(I wrote this many years ago.)

Hiking's always been great in Steele's Creek with the snow on the ground even when it's melted on the roads. The lake is iced over. We broke off sheets and threw them on the lake. The ice would break in pieces and we'd see whose got the furthest.

On the Slagel Holler ridge, I'd get ahead on intention. Tried to ditch them behind. I had thrown my ice the furthest. They'd talk, and I'd say, "You think I came out here to hear you talk?"

When you throw the ice out it is whole. And then it breaks up in pieces; some of um get further then others. And mine got the furthest. And I was ahead too. Imagine it. The hills were all white so the darks stood out. One tree streched across the path ten feet up above my head. It was covered with snow and beautiful.

I'm all for exploring, so I took the wrong turn up top where the electrical towers are. But I might have should not, thought me and Frost, for one because they'd have to tell me "This ain't the way." But "this ain't the way" or not, they'd lag along like lapdogs to the end of this Earth.

I was only following a few footprints now. They follered more I guess. I wondered where it'd take me cause I'd never been before. I came to another tower and got burs on myself, looking up and thinking about clipping the wires like hair. Sooner or later the world'll need a hair cut. Sometimes you just need to hack it off.

I was coming onto somebody's property, so I'd have to turn around. I did and I past them. They broke into my thoughts a bit. "Leeches." I said, picking up my pace to beat them on the way back.