Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Solo Trip 2015: The Planning Stages

My husband and I are discussing what I might do for next year’s solo trip. I really want to do something high mileage. I want to see about doing a short time, but long distance trip. That is, one where I have to keep walking pretty much all day before collapsing to sleep and then starting all over again.

20 miles a day. Give or take.

Which seems absolutely wild to me at this point. I recently walked 20 miles wearing such a light pack that I might as well not have been wearing a pack at all, on what may as well have been flat terrain, and I was thrashed. I couldn’t do a step more.

And now I’m planning on doing that four days in a row while carrying, oh, at least 30 pounds of equipment, food and water. Probably more like 35. Although I could probably leave out the kindle this time, since I doubt I’ll have the energy to read after I hike 20 miles in a day.

We’re looking at the Idaho Centennial Trail, near the area we hiked this summer in the Sawtooths. It would be a thru-hike, rather than a loop or an out and back. And I wouldn’t be hiking it at all before the trip itself. It’s that part that I think, more even than the heavy mileage, that is about preparing myself for doing the Pacific Crest Trail.

There’s no practical way to preview hike the PCT. From the hiker journals that I’ve read, higher mileage can be achieved gradually while hiking the PCT, but I think that the mindset of being able to navigate places you haven’t been before is something that has to be grasped more quickly. The trail is all new to you (unless you’ve already hiked it, lucky).

I’ll post more as we continue to firm up plans. For now, contemplative frog:
I found this frog chilling in the lake at 8696 on my solo trip this year. And I do mean chilling, that's a snow fed lake. It's really cold. 

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Getting Up the Rope

Until I started doing Crossfit last year, the sum whole of my experience with rope climbing came from books and movies. In particular, Witch Week by Diana Wynne Jones comes to mind. In that book, a character believes she is finally climbing the rope as she closes her eyes and tries, but she is just sliding up and down the same length, much to the derisive amusement of her classmates.

There were no ropes in my gym classes, not in grade school or high school. The gym at my college might have had them, but I don’t think they did. And even if they did, I never used them, or contemplated their use. Rope climbing was not something that I could do.

When I did start Crossfit, I viewed the ropes hanging up in the back with trepidation. I was sure it would be yet another thing that I would need to do a “progression” for, rather than the full exercise. I do pull ups with the assistance of bands and step ups instead of box jumps. Light weights instead of Rx.

And when I first tried rope climbs, I couldn’t do them. I ended up doing the progression, which involved shorter ropes tossed over a pull up bar that I used to simulate climbing with my feet still on the ground. It wasn’t easy for me, especially since I had to do 5 progressions to equal 1 rope climb.

But then, a few weeks ago, I went to a Crossfit class where rope climb was to be worked on as a skill. And the coach worked with me and helped me discover that somehow, now, I can do it.

Where before, my arms and hands refused to hold on to the rope, now I could cling, as long as I had my feet locked in place properly. And I made it all the way to the top a couple times that first day. And again, the next time rope climbs were a skill.

But I had not yet faced the hardest test. Not until last week did I get to attempt the rope climb in a MetCon: 8 rounds - 1 legless rope climb, 10m handstand walk, 4 burpees

I can’t even do a single “step” of a handstand walk, so I had to do progressions for that (a combination of wall walks and kick up to handstands). And I can just barely climb a rope with my legs - legless was out of the question. And the progression ropes were set up as well, in case I couldn’t do the full climb.

The 1st round, I made the full rope climb. 2nd round, I tried, but couldn’t get more than two feet off the ground. I finished that round on the progression ropes. But then the 3rd round I made it back to the top of the real rope. For the 4th round, I tried again and failed again, so I did progression climbs to finish it. Then I decided to do progressions for the 5th, 6th and 7th, so that I could give it one more try on the 8th and final round, determined and somewhat rested.

I was getting close to the time limit of 20 minutes. I ran to the rope and forced my rubbed-numb hands to cling as I hitched myself up on bruised feet.

I finished the workout in 19 minutes and 41 seconds, chivied on by my fellow Crossfitters and the coach.

And I can climb a rope.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Magic Eye Photo

As I work on writing up my solo trip for my next book, I'm using the photos that I took to guide my recollections. The solo trip is not going to get a write up on this blog, but some of the photos are just too neat not to share.

I took this picture on a switchback on the way up to High Pass on the first day of my trip. Three people riding horses, and one pack horse, had passed me on the trail earlier, headed up to Browns Lake. I had a theory that the trail to Browns Lake would be visible from the switchbacks up to High Pass, but I had no way to prove it - until I saw the bright orange that one of the riders had on their saddle, barely visible in the distance.

Click the picture to view it larger. I'd also recommend stepping back from your screen while looking at it. There are two horses and riders visible, if you look just right.


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

Gotcha!

Last Friday, my husband and I finally found me a pair of hiking boots that fit my feet. Naturally, I had to start breaking them in as soon as possible. Since Saturday was a fine autumn day, Ambrose and I both headed up to Table Rock.

We walked together to the Greenbelt, and then he began to run. I kept to a walking pace in my new boots, using trekking poles to emulate hiking conditions. I also carried my fivefingers shoes in my backpack, just in case I had to bail on the boots.

Ambrose used to run at about the same pace that I walked fast, but he has improved, and so I watched him disappear ahead of me as I hiked along. The sun was shining brightly down and I had a big grin on my face, because these boots were working. My feet didn't feel like they'd been constricted into a little tube. I don't know why it seems that women's shoes, even women's hiking boots, taper at the toe box, but I'd found myself a pair that didn't. At last!

I stopped at the Warm Springs Golf Course Clubhouse to use the restroom before the long haul up to Table Rock. I didn't see Ambrose on the ridge above the golf course, so I figured that I wouldn't catch up to him. That didn't stop me from zooming up the dirt trail. I do so like hiking uphill.

I thought I could see him heading up the last steep ramp to Table Rock, but I couldn't be sure, because there were a lot of men wearing orange shirts. Okay, at least three that I could see.

I stepped onto the main trail just in front of a guy walking. I could hear him behind me for a few paces, but then he started running and passed me. He really only passed me by a little bit before he started walking again, and I stayed on him by keeping my pace steady. No matter how steep the trail became, I kept my pace hard and steady.

He stopped a short way up the final ramp, and I passed him a few moments before I caught up to Ambrose, who was also little-engine-that-could-ing it up the ramp. He might be slow, but he doesn't quit.

I made it to the top and sat down to rest. Pushing through without stopping had gotten me breathing hard, and I wanted to retie the boots before I headed back down. Once leather boots warm up, they tend to be a bit looser, so it's a good idea to retie after wearing them for a bit. Also, they had felt a bit loose on my feet on the way up, so I wanted to be sure that they'd be snug on the way down.

Ambrose made it to the top, but didn't stop and sit with me. He just turned right around and headed back. I only spent a moment pouting before heading back down after him. Even though he walked down the steep ramp, he had enough of a lead on me that he started running down the trail back to the golf course before I got off the ramp.

There was no way that I could catch up to him. He was ahead of me, and I couldn't walk fast enough to catch up.

So I took a gamble that the trail down to the Old Penitentiary would be shorter than the one we always took by the golf course. He was too far down to see that I hadn't followed him.

I hiked as fast as I could down the trail, which had its share of steep sections. The trekking poles were useful, but what really helped me maintain speed was the boots. The soles were nice and grippy, and there was no toe banging to speak of.

The trail ends at the old Idaho Penitentiary, and I wasn't quite sure where to go from there. The sidewalks were sporadic and the only signs pointed back the way I had come. I pulled out my phone to check where I was on the Map My Run app. With its help, I managed to figure out where I was, but I shouldn't have checked. All I needed to do was walk two blocks and then cross the street to the Greenbelt spur.

When I reached the Greenbelt again, I looked around for Ambrose. He was nowhere to be seen, but for all I knew, he was ahead of me. I had to walk fast.

I walked as fast as I could without breaking into a run, and when I made it back to the apartment, I found it empty.

Victory.

Sure, there was a blister developing on my right foot, but I had beaten him. Now, all I had to do was wait.

He took longer than I thought he would, although since I walked 6 tenths of a mile less than he did, I shouldn't have been that surprised. I was standing at the stove preparing to cook some breakfast when I heard the key in the lock. My hands were covered in fish, so I just kept working the bones off of it as he walked in and saw me.

I wish I'd had clean hands so I could have taken a picture. He was dumbfounded.

"How did you do? How did you do that?" he said.

"You know how you're always saying that age and treachery beat youth and skill?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Well, I've been hanging out with an old guy for awhile now, and let's just say some of the treachery has rubbed off on me."

Of course I told him.

Eventually...

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

20

Although I haven't finished writing up my experiences of this summer's 4 day, 3 night solo hike, that hasn't stopped me (and my husband) from looking towards next year's solo hike. Part of the planning would have to take into account just how far I could plan on hiking in a day. Ambrose and I are looking at my doing a section of the Idaho Centennial Trail. He's found a 60 mile section that he could drop me off on and pick me up from. If I wanted to go farther, the next pick up point would be at 80 miles - and I’d need to meet him at 60 to get a resupply of food.

Unless I did 20 mile days, in which case I could do 80 miles in 4 days and not need a resupply stop.

On Sunday, I decided to test myself by taking a 20 mile walk, just to see if I could do it. The last three Sundays, I've been doing a 20 mile bike ride and a 5 mile run, but this Sunday was rainy, and so I didn’t want to do a bike ride. I’m not entirely confident riding on wet pavement, but I can walk on it.

I prepared my gear and clothes on Saturday night. I knew it would be damp and possibly rain, so I set out clothing accordingly. Layers for my top half, heavy raincoat, and I decided to wear my old summer boots so as to avoid wear and tear on my running shoes. Since the boots weren't waterproof, I set out my waterproof socks. I packed energy bars and some energy gummy chews and had a hydration bladder full of electrolyte drink as well as salt pills. I had my phone so I could record the distance and pace on the Map My Run app, and the altimeter/barometer to appease Ambrose.

See, he decided that I needed to set a timer for an hour to remind myself to snack. Like I would forget to eat while walking for 6+ hours.

Okay, I totally would forget to eat. It was helpful.

I planned on walking at an average pace of 3 miles per hour, because I figured that would be something I could reasonably sustain with a heavy pack, after some practice. I could probably walk faster with a very light pack, but the point of the exercise wasn't speed - it was all about the distance.

I wanted to leave by 7 am on Sunday so I could get back home at a reasonable hour, but I ended up not waking up until 7, so I didn't leave until a little bit after 8. Not bad. The rain had stopped, but it was still very damp as I set out, and humid. I found myself getting overheated very quickly, and took off my hat and one of my shirt layers before I had gone a mile.

I passed by people walking their dogs, and a few runners (and a few runners with dogs), but no other walkers without dogs. I greeted most people with a good morning or at least a smile. I felt good to be trying myself, and, in that first hour, my body felt fine.

Sure, my legs weren't entirely happy with me, but I had no doubts about completing my goal in that first hour.

When I do a slow run, I generally go about 5 miles per hour, and I haven't run for more than an hour at a time for a while. When I backpack, I tend to take breaks regularly - feet up, pack off kind of breaks. On this walk, I was going slower than my run pace, but not taking regular breaks. By the time I finished my second hour of walking, I began to wonder what had possessed me to do this.

Right after mile 6, I was at the public restrooms near the Idaho Shakespeare Festival. I stopped to use them and to switch out my waterproof socks for regular socks, because I was overheating. I thought about the road ahead of me. The path drops down below the road and has a beautiful and stark view of the river. There is a path up to a restaurant that I have to pass, and then a long section with no egress points between the dam and Discovery Park. That would be the hard slow, both on the way out and the way back.

The miles seemed to slip by quickly to the dam, which I hit around mile 8. I almost felt like I wasn't moving walking along the highway. A concrete barrier on my left was all that separated me from traffic zooming by at 55 miles per hour. On my right a narrow, rocky bank held back the river. The only way out was through.

On my bike, this section flies by - heck, the whole 20 miles flies by. I can do the whole route in under 2 hours on the bike. I wasn't even halfway done at 2 hours on Sunday.

My plan had been to take  break at Sandy Point, but when I finally got there, I saw that most of the benches were still covered in rainwater. So I walked to the turn around and headed back to Discovery Park where I had seen picnic tables under shelters that were nice and dry. I promised myself a real break and managed to get my feet to take me there.

How I wanted to quit! I sat on top of a picnic table and put my feet out in front of me. I ate a 20 gram protein bar that had been sitting in my pack for several months. It was stale, but edible. The flavor was supposed to be cookies'n'cream, but it tasted more like vaguely chocolate cardboard crunch. I could have stayed there a long time, but instead I got up and went on.

I decided to figure out how long the section from Discovery Park to the dam actually was. Subjectively - it was at least 5 miles of excruciating pain. I took a salt pill to try and quell a pinching cramp in my left hamstring and thought that if that didn't work I would quit at the dam.

Objectively it was 1.5 miles.

It was at this point that I began to bargain with myself. Just make it to 13.1 - that's a half marathon. Just make it to 15 - you've never gone that far before. The 15 got me past the restaurant, though I was sorely tempted to go there, order a beer and get Ambrose to pick me up and bring cash. I could taste the beer, but the turn off was 14.5 miles. So I walked past it.

I went past 15 to get to the Shakespeare bathrooms again. I found myself letting Ambrose know that I was at 15.5 and would keep going. Keep going? Yes, just get to 16.

At 16, I was at the point of leaving the road again and walking where I couldn't easily be picked up. That helped me to commit to 17.

In a way, knowing that I could chat Ambrose at any time and get picked up made it all that much harder to keep going. My body was screaming at me to stop, to lay down and quit. I took more salt pills and kept going.

When I first used the Map My Run app, I discovered that my bike route was actually 21.5 miles, so I figured that my walk route would reach 20 miles before I got home. And I promised myself that once I reached 20, I would be done. Sit down on the pavement and stick a fork in me done.

I knew I would be close to 19 miles by the time I reached Baggley Park, and so I decided that rather than keep going from Baggley and possibly get to 20 on the Greenbelt where I couldn't be picked up, or somewhere along River Run where it would be harder for Ambrose to find me, I would circle Baggly until I got my 20.

It only took 2 and a half laps to do it. And I finished mere steps from the car, where Ambrose waited with a coconut water and a dose of painkillers. Despite thinking for at least 3 hours that I couldn't do it, I pushed through the mental and physical walls and finished. I know I can do 20 miles, and I know how much it hurts to do it.

I've learned I'm not ready to be backpacking 20 mile days.

Yet.