I wasn't ready to go back, so I forged ahead, onto Toothpick Road. There were trees and homes tucked away in them. There was a steady descent. Most of all, there was the promise of the park at the end of it all. A small brown sign I hadn't noticed before pointed me in that direction.
And sure enough, two brief turns later, I was crossing the bridge that leads to the park. Water to the left of me, water to the right of me, all shining in the late-day sun.
I thought about the route I had been taking, which was several miles longer. I couldn't wait to get back to the house and tell everyone about the shortcut I'd found.
But my news was greeted with confusion. Everyone else had already discovered Toothpick Road. Their GPS programs had routed them that way from the beginning, whereas I, well, I hadn't been using an app to get to the lake, thinking I knew the way from last year.
Still, a shortcut can be a glorious discovery, even when it's old news.