As I write this month's column on Sept. 21, I really do think September has to be one of my favorite months.
It's a month when Colorado usually gets its first dusting of snow, the itch to start riding my sleds starts coming back and I get to spend 20 or so days chasing elk in the high country.
And that brings me to something I was thinking about this morning as I was hiking out of this absolute hell hole I got suckered into by a small herd of elk. I couldn't help but think these elk were probably just sitting there laughing at me as I was falling over logs, slipping on rocks and cursing the predicament I got myself into. But then it occurred to me as I was mumbling something about, "No one in their right mind would purposely want to be here," that this is probably the exact feeling a lot of people have when they come across one of my groups' tracks that start off so innocently but end up in the deep, dark abyss.
I often wonder how many times another group of riders gets caught following one of these tracks and are certain they are going to find a group of snowmobilers left for dead in the unforeseen death canyon the sled tracks head into.
When I'm out with a group I always have to remind people that it's called Burandt's Back Country Adventure for a reason. I can't count how many times I've seen the look on a client's face where he's wondering if his wife has worked out a deal with me to collect on his life insurance and I am taking him somewhere he will never return from. Boy is that a priceless look.
So I guess I finally got a taste of my own medicine. And in all honestly I think I liked it. It's good to be humbled every once in a while anyway. (Even if it's by an animal that can outsmart you in the woods, but thinks it's ok to walk in front of your car on the highway.)
But on the bright side, I did get a few more ideas on how to really put some snowmobile track in places where people might say, "Why did they go that way?"
Until next time,
Let it snow!