The thousand word picture Part 2

When I posted the picture last week I asked for some comments and received a few. They ranged from "courage" to "sleep walking".   I think that I captured some of the essence of what long distance hiking is all about.

First the picture. I could have staged a shot and fixed a few technical problems, but this was truly a snapshot. I like the composition. I like the way the trees are lit, the way our model was lit, the way the light looks like it is pushing at her. I like the placement of everything in the shot and I did not crop the final result. I like how our hiker interacts with the scenery and is the center of attention but still part of everything. Sometime you just get lucky ...

Then there is the feeling of action. There is a timeline in this picture; I see her putting one foot in front of the other, moving through the picture even though it is a frozen moment in time.  I see the confidence and determination; she looks strong with just a hint of fatigue.  She is definitely going somewhere.

She is walking on a trail, but in front of her everything disappears into a white nothingness. She does not know what is around the next corner or where exactly the adventure will lead. Behind her is a complete scene --- trees and trail and a sparkling, colorful landscape. It's like she is creating her environment as she goes. The experience belongs to each person and each hiker has the opportunity to make it into something uniquely their own.  She was choosing, or so it seems, to make special and and beautiful moments.

There is a story behind this picture.  This was day seven of hiking and we had been through a lot.  The day before we had watched EMS crews evacuate a friend with a broken arm off the mountain. We had spent a long night in a buggy, fairly awful shelter. We were all tired. Together we had done about 3 miles that morning and at a road crossing I bailed out so she could complete the last 15 miles in one high-speed push.  Her pack stripped of excess gear to lighten up, it was already 11:30 when she took off "slack-packing".

The rest of the team arrived to pick me up and we immediately set out to park at the next possible road crossing a few miles away to offer some "trail magic" in the form of ice water, cold drinks, snacks and our injured friend in the truck feeling better with her new sling on. That is where I grabbed my camera and took this picture. 

When I see that picture it takes me back to that day and everything that was going on. I see a woman who fought hard to get to this place and overcame all of the obstacles to push on. I see someone boldly walking towards the unknown and not breaking her stride.   I see a hiker that will achieve goals yet still enjoy the beauty around her.  I see a picture that tells not only her story, but shows anyone what it is like to be a backpacker on a difficult trail living life one step at a time.  

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Note:  Laura and Cristina completed this hike together and arrived in Damascus safe.  This blog was about this picture, but I would not feel right without mentioning Cristina and her efforts too.  Step by step she hiked this hike and inspired her own stories that are coming.  She completed every mile including this 18 mile day and I applaud her strength and courage.   A picture of them together would have told a bigger story but technology or my skill as a shooter did not allow that. 

Cristina (front) and Laura during their 15 mile slackpack and 18 mile day, arriving at the Trail Magic intercept point

The thousand word picture

I assume everyone would come up with a different story about what is happening here.  Some would see a picture of an attractive woman, others would see a hiker, some may wonder about where the trail came from or where it goes, others may be interested in the conditions, or her state of mind.

This picture jumped out at me and I really like it, and not just because Laura is featured in it or because I took it. There are a lot of interesting things happening in this picture and I wonder what someone sees who did not share in the experience. I think it tells a number of stories about this adventure and about hiking in general.

Take a moment and comment on my Facebook page at www.facebook.com/selectadventure.  Tell me what you see or how this picture makes you feel. 

I will post my thoughts in a future blog.  

Overnight at "Double Bug" Shelter

My little group was dwindling.  Six hikers had shrunk to three.  Kenny was ahead of the bunch, last we had seen of him was before Watauga Lake.  Cathie had been plucked off the mountain by Carter Co Search and Rescue just that morning and Andy had accompanied her.  Cristina, Laura and I had decided to press on despite a mix of emotions.  Cristina wanted to get off the mountain, I was overly concerned about water on the trail, and Laura was trying hard to hold it all together while dealing with her concern about Cathie and the group.

I remember that the trail was not exceptionally difficult that day, but it seemed to keep going up and up and up.  I think I was just discouraged when we got to the road but a debate ensued for quite a while before we decided to hike out again.  We needed to decide if we were going to bail out at the road and reset in Damascus, or keep going.  Emotion was running high.

We had just topped off our water and we were heading to a shelter called Double Springs.  Earlier we had encountered a hiker who had given us a good report on water at that site, but a group of young people came by and told me they had been unable to find water.  After my two water emergencies that did not strike a real positive note with me.  I voiced my concern to Laura who snapped back and held my commitment to the light of day.   She also reminded me that listening to trail reports from three rather awkward looking young people was not the same as getting a thumbs up from an experienced hiker, and that we would press on and find what we need because that is what happens. I had to overcome my fears.

I realized at that point I was just letting everything get to me and I really had to go all in or get out.  I opted to stick with it ... she was right. We were still strong, we had food and water, the weather was fine, and we had a destination called Double Springs.  Figured we would find at least one of them!  Cathie was safe and we had decided to press on.  I had to trust in my team, trust in myself, and do what I had come to do.

Glad I stuck with it because soon we were crossing a really nice part of the trail through some active pasture complete with cows -- and we were on the same side of the fence that they were.  Making a mental note to not mention anything about my beef eating habits until we were out of earshot, we cruised past the cows who gave us a few disinterested glances and resumed munching grass.  Soon enough we had climbed the second fence and were back in the woods.  This little interlude of sunshine, nice views, and pleasant terrain gave me a second wind.  Unfortunately I did not manage to take any pictures, but the images are pressed in my memory and I think I just needed to hike and immerse myself back into my goal.

Soon enough we found Double Springs shelter and we set up camp. Though we had the shelter to ourselves we soon found out we actually had company in the form of thousands of little flying gnats.  Cristina swept out the shelter and set her tent up on the platform.  After a thorough search of the uneven grounds Laura and I ended up huddling our tents together on the only flat surface we could find.

Laura with her color coded gear, and note one camp shoe, one boot, one bandanna knee compression device and her commercial knee brace slid down to her ankle.  This kind of abandonment of style was par the course of all of us.

Cristina's tent on the shelter platform

Laura and Todd sharing the single flat surface.  No fire tonight!

 I doused myself with a more than liberal amount of 100 percent DEET.  Barely legal and not advised for anyone who fears any number of strange diseases, it did keep the bugs away so I could cook and eat my dinner.  Laura cooked and ate her dinner while walking around.  Cristina noted that the leaves of all the trees were thick with some sort of bug ... but in true outdoor fashion it was more a curiosity than a concern and most hikers tend to not worry about anything that is not going to actually drag you in the woods and devour you.  The bugs could wait, I had dinner to eat and sleep to work on.

The bugs subsided, and the evening cooled off a bit.  Cristina hopped into her tent and fell asleep.  Laura and I, true owls in the woods, sat up for a bit and enjoyed one of those nice interludes that make all the work worthwhile.  The moon came out and we tried to take pictures.  We heard an owl in the distance.  We talked about whatever and remembered to try to not wake up Cristina, just few feet from the table in her tent.  We looked at pictures and sipped water and just enjoyed the night, being out on the trail and some peaceful and fun time together.  Eventually we unwound and realized we were tired and we dispatched ourselves to our tents for some sleep. 

The next thing I remember is waking up to a loud buzz.  It sounded like a fly had gotten stuck in my tent fly.  Actually it sounded like a lot of flies.  I crawled out of my tent and puttered over to the table.  Cristina and Laura were not up yet, so I quietly brewed a cup of coffee.  Sitting at the table, sipping my drink, I hear that same buzzing all around me.  In the early morning light, with my glasses off and my awareness dulled from a deep sleep, I slowly start to notice that the ground seems to be moving.  I stare at the motion to find it is flies.  Hundreds of flies, lazily flying around the site.  I recall the bugs on the leaves.  They were now awake.  I watch with mild interest, so deep into life in the woods that I really don't care so long as they are doing their thing and not coming after me.

Cristina stirs and calls out,"What is going on out there?"
She is hearing the fly ruckus too.  "It's flies.  Everywhere."
"Is it bad?" she asks.
"It's like the I-75 of flies out here," I reply, referring to our busy Cincinnati/Dayton interstate highway.

With some efficiency we finished our breakfasts,  Laura woke up to about the same question and answer routine, and she soon emerged from her tent to face the flies.  With even more efficiency we packed and headed out of there.  Double Springs shelter was not an ideal overnight place, probably due to overuse, a lack of leave no trace habits, and perhaps the location and timing.

That was night six in the woods.  It turned out to be our last night.  Wish it had been a pristine campsite but we made it work.  We had some campsites that were great, so one out of six is not bad.  I slept just fine and yes, Double Springs had plenty of water.  We were fed, watered, rested and ready to tackle another day.

Fall on Iron Mountain

Fourteen miles, that is a long day.  I had been nervous about it since the beginning, but we were nearing the end.   We were uncertain about how far we had come, but Andy had mentioned that once we pass under a set of power lines, we would be close to camp.  It was a great relief to see that landmark and soon we came across a beautiful tent camping area right next to the water source.

A quick break to stake out a tent spot and we decided to fetch water before it got too dark.  A smooth, gentle downhill path led to a brisk stream with clean water.  One by one we secured our water collection gear and headed out.  Suddenly I heard a crashing noise in the brush, and a shout of pain.  Someone had fallen! I hurried down the path to find Cathie on the ground and Andy starting an assessment. We all fall now and again on these trails, little did we know at the time how serious it was.  I helped out for a minute and gave Andy some EMT tips but figured it was just a bump or strain.  Once she sat up, it started to develop into something far more serious.

A primary assessment revealed that she could not move her right arm, I palpated the elbow and noted that is appeared to be dislocated.  Circulation, sensation and motor skills were OK, so she cradled her arm and with Andy's help worked her way back to camp.  I quickly headed to the stream to tank up on water (an exhausted dehydrated spacy medic would not have contributed much to the cause) and scurried back to camp.  A better secondary exam performed by Andy and myself revealed that the damage to Cathie was limited to her arm, no other injuries and thankfully she did not hit her head when she fell.  I could not tell if anything was broken, but the dislocation was apparent from her limited range of motion. 

Andy and Cristina fashioned a sling out of assorted bedclothes (including I think some elastic long underwear) while I tried 911 on my phone.  We had cellular service at this campsite, and thankfully we all had mostly charged phones.  I did not expect much from 911, and once I described a non-critical patient they advised that we needed to hike out in the morning.  If anything changed, I was to call back, but with night coming on they were not going to mount a rescue for a dislocated elbow on a mobile, conscious, and otherwise healthy patient. 

Together we formed quite a team.  Andy was the primary caretaker and did an excellent job.  I was advisory medic and worked on locating Kenny (who had hiked on ahead after Wataugu Lake but was in a better spot to perhaps secure a vehicle), Cristina became the nurse, assisting Cathie with changing and getting comfortable, and Laura phoned an emergency room doctor.

The doctor talked to Cathie and reviewed her medical history and prescriptions, then we all listed what medications we had brought with us, and the doctor pulled together a plan for what to give Cathie to safely help alleviate her pain.

Andy and Cathie working on the travel sling

Cathie ate some dinner and we carefully tucked her away in her tent, where she spent a long, sleepless night.  The next morning Andy called the National Forest Service, who agreed to arrange for Carter Co EMS to send a team up to meet us by the power lines we had passed the night before.

Cathie and Cristina finishing up the sling

A better sling was fashioned from a water bladder that was partially inflated with air, and a tent ground cover.  This strange looking but effective sling kept her arm immobilized while she walked nearly a mile on the trail to get to the pickup point.  

Looking down the valley where the rescue vehicle came up

Cathie and her ground cover sling

Soon we saw a glint of light way down in the valley. A few minutes later an ATV was spotted coming up the hill, followed by a 4x4 Tahoe.  The Carter County Search and Rescue team had arrived.

Search and Rescue

Carter Co Search and Rescue

S&R, Cathie, Laura, Cristina

Pulling around to pick up Cathie and Andy

The powerlines

They quickly picked up Cathie and Andy and headed back down the way they came.  In seconds it was done.  Cristina, Laura and I were in shock, but we had agreed to keep going.  Sending the whole team down would have burdened the rescuers and would have contributed to logistical problems once off the trail.  The easiest thing to do was to keep moving forward and finish the hike to Damascus.  Once there we could all regroup and see what was next. 

Cathie was simply amazing.  The pictures tell the story, showing her with a smile on her face even though she was in intense pain.  She first offered to head down alone with the rescuers to not disrupt Andy's hike, but anyone who has ever been to an ER with a serious injury eventually appreciates someone with them.  It also allowed for a healthy person to carry her stuff, and to drive the car to get her back to Damascus.  At one point at camp she was even insisting that she be allowed to carry her pack, a request that of course was ignored and Andy carried her gear to the pickup point. 

We hiked on, down to three people in our team.  As we pushed on that day it was nerve-wracking, wondering about Cathie and deciding whether or not to bail out at the next road. We were also relieved at the relative ease which we had evacuated Cathie to a hospital.  One minute we are in crisis mode, the next minute she is gone, safely in the hands of professional rescuers. 

That alone requires comment -- relative ease.  She fell around 8:30 at night and got pulled off the mountain about 11:00 the next day.  That is 14 1/2 hours with not much treatment other than some slings and a handful of pain medicines.  She had to walk close to a mile to get to the evac point. 

That is life in the wilderness. The nearest road was close to 5 miles hiking on rough terrain.  The trail was on a steep ridge, so bushwhacking down would have been difficult, if not impossible.  We had some modern tools, such as our cell phones.  Plus this is an eastern trail near people, so we had the powerline access trail for the vehicles.  We also found out later that nearby Iron Mountain Shelter was accessible by vehicle.  Even with all that, we were pretty much on our own that night.   Of course a more severe problem or a medical emergency would have prompted a more aggressive response by local officials.  We were not in a dire emergency, but I would imagine it would have taken a number of hours to get someone up that hill in the best of responses.  That really makes me think about the possibilities, but that is why I train hard and constantly evaluate my capabilities.  I am still in this game ... and so is Cathie. 

Pond Mountain and Subway Pt 2 of 2

I had just climbed 1800 feet, descended 1800 feet, stopped at a beautiful lakeside park to get embroiled in controversy, one of our group had disappeared ahead, and some of the ideas floated about the rest of the day were less than appealing.  I was ready for a easy day as planned -- I was not even going to do that mountain and now my break at the lake was dissolving away and extra miles were in store!

That was when the idea was presented to head to town and secure some Subway sandwiches.

Junk food Nirvana

I have nothing against Subway, it is a staple of my urban lunch routine and many a conference call (carefully muted) involves munching down a sub to pass the time.  However in the woods, after three days of dehydrated food and energy bars and water, just the thought of a big, sloppy sub was too good to be true.  That it was within the realm of possibility was simply beyond words.

Andy recruited Cathie to hitchhike with him to town.  Not a proponent of that activity, while on the Appalachian Trail it is part of the routine.  Cathie had never hitched, and to her amazement the second car stopped and the driver happily took them to town.  My Subway order went with them, along with a special request to secure me a cold Pepsi.

I am enjoying that 20 oz Pepsi

While they were gone, Cristina stretched out in the sun and relaxed.  Laura and I splashed around in the lake and cooled off.  The gorgeous afternoon turned lazy and pleasant and sooner than expected they were back -- Subway, Kettle Chips, my Pepsi along with assorted other cold drinks, and cookies.  I applaud them for a job well done.  The five of us crowded around the table and feasted, enjoying this simple meal as much as 5 star cuisine.

 

Laura 

Sometimes the best part of backpacking is how much I appreciate the little things that I take for granted when I can get back to them.  A hot shower, a cold drink, real food, air conditioning.  This break not only appeased our hunger, but it changed our mood.  By the time we were done we were all content to hike on the camping area that was originally planned about 2 miles or so down the trail.  Mostly because we had used up so much time.  But I also think that we had relaxed and become content with just being out there and not being so focused on clocking miles.

This time spent together is one of my favorite memories from the trail. 

Andy, Laura, Cristine, Cathie

Pond Mountain and Subway Pt 1 of 2

The very sound of it is idyllic and sweet.  "Pond Mountain".  You picture a pretty little pond, lilypads, frogs, perhaps a wood nymph or two, or Pan playing his pipes as the animals frolic about.

Yeah right.  The reality of Pond Mountain is an 1800 foot vertical elevation change over about 2 miles, with limited views and no real reward at the top such as a panoramic vista or any of the aforementioned items.  I am not even certain I actually saw a pond.

After three days of high humidity, heat, and assorted issues with water, I was ready for a break.  The day before I had floated the idea of skipping Pond Mountain and joining Laura (who had hiked this already last year, and was also planning to skip it to ensure her knees would last the entire trip) on a shortcut to Watauga Lake park.  I was fighting with assorted symptoms of dehydration and was experiencing "day four syndrome" where the cumulative effects of this much exertion were playing a role in mental fatigue.

Andy has been pushing me to reconsider, and even Laura, our resident supporter of "hike your own hike", had suggested that I would feel bad about skipping a section.  Waking up that morning near Laurel Falls along an endless supply of water, I was starting to get rehydrated and after a quick check on how I felt, I decided I was going to give it a go.  Seems the feeling was contagious, because Laura decided to go for it too, and together with Andy we tackled the mountain as a team of three -- the rest of the hikers had forged on ahead to give themselves plenty of time and were planning on reforming the team at the lake.

The climb was hard, no doubt about that, but soon enough I found myself at the top.  Andy and Laura had gotten ahead after I took a "bio-break" and I did not catch up with them for some time.  Without the synergy of the group it was a lot harder to take each step, but I forced myself onward and upward and fought my own demons to keep moving.  Giving up was not an option, and I rewarded myself with quick breaks, allowing just enough time to burn off the lactic acid in my legs and to allow my pulse to slow a few beats.

Making things harder was a few false "summits" but I could tell I was getting close and the steep parts were behind me.  A corner or two and I caught up, only about 10 minutes behind.  Not bad, not bad at all.

The downhill was fun ... 1800 feet back down to the elevation where we started.  But this time I leaped forward, using my stride and momentum to carry me down the hill fast enough to secure a 10 minute break to wait for them to catch up.  You take your victories when you can!  In all honesty it was not a competition, though, it's just a lot harder on my knees to put the brakes on my weight and with a clean, smooth path I was better off just moving forward and gliding downhill.

Andy had staged a watermelon near the edge of the park, and together with our uneaten and unmolested prize in hand we exited the park and returned to civilization.  Kind of.

Watauga Lake park was full of cars and families, running water, and flush toilets.  That was about it for amenities.  We secured a picnic table and took some time to relax.  Cathie and Cristina has waited for us for hours while Kenny had grown weary of the delays and had pushed on.  Remember they were still thinking that Laura and I were short-cutting and fully expected to see us there at the beach already.    Andy would have double-timed it, so now we were hours off schedule due to our late start and a fairly slow hike up, over and down Pond Mountain.

Over slices of watermelon, the debate ensued as to when to leave and how many more miles to clock.  The two that had been there for hours were ready to leave, while the second wave was ready for a break.  Ideas were floated to go past our scheduled camp, but that would require getting on the trail.  I wanted to wade and relax and get my second wind.  Five of us came up with what seemed like dozens of opinions and the conversation was getting a bit contentious when someone, Andy I think, had a stroke of genius.

He and Cathie would hitchhike to nearby Hampton, Tennessee and secure food and cold drinks.

To be continued ...

Baby Bird

I can't recall the last time I worried about water.

Every backpacking trip I have ever been on has centered around water.  I get hot when I hike and I sweat a lot, so my water needs run higher than the average hiker.  Carrying enough water for me is like stuffing a bowling ball in the backpack.  It's a difficult weight vs benefit trade-off, since water is so critical for survival. 

In my peaceful suburban world there is not a lot of survival going on. Water flows from taps and the biggest danger I face each day is driving to work in a Subaru with 6 airbags.  It takes a while to become attuned to nature's lurking dangers.  It has been a long time since my last truly substantial backpacking trip and I will admit that I was rusty with my skills and allowed a beginner mistake to reach problem status.

It was day three on the trail and we were camping in a place where water access was difficult.  I had just used all my water for breakfast so I was hydrated, but empty.  The map showed a reliable water source just one mile down the trail.  Thus began the chain of errors ... my rule to never skip a water source had just been broken.  But it was just a mile and we had passed a number of unmarked but flowing water sources the day before.  Sounds simple, hike less than an hour and tank up.

The rest of the group had started and were far ahead, leaving me and Laura hiking together.  As we walked the beautiful valleys I began to notice that this side of the mountain seemed a lot drier.  I crossed a little smudge of water on the trail, but it was nothing much more than a muddy mess.  The map said reliable!  So we passed it by, thinking the reliable source was just around the next corner or at the bottom of the next valley.

Soon we realized we were well past the marked water spot with miles to go before the next marked water source. This began my baby bird procedure ... since Laura had about a liter in her pack, every 15 minutes or so we would stop and she would give me a drink out of her supply. To get water I stood right beside her, she would hand me the short tube, and I would take a drink.  We weren't uncomfortable with that, but it did give us the rough impression of a baby bird getting fed.

We caught up with the group on the trail when they were taking a break.  I explained my dilemma and they came up with about a liter to keep me going.  Bear in mind they too were rationing water having not filled up at camp, but they had calculated for themselves and not for a big, sweating, water-consuming teammate.  Soon they departed for our next waypoint, a hostel about 5 miles away.  Laura and I were drifting behind, our pace being significantly slower and we were still on break when they left.  A liter of water did not last me long, even stretching it out as much as I could. I at least remembered to stay hydrated even if it means running out quicker.

We reached a known point on the map where we stopped to evaluate our situation.  Straight ahead was the main trail or we could turn right and get on another trail to a marked reliable water source down a 600 foot hill.  It was a three mile hike to reach the hostel with unlimited running water.  Oh the temptation ... yet the reality was that it could take two to three hours in that terrain and the the day was getting hotter.  I sat down on a stump and felt a slight wave of nausea.  The decision was made ... I was turning right and climbing down and back up that infernal hill because I was not going to pass up another water source.  Laura readily agreed.

In a bit of a funk, we headed down that trail.  I noted that a stream was just to our right behind some bushes, and in a few hundred more yards we eyeballed the trail as it descended down for what looked like forever.  Not keen on that climb, the stream was going to be our source.  I would do whatever it took to fish some water out of it.  We turned back and got to the most likely spot, I grabbed my water gear and headed in.  Behind some bushes was a stream that was clean and clear, and deep enough to scoop water!  Which I did with great vigor.  Thanks to a Steripen uV water sterilizer, I had a liter of water in 90 seconds that I drank in two swallows.

That turned the day around in a flash. Everything seemed brighter, the colors came back, my mood lifted and this kind of unspectacular piece of ground became a simply beautiful spot. Together we refilled our water bladders and we set out our mats and took a much needed break.   We ate our lunch, then talked and relaxed and just had a great time, relieved that we once again had everything we needed to push on safely. Giddy over a few liters of water on a hot day, how often does that happen?

That muddy spot we passed? If we had traced it back from the trail there was water there to be had ... I never stopped to really look and let an opportunity pass.  I know how to find water, I was trying too hard to press on and did not take the appropriate time to really look, and to really see.  Get-there-itis is what pilots call it.

A few days later I had a similar issue when my full water bladder leaked out on break.  My only guess is that when I set down the pack it compressed the bite valve and the thirsty ground absorbed the slow leak leaving me no indication anything was wrong until about a mile down the trail when I tried to take a drink and came up empty. Impossible, I had not touched that water at all, having been drinking Gatorade from my Nalgene bottle up to that point.  With a hard climb to get back, once again we evaluated our resources and decided to head to the next watering hole.  Indications were it was muddy too, but I had the tools to squeeze water out of anything -- and the motivation to try.  Once again we were in baby bird mode with Laura sharing her water.  She had more water than the first time and we were in less critical of a situation but I still had to be careful.  I need about a liter an hour out there and I was not getting that.

Were we in true danger?  Probably not.  But in the wilderness "probably" is just not enough.  Things change in an instant and dehydration can hit hard and fast.  It would have been a miserable, hot, thirsty slog without her help.  A few miles later we caught up to the group and Andy had filtered a liter of water out of the mud which he gave me and that carried my to camp where we had readily accessible water.   Once again a member of our team came through for me.  We finished a 14 mile day and soon learned that water was the least of our worries, but that is another blog for another day.

I also noticed something:  I was stopping to drink, but Laura was not.  She was discretely saving the water for me and getting thirsty herself to do it. Granted a healthy dose of common sense was part of that decision, by not allowing a problem to escalate into a crisis and getting stuck having to tend to a 260 pound guy passed out on the trail, I get that.  The difference was the sense that we were in this together and together we were going to figure it out and push through.  No complaints, no sarcastic comments, no lecture, just a solution.  That is what I love about her, that perfect, easy partnership and that feeling of not being two individuals thrown together but an effortless team facing down challenges as one.  No need to impress or justify or explain, just work together and make it happen.

Be it the trail journey or life's journey, we need people we can trust around us.  Her act of caring showed me that there are people out there who do not put themselves first or offer assistance, but only at a price.  What a wonderful gift I have been given to have her beside me on this journey.  If we all could surround ourselves with people who truly care and create relationships based on trust rather than mutual self interest,  how different our worlds would be.

That moment in time

"What am I doing here?"

I get the feeling that at some point we all are going to asking that question ... I've experienced the lows on a hike and gotten to where I was ready to toss my pack in the ravine and walk the roads back to the car to never backpack again.  But something always pulls you through to where you keep going and sometime later you have some kind of wonderful moment that makes it all worthwhile.

I still remember stopping by a pond at a county park around lunchtime.  I was worn out and hungry, so I took advantage of a little dock to sit somewhere clean and eat my lunch.  As my mood improved I noticed it was a sweet idyllic spot.  Warm sun, singing birds, splashing frogs,  a light cool breeze, brilliant scenery ... I leaned back against a post and relaxed,  enjoying the heat of the sun contrasting with the coolness of the air.  I drifted away for a while.  I came away completely relaxed and energized and ready for whatever would come my way.  That is why I do this ... to find this trip's version of that spot and that moment when everything comes together in the kind of perfection that can only be found through complete immersion into your surroundings.  Coming across that spot when I did, and how I felt, truly created magic.

What is the course to reach perfection?  How do you find that moment in time where everything is just right, and you would not, could not, change a thing?  You believe that to seek your moment you need to be in motion because these moments are not looking for you.  You need to be in that place at that time.

If you are looking for moments you need to come prepared with the ability to recognize a moment when it presents itself and the ability to stop seeking long enough for that moment to unfold. Perfection is not a goal, it is something that just happens to you when you least expect it.  You turn a corner and there it is. Unexpected and unimaginable and very different from what you expected.


So now you have a quandary ... do you seek or do you quietly wait for it to arrive?  The answer for me is "yes".  Seeking is not an act of frantic discovery, blindly rushing from spot to spot peering into each door and throwing open every cabinet.  Think if it instead as a state of mind, where you can look at what is  already there and actually see it.  Really, truly see what is actually in front of you.  Slowing down the incredible pace of your mind long enough to absorb the details.  Then allowing yourself to believe in the unexpected and waiting long enough for it to happen.  And happen it will -- in my experience a life-changing moment doesn't happen because I was looking for it.  It happened because I was able to perceive it and I allowed myself to be carried away by the unexpected.

The hike itself will offer up many moments.  It's the act of hiking that will eventually lead to perfection.  The slow stripping away of the layers of perceptual clutter that blind us to our surroundings.  The repetitive walking and the much reduced burdens on your mind push you closer to a Zen state than you can ever hope to achieve in our daily lives with our cell phone, TVs, music, people, worries and concerns and all of the other clutter that you must strip away to aid you in your quest for that perfect moment.

Just as a monkey swinging through the trees grabs one branch and lets it go only to seize another, so too, that which is called thought, mind or consciousness arises and disappears continually both day and night.- attributed to The Buddha

I recall an exercise where you are supposed to look at something, anything, at some point in your day.  But not just glance and turn away and let it fade from your memory in a minute.  This time actually look at it and see it and remember it.  Study the shape, the color, the heft, the smell.  Commit to memory the location, the time, the weather, the light and the way the object interacts with this environment.  Make this the most important thing you will remember all day.  Take the time to do it right and notice everything.  Mull it over after you leave.  Think about it at lunch.  Recall the object fondly at dinner and go to bed remembering it before you drop off to sleep and dream about it.  This is an exercise in the art of perception.  It is also an exercise in taming your kapicitta or your "monkey mind".


So perhaps perfection is not a journey but a state of mind.  It is the end result of slowing down and noticing.  You put yourself on a trail and you strip away everything except food, water, shelter and the next step you are taking. If you are lucky you will go turn that corner and step into that glade and experience that moment of perfection.

I am going to take this journey not to seek but to shut down.  The real measure will be not whether I find perfection on the trail, but if I can Reboot my brain, quiet the kapicitta, and return to civilization with my perception intact and my mind clear and ready to see the perfection that is all around us. 

My Mind to Me a Kingdom Is

by Sir Edward Dyer

My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such present joys therein I find,
That it excels all other bliss
That earth affords or grows by kind:
Though much I want that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.


No princely pomp, no wealthy store,
No force to win the victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to feed a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall;
For why? my mind doth serve for all.


I see how plenty surfeits oft,
And hasty climbers soon do fall;
I see that those which are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all:
They get with toil, they keep with fear:
Such cares my mind could never bear.


Content I live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice;
I press to bear no haughty sway;
Look, what I lack my mind supplies.
Lo, thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.


Some have too much, yet still do crave;
I little have, and seek no more.
They are but poor, though much they have,
And I am rich with little store;
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lack, I leave; they pine, I live.


I laugh not at another’s loss,
I grudge not at another’s gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss;
My state at one doth still remain:
I fear no foe, I fawn no friend;
I loathe not life, nor dread my end.


Some weigh their pleasure by their lust,
Their wisdom by their rage of will;
Their treasure is their only trust,
A cloakèd craft their store of skill;
But all the pleasure that I find
Is to maintain a quiet mind.


My wealth is health and perfect ease,
My conscience clear my chief defence;
I neither seek by bribes to please,
Nor by deceit to breed offence:
Thus do I live; thus will I die;
Would all did so as well as I!

Deciding, It's A Mental Thing

This whole thing is becoming a mental exercise.  For years I have been reading about the Appalachian Trail and it began to take on a a mythic feel.  It was always something that someone else did, but was out of reach for the average person.  Granted most of these accounts are thru-hikes, where some desperate soul walks the 2000 plus miles in one long journey.  That remains out of reach for me,  I have serious doubts that I could maintain the mental stamina required to pull that off.  No matter the length, tackling any portion of the AT always seemed to be the domain of some other type of person.

Which is utter nonsense; every hiker I have met is an individual and to typecast any of them is a gross disservice.  I have no doubt I will run into everybody from elderly couples, to young college kids, to middle-aged businessmen, and everything in between.  There is no "type", but there is a common thread.  At some point each person made the decision to do it.

I can assume that the vast majority of people never even ask the question.  Of the remaining percentage, only a small percentage of them take that first step.  In that decision comes questions about fitness, mobility, means, availability, and other factors that come into play.  I am lucky in that I have the baseline fitness, financial means and availability to pull this off without having to make massive accommodations.  The biggest effort was making the commitment and that meant getting past the fear.  Yes, fear.  That coming from a person who spent 20 years as a firefighter, rides motorcycles, flies small planes and solo hikes.  So it was, and remains, more of a mental challenge than a physical one.   That no doubt will reverse when I get to my first day long uphill hike and my body runs out of steam -- but the experts would say that is mental too.  If I don't take on each day knowing I can do it, I am setting myself up to NOT be able to do it.  Self-fulfilling prophecy, or whatever you want to call it.

I have found the best way to conquer fear is to decide to tackle it head on.  At some point you just shrug and say "OK".  Bear in mind this is not bowel-quivering, adrenaline rush fear, no, this is more the nagging voice of self-doubt that accompanies this kind of adventure.  Can I walk for 14 miles on day 5?  Can I carry 10 pounds of food?  Will I be able to manage the heat or the cold?  Will I take a tumble and hurt myself?  Honestly I could go on and on with those nagging self doubts, but inevitably the answer is "yes".  I have years of camping and backpacking experience, top notch almost ultralight equipment, a great team of people I trust, and the gift of a body that has the capability to absorb a lot of punishment before it fights back.

The other way to conquer self-doubt is to prepare.  I have hiked longer and harder than ever before this past few months. Given three month's notice, I launched myself into this thing with great vigor and have noticed extreme benefits.  Hills that used to leave me gasping for air now barely raise my heart rate.  To date I have lost 37 pounds.  I feel confident yet not over-confident and though I am smart enough to listen to my inner voice of self-doubt, I am also prepped with a counter-argument and a plan.

This past weekend Laura and I tackled two different trails for a total of about 11 miles.  Squeezed in between other activities and the inevitable housework that accompanies the weekend, we did these miles in about 4 to 4.5 hours.  What made this significant was heat ... like much of the country, we were experiencing mid-90 degree days.  Despite that, we set a good pace and rolled through these hikes with no problem.  That gives me a good indication we are close to being ready to go.  I doubt we'll experience much hotter ... at least I hope not.  But at least now I can remind my inner voice of self-doubt that I already tackled two different high heat and humidity hikes and was not much the worse for wear. 

I promote this AT trip as a "life-changing event".  I have caught some heat for that, with suggestions that I wait and see what this trip means to me after it is over.  A few problems with that ... as a writer I need to keep my eye on the ball for the duration and that means capturing these events and thoughts as they occur.  That way if I come off the mountain a changed man I will have my notes in place already.  The really important thing, though, is that the actual trip is just a part of the journey.  The physical results I have already achieved are already life-changing.  Other things are changing, too. 

When you Reboot because Office stops working, well, everything else gets a fresh start too.  You can't truly Reboot without starting everything fresh.  You may not load the same programs ... you have the option to Select Adventure.  This blog is about a hiking trip, but Reboot, Select Adventure is about much more than a single trip.  It's about creating life-changing adventures and having the courage to look life in the eye and deciding to tackle it straight on. 

Notice the word choice:  Deciding.  It's a mental thing ... be it work, play, life, or love, everything starts with a decision.  An adventure like this where you push your boundaries and accomplish things that are way outside the norm gives you a great place to look at everything with a fresh perspective.  When I am done with this trip I will be one of those people who took on the AT, if only a portion.  I will have hiked a lot of miles, missed a lot of showers, slept in cars and tents and shelters, and ground my way on foot to a goal.  That is when the hard work begins ... taking the best of the old and combining it with the new and making sure that when this is done I didn't just Reboot but I also decide to hit Select Adventure every day.

Wildcat vs Hikers: The Tiebreaker

The nine hikers that started out on a Friday night had endured cold, wet, bad trails, fatigue, heat exhaustion and a mid-hike change in personnel.  That gave the Wildcat trail a 2 point advantage.

Six hikers went on to challenge the second half of the trail and enjoyed beautiful vistas, powerful scenery, relaxing breaks in soft pine forests, and a chance to bond together as a team to finish strong.  That evened out the score at 2-2.

Perhaps we could tie ... but there was one more part of this adventure that I have not yet mentioned.  Two hikers bid adieu and headed for home, leaving 4.  One was from Columbus and three were from Dayton.  Free will was lacking, perhaps by the fact that me, Barb and Laura were all in one car.  But I think we all were in agreement as we headed north on Rt 13 towards Columbus that we needed to celebrate in style and to be completely honest, I think we were all hungry.

I don't remember who suggested it first, but we ended up in German Village in Columbus at Schmidt's Sausage Haus und Restaurant -- an authentic German eatery tucked away downtown.  Rick and I attacked the buffet and beyond that I don't remember much.  Steaming plates of sausages, potatoes, sauerkraut, and other delicacies pretty much clouded my senses.  After two days of dehydrated food, and, for me at least, stolen food, it does not take much hiking background for anyone to imagine that a restaurant of any kind is a sensory overload and something akin to an otherworldly experience.

I actually did not stuff down as much as I could have, but every bite was delicious and the celebratory tone added to the fun.  Think about it ... we went out into the woods with nothing more than we could carry and not only lived through it, but took on the challenges as they came our way and fought back.  Sure we have good gear and lots of experience, so perhaps I am being melodramatic, but any time you can shake off the protection of all of our modern conveniences and pretty much effortlessly continue to live in relative comfort with just what you can carry in your pack, along with hiking 15 miles, I believe you have earned a celebration.

To be able to walk out of the woods and within an hour be dining on authentic German cuisine shows me that we have style.   No rush to get home to shower.  No aches or pains.  No worries about our hair or the dirt on our clothes ... just 4 friends having fun that by the way, just spent the last 48 hours in the woods.  That is pretty good karma.

Next month I will be out for 10 days.  I assume within that span we may go 3 or 4 days at a stretch living out of our packs.  I can only imagine how we will celebrate every victory, every bit of trail magic, and our eventual return to civilization.  That is part of the hiking experience, the contrast to our daily lives.

So I think we earned at least one point. That puts the final score at Wildcat 4, Hikers 5.

We won!

Wildcat 2, Hikers 2: The Adventures Continues

Distractions and unexpected events have pulled me away from the Wildcat Hollow weekend.  When I last posted we had suffered through cold, wet, heat, sickness, and getting lost.  The park had pulled all the stops and was determined to beat us ... but persistent hikers we are, the score was evened up by Sunday.

Six remaining hikers pulled stakes and departed from the overnight campsite on a chilly and damp Sunday morning.  Three of the hikers had decided to bug out early and take the roads back to the cars.  Fine by me, I am good with "Hike Your Own Hike".

As the morning progressed so did the sun, and the temperature.  Soon we were hiking through the next campsite (which I now know is much superior to the one I picked and is now my new official midpoint) and onward through some of the most picturesque parts of this park.  Towering pines, steep valleys, wildflowers, and some challenging trails.  We stopped for breaks in the pine trees, people and packs  scattered about on the pine duff quietly talking and enjoying the breeze and the company as we relaxed, took it easy, and thoroughly enjoyed a great spring day.

We ate lunch perched on a log like birds on a wire.  I had accidentally left one meal in the car and was planning on devouring my emergency rations for lunch: a Clif Bar and some leftover GORP.   I was going to talk about how we shared food but, truth be told, that consisted mostly of my eating a goodly portion of Laura's food.  I don't feel guilty, after all I was really just trying to lighten her pack.  The tuna was delicious! 

As we moved along the trail the temperature soared to 82, but the breeze was dry and the sun was out and the hike was fantastic.  The actual Wildcat Hollow was wonderful, the trail winds down and around this sweeping valley lined with dozens of downed trees.  A true testimonial to the power of nature, this area has been ravaged by storms and everywhere we went there were signs of destruction.  But unlike man-made vandalism, this was beautiful and sad at the same time.  The trail had to bob and weave around countless deadfalls and fallen tree trunks too big to climb.  But the trail found its way and the trees will grow back and the park will remain beautiful year after year as it changes and restores itself. 

We pushed past the hollow and entered some less attractive lands to finish up the last few miles.  A few steep climbs, another ravine or two, and suddenly we are back at the cars.  We made it!  Two nights, two days, 15 or so miles, everyone safe and sound and ready to do it again. It took us from 10 am to about 4:30 pm (give or take, I was not really keeping track) to go 8 miles.  Tells you something about the breaks we took ... and that was the point.  Easy pace, but a real outdoor adventure. 

This day earned the hikers two points.  We slept in the cold, we hiked in the rain, we hunkered down under a tarp, we saw a temperature range of just about 50 degrees from coldest to warmest.   We climbed hills and squished along miles of muddy trails, but we we rewarded with great views, big fun, and a great time with some wonderful friends, old and new.  I think we earned these points ... but the true reward was a perfect hike on a perfect day.  Can't ask for much more.

As to the score, we are tied with the park now. Wildcat 2, Hikers 2.  Come back and visit Reboot, Select Adventure for the tie-breaking event that either hands success to the park or to the hikers.  It could go either way ... who will win?  

Crash

I guess every day can't be a success.  Saturday was a little worse than most, but considering my propensity towards having good days I really can't complain.

Flexeril is a new word in my vocabulary ... at least spelled like that.  As an EMT I am somewhat familiar with a broad range of pharmaceuticals (along with a surprising list of recreational drugs that have also taken root in the suburban districts where I ran as a medic).  I wonder how often I scribed Flexoral on a Patient Care Report.  Whatever the proper spelling, I am becoming quite familiar with this medication and though I appreciate the pain relief I am not so keen on the side effects.  No doubt I will review this post some day and discover that it is unintelligible.  So be it, I have a story to tell and there are no guarantees of coherence here.

It started Saturday morning with a fairly lofty goal -- hike 12 miles with full pack in a local park.  To that end four people showed up to this posted Meetup and shortly after 9 am we headed out.  Despite days of heavy rain, this day was shaping up to be quite nice.  The clouds were lifting, temperature was nice, and though a bit humid, it was actually a good day for hiking.  Even the trails were in great shape.  I remember thinking how nice it was to not be slipping and sliding around like I was a few weeks ago in Wildcat Hollow. 

Descending a steep but manageable downhill, suddenly my feet shot out from under me and I fell backwards landing on my rear and backpack.  I sat there a second surprised but worried more about my bruised ego.  As I evaluated myself for injury, I noted that I had come down hard on the backpack and could feel it was still holding me up.  Still no pain, so I started to move.  That was when the pain started ... every move shot through my lower back like flames.  Not completely unbearable, but I rated these pains 8 out of 10 later on that day.  I slowly lifted myself up and began to figure out what I had done and more importantly, what I could continue to do.

Kenny and Kelly caught up and to be quite honest I don't recall the entire conversation.  They offered me Ibuprofen, which I temporarily declined so I could observe my symptoms without masking them.  The pain was bad enough that I thought I had possibly cracked or torn something in my lower back.  Slowly I shuffled off, testing my body and trying to determine what I should do next.  We were only three miles in, and had 9 to go ... and 9 is my longest hike this season,  and that was without an injury and it was difficult. 

We stopped where the trail comes out on a road.  The park maintains a rental shelter/cabin and there are benches and a porch.  I pulled off my pack and began sipping on a Gatorade.  The other hikers offered to redistribute some of my gear, and I also began eying places to stash gear so I could drive back to the shelter and collect my goods without putting additional burdens on the team. Finally after I started feeling even worse I decided to pull the plug on this hike and asked the team to help me evacuate back to my car.

The group made sure I was comfortable, and that I had food and water.  I had a full pack so I had dry clothing, my shell, and plenty of nutrition and hydration.  They hiked on to the next landmark which is the Caesars Creek visitor center.  While they were gone I ate lunch and tried to stay comfortable.  Not moving much was (and still is) a good option.

Some time later I was rewarded with Kelly arriving in Kenn's truck.  Seems she was able to secure a ride from the visitors center to where our cars were parked.  Soon after I was safely in my own car heading towards home.

En route the pain continued to escalate so I diverted to a hospital for evaluation.  The  docs gave me a clean bill of health and wrote me my prescriptions.  Then I headed home for a weekend of R&R.

No real drama here ... and as am emergency responder I can attest that this is how most rescues and medical evacs are.  Go find a car and send everybody home. But for me it was a unique experience to be the patient.  Made me glad to have a team I could trust!

The team deserves recognition --  when I needed help the only question asked was "How?"  No complaints or encouragement to get the hike back on track.  Just quiet efficiency to figure out the best way to get me to safety.  Kenny kind of ran the show, Kelly had the charm to secure a ride, Judy offered up advice and my first round of Vitamin I, and John was invaluable for logistics.   From injury to car was about 2 1/2 hours.  Not bad for what amounts to a wilderness rescue, and a lot of that was me hiking out to the road.

One of the nurses suggested I stop hiking.  She thinks this kind of activity can be dangerous.  And it can be.  All you can do is mitigate the danger with proper training, good tools and supplies, and by using your brain.  This is a park in a populated area with easy access to 911.  I made an urban decision because I could -- stop hiking and get checked out.  I could have to make a very different decision on the AT.  But I will have more gear, and all of the essentials. Along with a different mindset. 

Looking at it now there is really only one mistake I can make regarding hiking and that would be to stop.

You do enough activities outdoors and sooner or later you are going to get hurt.  That is inevitable.  The key is to know how you are going to react and what you are going to do when the bad thing happens.  Stopping hiking could prevent injuries, but it is dooming me to a life of inactivity that could kill me quicker with obesity, heart attacks and boredom.

I'll get better in a week or two and once again I will train for the AT and head out to my AT trip a little more careful and lot wiser.  Once you Select Adventure for your life you need to ride it out!



ps I did not bring a knife which would have been critical for a real injury.  Even a backyard park can take hours to get help.  I found the knife in the kitchen today and made sure it got back in with my gear.  It was dirty from cutting food and I had washed it and put it on the counter.  Perhaps my trusty knife is normally used to carve cheese or trim loose threads, but Saturday it could have saved my life.  I'll remember that lesson well ... you never head out planning on getting injured so it's easy to cut corners on a local hike.  Even in a park like this one nature can lash out and I pledge to always be ready!

Solving a quandary, Reboot Style

Have you ever been faced with a quandary?  A perplexing set of circumstances that need to be resolved with no solution forthcoming?  It can drive you mad, rattling around inside your head as you pursue one angle, then another, until logical thought processes become so jumbled up you have nothing left but a tangle. At times like this you have to abandon your logical self and let greater forces have a go at it.

What greater force to clear your jumbled mind than nature herself?

I was not far from a park that has a spot that I have used regularly over the years to think, mull, solve problems or just be inspired.  I found my thinking bench, sat back, and just watched the trees for a while. This bench overlooks a beautiful hollow with a nice creek at the bottom and an endless variety of trees and flowers and birds.  At first you just have green trees.  Then your mind relaxes and other things start to pop up you did not notice before.  A slight movement, or an interesting sound.  You feel the breeze, and occasionally a colorful tree or splotch of wildflowers you have not noticed suddenly comes into focus. You wait for the answer.

I sat there quietly letting my mind drift.  The late afternoon sun brightened as the clouds slowly dissipated, and the forest took on a sharp clarity from the low angle sun.

"We will always be there."  A message from the trees, almost as if a voice had spoken it.  In my mind I rolled this around.  What does this mean?

"No matter what happens, we will always be there.  When you come back in 10 years, no matter what decisions you have made and whatever consequences you have lived, you can come back to this spot and enjoy this kind of moment.  Nothing can take that away from you."

Talkative trees.  But they were not the only thing passing a message and this time the message was real and you would have heard it too, if you were sitting beside me on the bench.  You would have heard laughing.  Gentle, musical laughing.  Like kids in a playground having fun.  It was the sound of the stream below, echoing up between the valley walls reminding me to laugh. 

I leaned back and drifted away for a while... until a loud noise across the way broke my reverie and I snapped to, senses alert.  The trees were trees, the creek sounded like water, and the path to my left became something to analyze step by step as I stood up to return to walking.  The spell was broken,  though I was relaxed and calm.

I walked along wondering what these messages meant and how in the world these obscure references could aid me in my real-life decision making.  I had a place to go to center myself and a suggestion to laugh.  Not much practical use.

 I guess the forest noticed that I was not getting it.

I turned a corner and heard crashing noises in the bushes.  I peered into a clearing to see two squirrels playing chase.  Around and up and down, leaping across the grass;  playing like only animals can play on a warm, sunny, Sunday evening.  About 20 yards down the path I hear more crashing and see more squirrels bounding about.  Again they were playing, just having fun running about and crashing through the bushes.  I passed this ruckus and headed down a hill.  I hike a lot and rarely see animals.  Two encounters like this was exceptional! At the bottom of the hill I came across two more squirrels just leaping and bounding and chasing one another.  Fairly convinced these were not all the same squirrels, I was thrilled to see so much happiness.  The sun had come out and the walking was easy, and as I headed away from the squirrel-zone I had one more word pop into my head:  Play.

Now I have something to work with.  Perhaps.  The things you need will always be there.  Laugh.  And Play.  As a writer I played with the word order to arrange some kind of coherent thought.  The talkative trees were a bit harder to pin down but I got the gist of it.

Remember to laugh, take time to play, and whatever happens you can still come back to that beautiful spot and reset.  Or reboot.  Because nothing can keep you away.

Did all of this help me with my quandary?  Not one bit.  No voice boomed down from a cloud with step by step instructions.  No magical beings appeared from a mist and offered up sage advice.  I guess I am on my own to come up with my own practical solutions.  But I can be thankful:  I have an approach ... Play.  I have a stress reliever ... Laugh.  I have a solid place to land when life gets into a turmoil, with my talkative trees.

About now the curious person would be wondering about the nature of this quandary and the reason why I was in need of a special place to think.  Rest assured that the choices I have are about joy and defining who I am and what makes me happy.  Earlier that day I had spent time looking for words.  Turns out I was also looking for a squirrel ... who found me to teach me to play.  Now I recognize the irony ... what I am looking for is also looking for me.  Stop seeking and start seeing ... laugh and play, and whatever the final outcome I will end up where I want to be.

Wildcat 2, Hikers 0

Our adventure at Wildcat Hollow was not without mishap, note the score in the title racking up in favor of the park vs the hikers.  Seems the first part of the trip was the most exciting.  But first some set up ...

With two other hikers ensconced in my Forester, we set out east around 6:30 pm from Dayton to Columbus to add Rick to the caravan at the I70 to Rt 13 freeway exit that leads to the park.  This was supposed to be a three hour drive, at least according to Google.

Now I want to say that I ran this Google map and posted it on the Meetup site with the warning "Results May Vary".  I did not want somebody to come straggling into camp on Friday night all pissed off about my directions.  In the Meetup world the event organizer offers up suggestions but the rule is pretty much you are on your own.  I even suggested printing directions, knowing that Internet and even GPS can be spotty at best, non-existent the rest of the time.  I dutifully printed the maps and directions and we launched.

I won't go into detail since you pretty much already know where this is going. At some point the roads no longer bore any resemblance to the maps, and within seconds we were hopelessly lost.  Did I mention we had added a car to the group? Rick from Columbus fell in behind when we got off the freeway on to Route 13.

Don't even get me started on 13.  I had to pick Friday the 13th to start this trip. I was not superstitious about this date until now. I am officially a believer.  And  Route 13 comes into play here shortly ...

We are now cruising the east side of the park hopelessly looking for some right turn that ostensibly would take us right into the campsite.  In theory, or whatever.  Trust me there is no right turn.  What we had was some awesome roads, though.  Steep climbs that plunged the car into darkness after you bound over the crest and get a moment of "air time".  Other steep climbs that make you pray there is actually a road over the top, and occasionally -- there wasn't.  You crest and the road is twisting off one way or the other.  Brakes, turn, power the corner, fight the understeer and off to the next one.  Great fun, at least for the driver.

My navigator, unbeknownst to me, has a tendency towards carsickness.  In this situation, actually just about anybody would have a tendency for motion related disorders.  This was a serious stretch of road, at least by Ohio standards.  I come from a hillier part of the world where this kind of driving is the norm.

I hear a small voice.  "I don't feel very good."  We go into triage mode and determine that she needs to not be riding in a car at the next available opportunity.  Problem is we are not near camp, we are actually not near anything.  We pull over to inspect a turn and Rick and I confer.  He also loans me batteries for my dead GPS which comes to life and gives me at least some spatial awareness.

I had a plan.  Head south.  OK, I had a semblance of a plan.  That gave us options such as better roads, Internet access, places to stop, and a way to get back to Route 13.  The we could use some other directions from the Forest Service that guide you in from the south.  A suggestion was made to retrace our steps but it did not seem like a great idea to drag Laura through that section of road a second time.  So we head to the south end of the park, cut over to near Athens, download the directions once we got into some 3G, and within about half an hour we had arrived at the entrance to our campsite.

We made one additional stop in a little village so I could share my plan with Rick who was still gamely following me.  Right about then a pickup pulls up with a couple of good old boys, who actually rather politely asked if we were OK.  We assured them we were, and upon questioning they learned we were looking to camp in the forest. They gave me the look, and told me that I had been driving alongside the park for about 10 miles.  They never called me a dumb-ass, but the sentiment was there.  The fact there was not a road leading into the park did not dissuade them from wanting to offer up advice about going back the way we came, but my plan to seek Route 13 via Athens was pretty solid and that these guys were swigging Budweisers when they pulled up helped Rick and I to decide we were probably better off figuring this one out ourselves.  I appreciate their kindness though and I believe they actually wanted to help.

So we pull away with Laura hunkered down in the back seat making cat-like mewling noises every time I turned a corner.  Barb (my new navigator) and I zeroed in on the new route with military precision and aided by real directions got us to camp.  We had lost about an hour, which no doubt felt like a day and a half to our carsick hiker, but we were safe and sound and there!

By now you have already established that if I had stayed on Rt 13 from the get-go (remember Rt 13 is the exit off the freeway) we would have just cruised right into our site. I get that now.  Of course I got the questions about how I could get lost when I had been here before.  Once,  five years ago, in the daylight, with no Google maps. 

I still feel bad for poor Laura ... she is a special person to me and I felt absolutely horrible making her sick in the first place and then continuing to add to her misery as we went..  But the options were limited and we had to keep moving and she may not have noticed but I slowed things down a lot and stuck to good roads and tried to keep the motion down (the Forester is pretty tight but it is still an SUV).  Thankfully she recovered well and to her credit she rode back home with me.   I appreciate that vote of confidence, even though really what choice did she have?

So we arrived.  The park had scored a victory.  Combined with the rain on Saturday we were really building a deficit in this game.  The question is, who won?  Wildcat or Hikers?  We had fought hard and we were not ready to give up yet!  Stay tuned for second half action coming soon to Reboot, Select Adventure. 

New Gear!

I would like to start by thanking the JetBoil folks for creating an entire new method of printing.  I would estimate that each character in the instruction manual uses 1 molecule of ink.  Some day I will visit Rochester Institute of Technology when I head north to see my dad, and pop this pamphlet under their electron microscope so I can actually read it.  Until then I am just experimenting and hoping I don't blow something up.  How much damage can a 4 oz fuel container really do?



I got a JetBoil Sol and used it this weekend when I overnighted in Wayne National Forest.  So far I have learned that it boils water in 2 minutes in 40 degree temps and it weighs 13 oz or something like that.  If it passes muster it may come with me to the AT.  If not it will still be awesome for the slightly more luxurious weekenders that constitute the bulk of my hiking.

I also picked up a shell.  For around 100 bucks it supposedly repels rain, keeps you warm, and allows moisture to escape.  It's not a 300 dollar high tech device that will last for 10 years of continuous use, but in my world I can buy a new one every 5 years and still come out ahead considering I will buy my 4th with my first social security check.  It's a Patagonia TorrentShell and like the stove I expect it will do what it does without complaint and fail to awe me with features.

Hiking gear is like that.  The marketing is extreme and you can get to a point where you expect a pair of boots to download killer apps or a flashlight to double as a WiFi hotspot.  But boots are still boots and flashlights just light things up.  Reality meets hype pretty fast when you are gearing up for outdoor adventures.  When you are 20 miles from anything you want simple, easy and reliable.

I've already folded the jacket into it's own pocket;  that I believe is the most outstanding trick.  It will probably be rolled up like that for 5 years because it never rains when I hike.  Really!   By that time it will probably have fused together into a gelatinous blob and I will pry it apart to look at the tag and order number 2.

Now I have to fight off the comments.  I will no doubt find out this same jacket was on sale for 10 bucks at an REI online only, one day sale.   I will hear about the guy who wore one of these and spontaneously combusted.  I will be taught that this jacket is no good for mountains but OK for midwestern flatlands.  And I will be taught the next day that this jacket is totally wrong for midwest hikes but may be OK if I take it on a mountain.

Only time will tell if I chose wisely.  

UPDATE:  the stove cooked water and the jacket repelled water on the trail.  Woot. 

Wildcat 1, Hikers 0

Step, step, slide.  Step, step, climb.  Slowly we push on towards camp.  The rain is falling lightly now, perhaps I can remove the shell.  The skies look brighter, maybe this will end.  Then again does it really matter?  We're miles in to a National Forest - it's not like we can leave.

After a while we all adapted to the occasional slide.  You put your foot down and it just jets out from under you for 6 to 8 inches.  You stab your poles and dance a little jig and recover, until after a while these little moments are part of your movement.  You even miss the sliding when you hit dry ground, momentarily surprised that you are stable.

The rain started when we left the first camp on Saturday morning and continued off and on for the remainder of the day and well into the night.  It really did not dampen our spirits, though.  We hiked and talked and made quite the day of it, though we all were glad to reach our next camp and perform our own rituals to dry off and hunker down.

A few people disappeared into tents, not to be seen until the next morning.  Quite a feat I must say, given that we arrived in camp around 2:30 pm.  Not much lingering over the sights and few photo ops. Just a day to push on and so we did, getting to camp quite a bit sooner than I envisioned.  Now this is why I love camping in groups:  one couple had a tarp tent.  They just strung up that tarp, invited the remainder of us to join them and we were snug tucked away out of the rain where we all talked, stretched, cooked and shared a fun time together.

We all fought off hypothermia at some point.  A few folks squirreled away into tents to enjoy both some sleeping bag warmth and the sheer pleasure of stretching out flat for a spell.  Others started in with hot drinks or even full meals.  My moment came when I peeled off the wet t-shirt and replaced it with a dry fleece and my shell.  The shivering stopped and I felt like a new man!  Getting wet on a chilly day can be overwhelming and the last thing you want in this situation is to get chilled beyond easy recovery.  I had a dry base layer tucked away for last resort, preferably to have for sleeping.  Never needed it ... my fleece did the trick.

What situation?  We were hiking the 15 miles loop in Wildcat Hollow, part of Wayne National Forest in Southeast Ohio.  9 people set out Friday night to camp overnight at the trailhead with a decent Saturday start in mind.  Hike about half, camp Saturday night in the woods, and hike out Sunday.  I am pleased to report that 9 people left the trail on Sunday.  At least I hope so, we did get a faction of 3 come Sunday morning that decided to hike out fast using some of the roads.  They missed the best part of the hike, but I was glad for the time we had together and thoroughly enjoyed their company on Saturday. 

We huddled, we dripped, we complained a little ... but we survived, and I might add we did do in great style.  Turns out the rain was really not the big story of the weekend.  There are two other posts coming that pretty much epitomize the hiking experience.

9 miles and 21 pounds

Last Saturday a few of the AT folks got together a conditioning hike at local park.  Open to all, 5 normal people showed up too.  A smartly dressed gaggle of women with trim waist packs were waiting at the trailhead while the three of us arrived in a flurry of activity and a bit late (excuse: we were staging cars at the end point to shuttle us back to the start).

If you are not familiar with a conditioning hike, it's where you strap on your backpack loaded down with more weight than you plan on carrying and you hike.  So we arrive complete with full-size overloaded backpacks, technical hiking boots, the ever-present trekking poles and a complete complement of attitude.  Why the five women did not flee on our arrival remains a mystery.

Setting the record straight, I was not planning on a full pack.  My goal was to carry the exact amount of weight I have lost to date.  Since I weighed in that morning at 17 pounds under my full winter bloat, I opted to go for 20 pounds.  Including the pack, 3 liters of water, 24 ounces of Gatorade, a tent (it was handy) and a small stack of old phone books (even handier) I finally settled at 21 pounds. 

The phone books.  I should probably not have mentioned those, here or at the hike.  There were plenty of jokes: "Todd is prepared, if we need to order a pizza" or "If we need a fire we can burn Todd's phone books". Things like that.  But hey,  they were sitting right there next to the recyclables.  Instant weight!

Good news is we all completed the hike without incident and I think to a person we could have hiked more.  That evening and the day after I felt no pain or stiffness and all of the joints were happy.   However it did teach me a bit about how quick I can dehydrate, especially on a cool day when the sweat evaporates quick. 

The pack was fine on my back ..but that sucker was heavy to pick up.  Makes sense, a fully loaded pack is a struggle and this was not quite that bad.  But you grab this thing by the little handle and heft it around and 21 pounds is a noticeable burden.  Heavy enough that I double checked the weight of the pack when I got home.  Simple technique: weigh yourself with pack, then sans pack, then subtract.  I confirmed the previous measurement.  It was 21 and another interesting number was revealed - I was now 21 pounds lighter than my winter max.  Or 5 pounds lighter than when I started the hike that morning.

Running the numbers, that is about 10 cups of water.  Maybe I should have hit that three liters I packed a little harder.  I put it back on quick with a combination of water, Gatorade, and beer and by Monday I close to where I was.

By Wednesday I had stabilized back at the 21 pounds loss so the downward trend continues.  So some nifty take-aways:  21 pounds is one heck of a burden and I no longer am carrying at least that on a daily basis.  My goal to carry my exact weight loss in the backpack was achieved with startling success.  I can do 9 miles without falling over.  And most important, I swear that whatever junk I stuff in my pack will remain a secret.  There are some things you should not share, even with close friends.

The Lost Park

As part of my commitment to the local hiking club I decided to start a series of local hikes called "Parks You've Never Heard Of".  This requires that I actually find parks that a good percentage of the group has not been to.  A few other things I look for are a decent trail, natural surroundings, and a chance to clock off at least a couple of miles.  Given the opportunity I would rather not follow a paved trail through manicured grass around ball diamonds ... that is what my morning runs are like! 

A few weeks ago I went in search of an interesting park called the Cemex Reserve.  Part of a local mining operations agreement, it is an effort to reclaim some land that is an important part of the local wetland ecosystem.  Tucked away between freeways and housing developments, it is close to 160 acres so it is very apparent on a map.  There is even an address on the Web sit.

I headed out and followed Google maps on my Android and got to where I could see glimpse of what I assumed was my park.  I drove in circles, through neighborhoods, back and forth and never could locate the entrance.  I abandoned the effort is lieu of re-inspecting another park close by which became my first hike in the series, which I called "Fun with Fossils" at an abandoned quarry that had been reclaimed by city government and turned into a very unusual park that literally transports you back 450 million years and allows you to take home rocks with Silurian era Crinoid fossils embedded within. 

Last weekend I was participating in a 5 mile run ... as a course observer manning the finish line.  After the event a runner reported a lost key on a lanyard .  I decided to drive the course to see what I could see.  As I followed the signs and pavement chalk it took me up into some neighborhood and as a rounded a corner -- there was my park!  I knew it was in the area and had even given a passing thought to restarting my aborted search between this event and the fossil hike coming up later that day.  Honestly though, I had no idea that I was right there and my random key search would reveal something completely unexpected.

So it was a good day.  I had a chance to help some friends host their first ever race for MSA.  I found my missing park.  I led a fun hike for about 2 1/2 miles and we collected fossils and stood on top of ancient coral beds.  Overall for the week I put in around 10 miles ... not bad considering some emergencies that occupied a good chunk of the week.  I led two hikes, and I am one step closer to being at least marginally fit for the Appalachian Trail. 

Oh yes, I think I have proven that I have a penchant for history and unusual places.  Wait until you hear about the Argonne Forest! 

Hike Away Your Stress: Perils of Scheduling a Group Hike

Wednesday night I led a group hike at a local park.You know you need a reboot when something so simple becomes incredibly complex. 

I first scheduled this hike for Wednesday in my head, but decided to do it on Tuesday based on weather reports.  So last weekend I publish this thing on Meetup.com, and sure enough start getting attendees.  So far so good, until I find out that I had a work-related event on Tuesday evening that was a must-attend.  Of course it was not in my calendar ... and my dependence on technology these days will generate a handful of blogs later on.  So back to Wednesday.  A few people bailed, a few jumped over to the new night and a few complaints -- mostly teasing, I hope. 

Wednesday started with me driving a sick pet to the vet for emergency surgery.  Off to work.  I get notice to pick up the ferret at 5 .. hike is at 7.  Delays in the office push me to about 5:30.  That's when I notice that my fuel gauge is below empty ... to the point where I was hoping for downhills so I could coast to save gas.  As I beelined to the closest gas station, sick ferret sleeping in the cage, and my time clicking away ... a bad mix of adrenaline and frustration are building.  I find a gas station and roll in with 1/2 gallon in my tank. 

It felt like one of those nightmares where you are running in slow motion and getting nowhere!  Every bad driver in Dayton was clogging the roads. Every light was red.  40 mph roads were crawling at 20 for no discernible reason.  I finally make it home, settle the poor critter in and change for the hike.  6:30 ... my scheduled departure, comes and goes.  But I get on the road.  And make it to the hike on time!  As the leader that is kind of an imperative.

The lot is full.  Every single parking spot was taken ... someone was pulling out so I secure a spot but I still have about a dozen cars coming.  I have never been to this park where there was more than maybe two cars there. Even on a weekend.  A group of high-schoolers are having some sort of picnic.  There is a glimmer of hope -- they are carrying coolers and folding chairs.  One by one cars start pulling out as one by one my hikers start pulling in.  Incredibly every single hikers finds a spot -- and thank you to the group of 4 who arrived in one vehicle!

This led to an incredibly nice hike in a beautiful park.  Warm temps but a nice cooling breeze.  A fantastic sunset.  Fields of yellow spring flowers and smooth dry paths.  We do around 3.5 miles in just over an hour, in time to depart before the park closes.  Everybody is having fun and lots of locals have never found this park before tonight, so I feel a sense of pride that I have now given them a new place to hike whenever they want. 

Most important I set a pace.  Some folks would have pushed along faster, but for others it was just right or even a bit fast.  I notice that some of my hard work is paying off .. I am not hot, sweaty and winded like I would have been just a month ago.  That makes me feel good!  And everyone seems to be having a great time. 

So lessons learned?  Let's not get too wound up ... even the best plans can go awry.  Recap?  Ferret is OK, car is fueled, the hike kicked off right on time, and I got my miles in while sharing a great experience with friends.  Problems?  What problems?  Hiking as always is the ultimate way to de-stress.  Maybe not quite a reboot, but I definitely closed a few applications that night.