No Trespassing

Finding fun exercise locations in and around Sunnyside generally involves a wee bit of trespassing in one way or another. Some trespassing isn't really trespassing because canal roads are public property and while many orchard roads are private, other orchard roads are unmaintained county roads. But which are which? I am never entirely certain, but I cling to my ignorance and continue in bliss, waving at any farm workers like I belong. They are so nice, it feels like I belong.

I. Moderate trespassing with probable permission

On Monday after school drop-off, I decided to run up the Superman hill, a privately owned orchard area with an iconic symbol painted on its tower. Jeff has talked with the owner, though, and has permission to run up there in small groups, not during the main agricultural work seasons. Basically, we can't take our cross country team for a group run up there during harvest (live and learn). I want to get my legs into trail running shape so I need a good hill run every week, and Superman hill is the coolest hill in town. It's also one of the only hills in town. My legs need hills so the trails don't kill them off too badly this summer. That is, if this winter's heaviest mountain snowfall in 20 years ever melts enough for trail running before autumn, I want to be ready for it! 

So I parked at BiMart and went on a run up the Superman hill, tackling nearly 700 feet of elevation gain over 2.5 miles. It was a chilly breezy ridgeline run once I got up the hill. After a few miles I decided to turn south and make a loop back to the car. The downhill dirt road I chose was so steep I had to walk parts of it, but eventually it brought me out onto a canal road, which I followed back to town. Nine miles: done.

The approach. The Superman tower itself is only partway up the actual ridge. I kept going beyond.

I am Superwoman and the Yakima Valley is my cape.

Heading down.

II. Full-on trespassing without permission 

On my bike ride Tuesday, I got cocky and yielded to temptation when all of the gates were open north of Washout Rd. Those gates are always closed and there is a beguiling gravel road that climbs up, up, up into the hills. I know because few years ago I climbed the fences and ran up it. It doesn't help that in much of Europe, the "right to roam" is an actual practice wherein people can respectfully cross undeveloped lands, no matter who owns it. The right to roam was on my mind when I saw those open gates on Tuesday, and it beguiled me into trespassing.

So I rode through all of the open gates and a cattle guard, past a no trespassing sign, and was 2 miles up a gnarly gorgeous climb when a bearded cowboy in an ATV stopped me and turned me back with warnings of overprotective mama cows charging at me, "ruffians" with shotguns (his words), and private property. He did give me the phone number of the landowner, in case I wanted to call for permission to ride up that way. I said sorry and turned right around, feeling immensely sheepish guilty for the rest of my 18 mile ride. Maybe someday I'll scare up the courage to call that phone number and ask for permission. Maybe. 

It's one thing to trespass accidentally (been there, done that, had the police called on me, still scared of that neighbor two years later) and another thing to trespass with secondhand permission (Superman hill), but it's an entirely different beast to be caught red-handed, knowingly trespassing two miles past a sign. 

Baa. Sheepish Shaina.

But LOOK at that gorgeous view! The hills were ALIVE and they filled my heart with the sound of music. How could I possibly resist? Not an angry mother cow or shotgun-wielding ruffian in sight.

Baa.