Note: I’m continuing to write blogs to hopefully get me back to writing for the memoir. Everyday, I feel a little more like myself and get a little closer to writing for the memoir. Maybe my writing hasn’t sucked even though I haven’t felt like myself in months, and still feel like I’m still in a fog. But, I’m my worst critic and probably always will be. In other words, I should probably keep my negative opinions about my writing to myself and let y’all be the judges here. 

I’m blessed enough to live in a neighborhood with access to private hiking trails reserved for the residents. I don’t live in Ken Caryl Valley. I live in the older part of the neighborhood on the plains, also known as Ken Caryl Plains. Both neighborhoods are part of Ken Caryl Ranch, which means I can access the same hiking trails, pools, fishing ponds, and horse stables as those living in the million dollar homes in the foothills. The park across the street from my house is also private. But because there aren’t a bunch of gates and “no trespassing” signs warning those who aren’t residents, or aren’t accompanied by a resident of Ken Caryl Ranch, to stay away, people come from all over to invade the park. 

Rangers and volunteers don’t patrol the park for some reason. They should, but they’re much more worried about protecting the hiking trails mostly used by the pretentious millionaires in the valley, than the neighborhood park mostly used by us “poor” people living on the plains. Still, I’m less than a five minute drive from the valley, assuming I don’t hit every red light along the way. So, it’s easy for me to get away from people and into the wilderness whenever I like. 

I didn’t go to the valley very often to get my exercise in, even after I figured out that I liked it. If the weather permitted it, I was outside at my own park or walking around the lake at Clement park, waiting for it to thaw out so I could go fishing. I also enjoyed hitting the gas station for a snack and a drink every time I went somewhere, and there isn’t an easily accessible gas station between my house and the trails in Ken Caryl Valley. 

These days, due to the new coronavirus pandemic, our state and county governments have implemented strict rules to curb the spread of the virus in the state. Parks and hiking trails are still open, but playgrounds, baseball diamonds, tennis and basketball courts, and picnic areas are all closed to the public. Since so many people don’t have work or school at the moment, they’re spending a lot of time outside, especially at the park across the street from my house. Since this pandemic began, I’ve constantly seen people playing and picnicking in the soccer field and walking around on the narrow sidewalks, completely disregarding the six-foot rule. It sucks that people just don’t care. I’d like to hang out at my local park again, but every time I look out my kitchen or dining room windows, I see lots of people outside being total idiots. 

However, during the day, I still need my exercise and outdoor time, even though I can’t really go to the park unless I want to get everyone else’s viruses. So, Mom and my therapist agreed to “force” me to go for a hike alone everyday, so long as the weather permitted it. Every week, we get a Ken Caryl Ranch newspaper that talks about all the cool things the neighborhood has to offer, what kinds of wildlife that’s been recently spotted, and also has a map showing all the private hiking trails in the neighborhood. I decided to look over the map to see if there were any trails I’d like to hit that weren’t too busy, but weren’t too isolated either. As much as I cherish being alone in the wilderness, I also like to be safe and smart. 

I called up my great uncle Courtney to ask for his advice on what to do if I encountered a predator, and ended up leaving my house with my sheathed bowie knife and an extra hoodie to wave around, in case a wild animal came too close for comfort. Even if it seemed friendly, I still wanted to keep my distance. Most of the time, if a deer comes walking up to you, it’s got something seriously wrong with it. The early stages of rabies, Chronic Wasting Disease, and brain worms often cause the animal to lose its fear of humans without being aggressive or showing signs of illness. Either that, or people feed them, which is not a good thing either. Deer usually aren’t aggressive, but they’re still wild animals that should maintain their fear of people. 

Also, as safe and populated as the valley is, there are predators roaming the neighborhood too. Every fall and spring, park rangers set up signs in Ken Caryl Ranch to remind us that bears like to eat trash, and will venture several miles east in search of it. And, every now and then, park rangers will receive reports of mountain cougar sightings, and put posters up on the bulletin boards near every trailhead, telling us to be careful and instructing us on what to do if we run into a mountain cougar. There are also a lot of coyotes roaming the neighborhood. I’ve seen plenty of them, and almost ended up plowing into one the other day, but thankfully I narrowly avoided having to pull over and peel a mangled coyote out of my truck’s grill. 

It took me less than five minutes to drive from my house to the trailhead I chose. It was easy to access. I just followed Ken Caryl Avenue into the valley and turned into a little parking lot on the side of the road. When I parked, there was only one other car there, and nobody else in sight. So, I got out, made sure I had everything I needed safely stowed in my hoodie pockets, locked up my truck so nobody could break in and steal my stash of my favorite gum, and headed northwest towards the trail. 

Giant red signs were posted everywhere by the trailhead, telling non-residents to take a hike elsewhere, which further comforted me. They meant the trails wouldn’t be packed if there was anyone on them at all. Plus, as a resident of Ken Caryl Ranch, I had every right to be on those trails. If a ranger questioned me, all I had to do was give them my address, and I’d be allowed to continue. 

Once I passed the trailhead, the natural world opened up to me. The valley was treeless, except for some barren, grey trees to the left on the western side, and an occasional red cedar to my right. Tiny blades of green, new grass were already starting to sprout above the flattened, dead grass from the winter before. Chalky red and beige boulders covered in spotty lichen protruded from the earth. The sky was clear except for a few wispy clouds here and there, and it was very warm except for a cool, gusty breeze. I felt right at home in that valley. It was so quiet and peaceful that, for a brief moment, I was taken back to my hunting trips, specifically the turkey hunt, which took place in a very similar environment. Only, the weather was actually very nice during my hike, while the weather during my hunting trips, especially during my wild turkey hunt, really, really sucked. 

I also felt a little sad about missing out on last year’s hunting season, and it sounds like hunting will be harder to do this year too. Outdoor Buddies had to really restrict who could go hunting with them during the fall due to the pandemic, since they expect the pandemic to resume in the fall if it slows down in the summer. So, I wasn’t picked to go. Hopefully, I’ll be able to snag a few Nebraska deer tags, assuming out-of-state hunters aren’t banned by then to discourage traveling. I would be in Nebraska for turkey hunting in a few weeks if people didn’t panic-buy every gun and box of ammo in the country, or if strict lockdowns weren't implemented. But, sometimes, that’s just how life works. I’ll hunt again soon. Maybe I’ll have to sit out another year, or maybe, just maybe, I’ll harvest a Nebraska whitetail this fall with my .243.

Anyway.