With Phil on the west side of
Quabbin Reservoir, all on old jeep roads and a nice place to go during deer season because no hunting is allowed except on a couple of days of controlled hunts -- there used to be no hunting at all, but the deer herd got way too big and was eating all the young vegetation, which may have been great for orienteering or off-trail running, but not what the forest managers wanted. But then it's managed in a strange way anyway. No mountain biking or XC skiing allowed, might pollute the watershed, but boats are allowed on the water. Shows where the political power has been.
We stuck to the trails because everything was pretty wet after more rain last night and neither of us felt inspired to head off trail. That didn't keep us from getting wet, since it was still raining and there was lots of standing water around that we gave up trying to avoid after a while. One bit of standing water that we did avoid was where our intended route crossed Gulf Brook. The beavers must have been busy, becasue the crossing seemed like it would have been about a 30-yard swim. We turned around without any hesitation.
The USGS maps don't show all the trails, and of course they also show some that don't exist, and in the few times I've run there I've never managed to remember to write down map corrections, so there is always a bit of uncertainty as to where our route will take us. Added to that is the fact that we were actually on terrain covered by four different USGS quads (three of them 1:25,000, the SE one 1:24,000). I had a bit of concern when we were still heading south on a trail that I didn't recall having been on before and therefore wasn't sure if it came out where the map said, and at the same time the map, which I had neglected to put in a map case, was threatening to disintigrate in the rain. But I treated it with some very tender loving care and it stayed just together enough to keep me entertained all the way back.
Another thing keeping me entertained was bits and pieces of Bach's violin concerto in E. Now I'm about as musically inept as it's possible to be, but this tune had been playing on NPR as I drove over. The only reason I remembered it was many years ago I'd listened to it probably 3 or 4 times on a long plane flight and it had served to soothe my fragile nerves, so when it appeared on the radio it was like an old friend. I mentioned it to Phil and it was apparently an old friend to him too, dating back to a summer backpacking trip to Europe at age 18. He will have to fill in the details....
Oh, and the run? Longer than intended (the shorter route via hill 971 didn't seem to exist), but we hung in there well, keeping a good pace up all the uphills on the way back (accompanied from time to time by Mr. Bach). A fine outing and not a hunter (or a deer) to be seen.