These pictures were taken in March, in case you’re wondering why there are no leaves. And if you notice the sky in all of these pictures is too bright/blown out/white, that would be my fault. The exposure meter on my camera was playing me. (Does anyone care? Probably not, but it annoys me. Anyway.)
 Where I live there are many, many Forest Service roads that just…go into the woods. We picked this one, on this particular day, and went for it.

There were remnants of old buildings.

And this absolutely, 100% terrifying sledding hill. 
We climbed it. Not straight up, because I didn’t want to pass out, but we went around to the right where the hill was less steep. 
I had to stop 4 times on the way up this hill. Meanwhile, my husband just waits for me, NOT EVEN OUT OF BREATH, as I’m dying. Slowly and painfully. (Not that I’m bitter about it or anything. It reminds me of the time he climbed this, only that time I was smart enough to stay on the damn ground.)

There’s a road at the top, and damn this was a tall hill. That’s a lake in the picture below. A big one. 

There is no way in hell I would sled down this hill.

None whatsoever. 

On the way out we came to this gate. This was not the way we came in; we somehow got turned around coming down from the hill. So my husband says, we just have to cut through the woods about 1/4 of a mile, and we’ll be back where we started. 
He starts leading me through the woods. No path, no trail, no nothing. 
The entire  time I argued with him that he was going the wrong way. I knew we were going the wrong way, I felt it deep down in my soul. Deep down in my plums. I had conviction. 
He ignored me, and after 20 minutes of walking, we came out where we started. I know I have absolutely no sense of direction, but this was just embarrassing. I should consider myself lucky that I know right from left.

And that’s my story for the day. Don’t trust me to read your maps. 
Have a good weekend,
– Magellan