The Roads of the Pines
The morning sun filtered through the tall pines as the sound of engines echoed softly through the woods. Gianna, Brandon, and Nicholle were ready for another adventure with their timber rattlesnake friend, Slither.
“Alright gang,” said Gianna, checking her map. “We’re taking Old Wash Road today. It’s one of the oldest named roads in the Pine Barrens!”
Slither grinned, tipping his tiny adventure hat. “Old roads tell big stories. Some of these paths were used when wagons creaked and campfires lit the night. They’re part of the forest’s heartbeat.”
Everyone laughed as the Jeeps rolled down the sandy lane — until they rounded a corner and stopped short.
A large wooden barricade stood in front of them, covered in signs that read:
“ROAD CLOSED – NO MOTORIZED VEHICLES.”
Brandon turned off his engine. “Wait a second. This is a named road. It’s on the map, it’s been used for generations!”
Nicholle frowned. “Why would they close something that’s always been open to everyone?”
The little tree frog puffed out his chest. “No problem! I’ll jump over and check!”
He leapt dramatically, bounced off the sign, and landed on his back. “Ow! This road’s got attitude!”
Slither chuckled. “Nice try, Froggzilla. But instead of breaking rules, let’s learn the story behind this road.”
They sat beneath an old cedar tree while Slither shared one of his tales.
“Long ago,” he began, “these roads were built for access for coal production, iron ore transport, and the people who worked these woods. They were even clear cut at one time. That oughta tell ya how resilient these woods are. Firefighters, cranberry harvesters, and travelers all relied on these routes. They’ve been here since the 1800s, long before there were park rangers or pavement.”
Gianna tilted her head. “So they were meant for everyone?”
“Exactly,” said Slither. “They were built by the people and for the people. Not to hurt the forest, but to reach it. The problem isn’t the roads themselves. It’s when they’re misused. The forest bed needs care, not road closure.”
Nicholle nodded slowly. “So maybe we can teach people how to use the forest the right way.”
“Bingo,” said Slither. “Education, not elimination.”
Back at the clubhouse, the gang worked all afternoon on an idea. They called it “The Venom Stewardship Plan.”
It read:
1️⃣ Keep all named legal roads open to the public — they’re part of history and heritage.
2️⃣ Teach everyone how to drive responsibly and stay on existing roads.
3️⃣ Clearly mark which roads are best for two and four wheel drive vehicles. Bikes, or hiking, and everything in between. So everyone stays safe.
4️⃣ Protect the forest bed — it’s not the road that needs saving, it’s the ground around them.
5️⃣ Clubs, families, and friends can volunteer to clean, maintain, and report damage.
Brandon held up the poster proudly. “We’re not fighting the forest — we’re fighting for it!”
The frog added, “And maybe we can paint the signs bright green! Easier for my little froggy eyes.”
Everyone laughed.
A week later, the crew headed back out, driving slowly through the sandy maze of unpaved roads. Along the way, they saw horseback riders trotting down a side path. Mountain bikers kicking up dust. Kayakers hauling boats toward the river. Hunters heading out at dawn, and photographers capturing the morning fog.
Gianna smiled. “Look, everyone uses the forest in their own way — and they all respect it.”
“That’s the beauty of it,” said Slither. “Different wheels, boots, and hooves — one forest, shared by all.”
That weekend, they met Ranger Nick at Batsto Village. Gianna carefully unrolled their stewardship plan.
“Sir,” she said, “these roads were made by people who loved this forest. If we lose access to them, we lose part of history — and a chance to teach others how to care for it.”
The ranger studied the plan for a moment, then smiled. “You know, you’re right. These named roads have always been part of the Pine Barrens. Maybe with more education and help from groups like yours, we can protect both the forest and the freedom to explore it.”
Slither nodded proudly. “That’s all we’re asking for — partnership, not prohibition.”
The frog saluted. “Team Stewardship, reporting for duty!”
That evening, as the Jeeps rolled home and the sunset lit the pines in gold, Gianna looked out the window.
“You know,” she said softly, “maybe the best way to keep the forest safe is to keep people learning in it.”
Slither grinned. “Exactly. These roads are living history. They connect people to nature. And when we drive with care, we’re not just exploring the forest… we’re helping protect it.”
He rattled his tail with a wink.
“Now let’s hit the snack shack. Stewardship burns a lot of calories!”
The kids burst out laughing as the Jeeps rolled down the sandy road — not to destroy it, but to keep it alive, just as it had been since the 1800s.
Author’s Note for Readers & Families
The unpaved, named legal roads of the Pine Barrens are part of New Jersey’s history — used for over a century by locals, first responders, and families exploring the forest.
The Pine Barren Venom Jeep Club and other user groups believe in responsible access and active stewardship — keeping roads clean, safe, and open for everyone while respecting nature and wildlife. Push to keep our historic roadways of Wharton State Forest open.
“Education is protection. Stewardship is freedom.”