The journey
Posted on | February 24, 2010 | No Comments
Some things are coming together for me in ways I had not expected. The people I most want to be with — those I most admire — are coming into my life. No fanfare. Just a simple extension of the circle. And a lot of it has to do with the Pacific Crest Trail. The Trail is my spiritual and emotional center. And it feels as if I am accepting it, rather than defining it.
Walk well. God is love.
Zero day
Posted on | February 24, 2010 | No Comments
In hiker parlance, “zero day” means a day with the hiker spending two successive nights off trail. No hiking. A bit of a misnomer, as there is almost always a lot of work to be done: buying food and repackaging it, laundry, post office visit, route review, and lots of town food eating.
To me today it means nothing done. Zero. If I don’t take pain medication, I’m incapacitated by pain. If I take the pain erasers, I’m incapacitated by them. It is a loss of freedom. I rail against this loss.
Except about Republicans — and that’s understandable — I think that I seldom complain. But I do not like losing a day.
Walk well. God is love. At least I used to think so.
Pain
Posted on | February 23, 2010 | No Comments
Shingles.
Excruciating pain. The kind of pain that makes me want to shout, “It’s not fair!”
I usually go to the Veterans Affairs hospital in San Francisco, but wanted to get a diagnosis and treatment for the pain as soon as possible and went to the VA clinic in Oakland. Separate systems. Fill out forms. But. The staff were uniformly kind, quick, and professional. I am so very fortunate to have access to great medical care.
I am taking antivirals and serious pain medication, but there is still substantial pain.
My grandmother had shingles. She was a stoic woman. I never heard her complain. Until she had shingles. One of the ways she dealt with it was to write a poem about it. I wish I had a copy.
Walk well. God is love.
Chili tomorrow night
Posted on | February 22, 2010 | No Comments
Gottago just sent me a chili recipe.
Walk well. God is love.
Vivaldi: the Four Seasons
Posted on | February 22, 2010 | 1 Comment
Winter III: Allegro
You did not think I would remember. Did you?
Walk well. God is love.
Less anxiety
Posted on | February 22, 2010 | No Comments
It is what it is. Some think that a silly response. An evasion of the effort required for clear thought and response. Not I. An acceptance of reality. And an affirmation of letting go of worry.
I think the process I have been going through is somewhat typical: a massive case of the what-ifs. And I talked to Gottago today. Got to listen to her laugh and cajole. And just think. I get to hike with her.
I went next door to Bob’s house again to pitch my tarp and measure some silnylon so that I could cut it properly for a ground cloth. Hiked. Read trail journals. Did not garden. I love being 66!
Walk well. God is love.
Old people
Posted on | February 22, 2010 | No Comments
I think we have a tendency to be a bit smug.
I am corresponding with an older hiker. One with a wisdom I am learning from. One of the things I learned today was through his response about some gear. There is an item that he had recommended that got mediocre reviews at an online retailer. His response? ” . . . I didn’t expect a cure — I only hoped for an improvement.”
That leaves room for a lot more happiness.
Walk well. God is love.
Rain
Posted on | February 21, 2010 | No Comments
I brought lots of oranges inside. Took some up to Elaine.
Lemonade: planning and weighing. And trying to learn how to get a photograph off the iPhone and into Trailjournals.
Walk well. God is love.
How did I miss this?
Posted on | February 19, 2010 | No Comments
I am an inveterate reader of trail journals. Reading journals of Appalachian Trail hikers is what gave me the long distance hiking bug. And until I contacted the Manns to arrange to stay there two nights, I had not read their journal.
I am only as far as Scout’s second day on the trail:
- At the Annual Day Zero Pacific Crest Trail Kickoff: “And no one, no one here, asks The Question: ‘Why do you do this?’ There was one question, though, on almost every hiker’s lips. ‘How much water are you carrying?’”
- Also at the kickoff: “Not since Scout summer camp have I been at a place where the default position is that everyone is Kind.”
- At the border, the night before starting his hike: ” . . . but I wanted to do this, to mark this point with a vigil.” [I might imitate this. A very strong sense of what is holy.]
- And on a ligher note: “Isn’t it amazing what weather exists when you’re not in an air-conditioned office.”
Walk well. God is love.
North and south
Posted on | February 19, 2010 | No Comments
Jeff and I will stay with the Manns (Scout and Frodo) in San Diego for two nights. Then one of them will give us a ride to the trailhead at the Mexican border just south of Campo, California. Jeff and I have hiked north from there to Lake Morena at least three times.
The Manns are a thru-hiking couple, having completed the PCT in 2007. They put up aspiring hikers in their San Diego home, feed us, and take us to the trail. Trail angels. I am eager to meet them and hear some of their trail lore. They have hosted some of the hikers I find most fascinating. And they are good writers. I’m reading their 2007 PCT journal and came across this quote from Scout: “Isn’t there a law that says the words ‘Arctic’ and ‘San Diego’ must never appear in the same sentence?” It reminded me of when I lived in Santa Monica.
Southern Californians expect warm weather. All the time. When it was cool enough that Angelinos were uncomfortable wearing shorts, they would complain. A lot. Railing against the unfairness of the weather. I do not exaggerate. In the Bay Area, though, one never leaves the house without a sweater or jacket. It just isn’t done.
Walk well. God is love.
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