Dead turkeys mark our path today and the odd deer carcass remains from the shooting season. All is peaceful however as we stroll down the pipeline, heading for the brook, which we bridged with rocks and branches before paddling, ignoring the tiny, leaping spiders.
There is a pastoral view of cattle beyond the marshes and behind some extraordinary tall, wobbly hides dot the route and the odd mound for the cross-country motorbikes and assorted vehicles. We kinda love this place.
