Aaron Copelan wears the grin of a little boy who’s headed toward the freedom of the forest. He looks like he’s up to something — and you’re coming along.
"Buckle up," Aaron says. He points to an overhead grab handle inside the Jeep Rubicon at the Sandy Creek Sporting Grounds. “There’s your ‘chicken strap.’ You might need it.”
We’ve been on several offroad trails at the Sandy Creek Sporting Grounds over the years, but nothing like this one. The first 40 seconds of the ride are smooth and pleasant with an unobstructed view of the mirror-flat Gideon’s Pond behind the Sandy Creek Barn …until Aaron makes a sharp left turn. Before he takes us completely over the edge, he mercifully stops. We exit the Jeep and take a long look down.
Are you sure we’re in the right place?
Aaron is positive. As part of his training as a guide, he’s driven this technical offroad trail dozens of times. Yet even with all this experience, he still has to pause for a minute and take a deep breath of fresh Georgia air before proceeding down the steep embankment and into the belly of a 30-minute journey. These are precisely the reactions Bob Burns wanted when he designed the offroad courses at the Sporting Grounds.
The progression should take drivers and passengers from, ‘Wait, there’s no way we can do this,’ to ‘Wow, I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ to ‘Whoa, did we really do that?’ Along the way, you gradually build trust in the vehicle and confidence in your capabilities. But we don’t want you to be too confident.”
Bob has the smarts and skills to push an offroad experience to the narrow threshold of impossible while staying on this side of safety. He’s an engineer, a land surveyor, a physicist, and a lover of outdoor adventure (he also works as a firefighter in his spare time). He has designed offroad courses around the world, including half a dozen at Reynolds. Nature provides everything he needs. Trees are guardrails. A little fear is the brake.
“Driving this kind of course is like mastering a ski slope for the first time,” Bob says. “Everyone should walk away believing they accomplished something they never would have tried an hour earlier.”
The five trained guides at the Sporting Grounds point the way and give drivers a little nudge. Aaron is all smiles when he says to “just keep it slow and follow the plan,” no matter how crazy the plan sounds:
OK, we’re gonna go straight downhill and into a stream. Water will come up to the headlights. We’ll emerge on the other side and pass between tree trunks that almost brush the door handles. Try to relax over the logs. And just when we start to enjoy a nice calm meadow, be prepared to lean from side to side. Your ears will face upward while the wheels drop into a series of deep ruts.
That’s the first five minutes. It gets more interesting up ahead.
Another question looms: How did a physicist envision this thrill ride on an undomesticated canvas of land?
“There’s a black science to it that I can’t explain,” Bob says. “As a kid riding in our car, I’d imagine dirt-bike trails on the median of the highway. It’s like a musician who writes songs. You can’t answer the question, ‘How do you do it?’ All I can tell you is that I came out to the Sporting Grounds, walked the property for a few days, and knew where the offroad courses should run. I’m not sure if it’s a talent or a sickness, but it’s definitely a passion.”
He equates the offroad courses at the Sporting Grounds to the mysterious tunnels underneath Disney World, where the equipment and employees are hidden from plain sight. Nothing detracts from the immersive experience. At the Sporting Grounds, for example, guides occasionally sweep leaves and pine needles over the trails to give them an aged look.
“I’d rather use nature instead of changing it,” says Bob, who sometimes follows the paths created by guides with instincts stronger than his own: deer. “Their sense for terrain and their ability to remain unseen can provide a map for the ideal offroad ride.”
This ride goes over a terrain of rock piles, under low limbs, and down a muddy offroad version of a black diamond ski slope. Anyone who takes a moment to relax along the way and look up will notice views as breathtaking as the obstacles.
“Everything is here for a reason,” Bob says. Ultimately, he uses all of it to make Members and guests believe they’re 100 miles from civilization, on a trail that has been here forever.
