stories told to me by my Grandmother, and even my Father, about when Dziadek, (polish for grandfather, a bastardized american pronounciation is loosely "ja-jew") would take him fishing.

Well, as luck would have it, a large tree fell across the power lines onto Rt 8A as we were coming back from a day with the folks in Rohan. And rather than turn all the way around and backtrack to meet up with the highway again, we went back and turned up a little known path called "Savoy Road." My father had just told me about the time he and his father had gone fishing down off that road early in the spring and had gotten stuck, because there was still snow in that hollow, even though it was May.
My Darling Love has made the observation many a time that usually if a road is named after a town, it usually goes there. Well, I wanted to get to Chapel Hill road, that ran roughly perpendicular to Savoy Road, so w,e (rather, I) took the chance.

My glee was high, because when we started out there were still power lines on the side of the road, a sign that it is at least partially maintained. My glee only dimmed a smidge when the power lines stopped abruptly, and the "road" (ie, mud track,) became to two dirt tire tracks that headed off into the Deep Woods.

There was no going back. Besides, how bad could it be?

Well, for a while it was downright pleasant. We came across a number of relatively new looking bridges in the middle of Blazing Nowhere, complete with "Load Limit" signs standing proudly among the grown up trees and bushes. Thanks be to the higher power that we didn't encounter anyone coming down the mountain, for the was Nowhere to pass, but that was for reasons we'd find out later.

Dragon held her own like a champ, skirting deep ravines and a muddy, rocky, obviously unmaintained (except for those weird bridges) road. There were nervous squeals from Little Brother, and sage advice from my Darling Love (ie, "Please don't roll the car into the river the middle of nowhere", and terse "Faster!!") Tall hills were climbed. Mud was slid through. All-Wheel Traction Control was engaged. Many times.
In only one instance did Dragon bottom out. (With a horrifying noise, but no ill effect, and besides, it was the quick hit to the rock or the slow slide into the river.)
Perhaps rather than Dragon, I should call my ride Goat.

We emerged from the Deep Woods about 20 minutes later caked in mud in front of a house and a shocked woman, who looked up from her flower bed, quite confused. We waved, Little Brother exclaimed "Civilization, at last!" and we took the still unpaved, (but now maintained,) road to it's outlet, only about 3 miles from where I thought it would come out, and on Chapel Hill Road.

Little Brother and Darling Love looked back at Savoy Road, only to see, quite prominently displayed, a large "DEAD END" sign.

So I guess they're never really dead ends if you can prove other wise.

But I don't think I'll be taking that one as a short cut ever again.
- k.