They take the “Authority” part very seriously

Western Virginia Water Authority, that is. We had a bit of a run-in. A mutually destructive situation, if you will.

We return to my trail running saga. It is hard to find routes that check every box for a perfect run:
1. parking
2. water access for Remy
3. length with diverging trail options
4. infrequent foot traffic

There is a large lake on the outskirts of Roanoke that is the reservoir for the city’s water supply. It is pristine and surrounded by mountains with dozens of trails. However, you’re not allowed to swim or enter the water; you can only paddle or fish on it. I like running there because it offers such a variety of trails: wide gravel paths, single track dirt, steep climbs, or rolling hills. After exploring a few of these I thought it would be fun to run around the entire lake. I pored over the Strava map and put together a decent route; I would have to piece it together using a variety of official trails, a small amount of bushwacking, and some unexplored dotted lines that I assumed were trails.

We parked in our usual spot and set off. I typically run in the mountains around my house and there are several fire roads that are maintained by the state. These roads give direct access to hard to reach places on the mountains in case of emergency. Depending on the time of year, the gates are either open or closed, for hunting season, for fire season, I don’t really know the rhyme or reason to it. The important point here is that I don’t think twice about passing through an open gate.

Remy and I were on track, we went through an open gate and took a left. We needed to run along a small creek and then cut up a steep scramble to get to the ridge. Once on the ridge, we would go along a dotted line for about a mile, then drop into the officially maintained trail section of the reservoir. We jogged past the actual dam. It was big. I realized the steep scramble had too much undergrowth. After I consulted the map I decided we would pass straight forward to a small neighborhood road, run that for about half a mile, then cut up into the woods on another dotted line, which I assumed to be a neighborhood trail that connected into the reservoir network.

It was not any of those things. All of my assumptions thus far were incorrect.

As we headed towards that road it dawned on me that there was quite a lot of chain link fencing popping up. Most of it had barbed wire toppers and if my judgment was correct I was on the wrong side of that fencing. I then started to notice several megaphone speakers mounted on top of the barbed wire. I also saw some cameras. This was looking very un-neighborly and downright aggressive. I saw some buildings and a large gate, lots of angry signs. I also discovered at this point that I forgot to pack Remy’s leash, so he’s just wild-man running everywhere.

I was at a critical juncture where I must make a decision. Do I continue past several cameras with my rogue canine and try to get through the very locked gate to the road that may access another trail, or do I bag it, turn around, and get out of there?

I chose option B, we started casually sprinting back towards the creek when I saw a small white pickup truck meandering towards us. I froze. He rolled his window down and without making eye contact we began a very cautious conversation.

Me: I’m trying to get out of here, I promise.
Man: See ma’am, you’re not supposed to be here.
*negative 10 points for calling me ma’am but yes, I know*
Me: That is becoming very clear.
Man: The problem is, I left a gate open back there.
Me: That sounds like the gate I went through.
Man: Right. ‘Cept I’m not supposed to leave that gate open.
Me: I can see why. People like me.
Man: It’s a pain to get out and close that gate when I’m just through it for a minute to check the dam, so I leave it open. For a minute.
Me: Sounds like that minute is when I went through.
Man: Imma need you to run back where you came from and in about 5 minutes I’m gonna go back and close that gate.
*pause*
Me: I see.
Man: Mhm.
*eye contact during which I get a very strong “I won’t tell if you won’t tell” vibe*
Me: Got it.

So I did. Remy and I hightailed it out of there, back through the gate, back to the car, and out onto the road.

It turns out all those dotted lines on the map are actually reservoir maintenance roads, not unofficial trails. It turns out that neighborhood I thought the road went through was reservoir outbuildings and offices.

The next week I did the North Mountain run, I was out there for about 4 hours. Hubs sends me a text with a picture of an envelope addressed from the Western Virginia Water Authority and my name is hand written.

Hubs: They’re comin’ for ya.
Me: What? You think? No way. How would they know it’s me?
*I’m genuinely panicking at this, I don’t know why, some deep rooted fear of authority*
Hubs: Nah it’s probably a coincidence. Unless they have facial recognition cameras. Which is possible.
Me: Oh my word.

I spent the next three hours having a silent freak out that if I came down from the mountain armed guards would be waiting for me and haul me off to reservoir jail.

I know it’s irrational! I know! But you can’t make the anxiety stop, that’s why it’s called “irrational.”

Do you want to know what that envelope was? I’m not writing this from a jail cell so we know that’s off the table.

It was a parking pass I had ordered three days prior. A parking pass so I could legally access all the trails surrounding the reservoir instead of parking on a side street and sneaking my way in.

I panicked for three hours over making the right choice.