Backpacking Is My Sport

I like running. Especially now that I'm starting to get faster, I enjoy running. It helps keep my legs ready to go, and provides the main aerobic component of my exercise routine.

But running serves backpacking.

I like lifting weights. It's an activity that my husband and I do together, and it's fun to figure out new routines or tweak old ones. It's nice to go spend time in the hot tub afterwards.

But lifting weights serves backpacking.

I really like CrossFit. It's a challenging workout that introduces me to new things that I would otherwise have never thought to try, like box jumps, rope climbs and double-unders. It makes me push myself.

And it serves backpacking.

Running builds my aerobic capacity and helps train my legs; lifting weights helps me carry my pack; CrossFit helps with functional movement and mental toughness.

Each exercise I do in the off season is meant to make next year's backpacking season better. And so far, I have gotten better every year. Last week, I had a realization. Backpacking is my sport, and if I am going to get better at that sport, if I am going to succeed in my goal of consecutive 20 mile days next season, then I need to practice that sport.

On Christmas day, I went on an 11.14 mile hike in the foothills, with 1850 feet of gain. And on 12/28 I did 15.79 miles with 2400 feet of gain.

I only carried a light pack, but had the added complication of snowy weather to contend with. I know I still have a ways to go before stringing together 20 mile days with a loaded pack, but I'm getting an idea of exactly how far I have to go by doing this. I'm learning how to push myself in this sport. I'm learning how much my feet can hurt without stopping me.

This off-season, for the first time, I'm focused on practicing and perfecting my sport.

Holiday Cheer

Well, my husband and I stayed up late last night watching movies, and I was so very tempted not to run today, but my running partner from work and I made a date. And we kept it.

So I totally earned any and all holiday cheer splurges by going on a nearly 3 mile run today in weather colder than 40 degrees while it was raining.

Also, we saw a heron when we were done. Pretty cool.

And our average pace was 9:34 minute miles. I'm pretty happy about that pace considering I'm still feeling like I've got some sinus infection going on. . . 

Making the Cut

 Or not, as the case may be.

Here are a few photos that didn't make the cut for my latest book:

This is the back of the wilderness permit. Don't forget to respect the "quite" that the wilderness offers!

I have no idea how I managed to convince myself that the lens smear on this picture was because of the high humidity. 

I do so love the animal pictures, but not all of them turned out well enough to print. 

The highest zoom introduces a good deal of motion to the frame... 

I stopped trying for a better shot after this one, and scared the poor guy off as I walked toward him. 

I so wanted a good picture of this bird, but it wasn't to be. It spooked before I could get close enough. 

Weakness and Strength

The other day I went to Crossfit. I'm still going. I haven't quite kept up with twice a week, but I go on a regular kind of basis. And, in order to fit it into my schedule, I go to the 5:30am class. I can't think of the last time I went to one later in the day.

There was a fairly typical turnout of five athletes that morning, and the coach was one that I hadn't met before. He introduced himself when I arrived, and introduced himself to another woman who I knew, but he didn't.

The six of us were milling around near the board where the workouts are written as we waited for it to be time to start. And, I forget what precipitated the remark, but the woman said something about being weak. And I smiled in agreement, because I knew that both she and I lifted weights that are, to put it kindly, less than impressive.

I mean, I can't even squat my body weight. Which I feel like I should be able to do. Or at least that that would be a strong thing to do.

But the coach's reply to the claim of weakness was, "No one up at 5 in the morning is weak. Especially when they've come to the gym to work out."

Which might not be an exact quote. Because that statement happened before I busted my ass doing the workout. But it's close.

It's a good reminder for me that strength isn't entirely about how much weight you can lift.

Solo Hike Book Progress Report

I've ordered my proof copy of my next volume of Hike with Me. I spent the Thanksgiving long weekend working on one of the most important components - the photos.

I took over 2000 photos over the course of that solo trip, but it would be impossible to include them all. I enlisted my husband as a helper and, together, we looked at every single one and chose about 200 for inclusion in the book.

That was the easy part.

The hard part was the process of placing the photos. First, I had to open a Gimp file, chosen based on whether I was doing a single vertical picture, a single horizontal or a double horizontal. Then, in that file, I opened the image files as layers, re-sized, scaled or cropped them depending on the picture. Next, I inserted a text box in the file for captions for each image. Next, I saved the file, and then exported the image to a jpg file. And then, at last, I could insert the photo into the Word document where I wanted it to live.

Pictures for a blog are so much easier!

So easy, here's a pika!

After completing that process for every scenery picture, I then tracked down my new equipment for this year and took portraits of that. Those photos were cropped out of their backgrounds, and then inserted as a layer into a smaller Gimp file where I added a caption. This is a departure from last year, when I inserted equipment pictures into their own full pages with reference markers rather than captions.

I did take some time off from this intensive labor to go to the gym. I rode a stationary bike on Friday, went climbing and running on Sunday. Managing stress with exercise is important. But I probably could have used more.

It is a wonderful feeling to relive my solo trip through reading what I've written and looking at the pictures that I took. But in creating this book, I want everything to be the best that I can make it. I want to provide an experience that gives readers some of the same senses of awe and fear and humor that I felt out there. And I put a lot of pressure on myself not only to do that, but to work to a deadline of having my book ready for Christmas.

And, barring something going horribly wrong, it will be. And it will be my best.

What Not to Do When Riding Your Bike

When the roads are not covered in ice, and the skies are not dripping snow or rain, I ride my bike to work. It's a short ride, less than two miles, and I have only one major intersection to navigate. But that one intersection is a doozy. 

The road I ride has no bike lanes. And it also has an unusual light sequence. Instead of having the left turn green arrow turn on before the straight green, it comes after. This means that while I wait to cross the street, I have to worry about people coming up behind me and deciding that they should turn right in front of me. 

Legally, they shouldn't be doing that. As a bicycle, I am a vehicle on the road, and cars should not be turning in front of me. But they do, and it is my most dangerous moment of the day. 

Or, it is on most days. 

One day, I was riding home and pulled up at the red light next to a white car that did not have turn signal on. I don't actually trust that, but I take it as a good sign. The light turns green, they go straight, and I pump my legs to get the bike moving. There's a lube shop just across the street, and I can see they are signalling to turn in. Miracle of miracles, they are actually waiting for me to pass before turning, rather than cutting me off. 

I ride by as fast as I can, and give them a friendly wave to acknowledge their gesture.

Then I almost fall off my bike when a car behind them blares their horn, presumably because the white care is not moving. I'm a bit pissed at that, because they were only being nice, and treating a bicycle like an actual vehicle with a person on it. So after they turn in, I turn around and flip the bird to that honking car. 

Now, usually, at this point in my ride, I would keep riding straight for three more blocks before turning right, but while I may have been foolish enough to flip off a car while on a bike, I wasn't foolish enough not to turn at the very next intersection and pedal my butt off to get out of sight. Their horn blared behind me as I turned, as well it might. 

My heart raced all the way home, but it was worth it. I hadn't ever done more than yell when cars cut me off or nearly ran me down, but this car had honked at someone else doing the right thing, and I wouldn't stand for that. 

Standing Strong

I overheard a snatch of conversation recently about Crossfit. Rather, about the speaker's idea of Crossfit, which boiled down to "I don't want to be yelled at."

Now, I cannot say that I have not been yelled at during Crossfit, in a technical sense. But I don't think that my experience of being yelled at is the same thing that these people were referencing. My particular experience has been that the Crossfit coaches want you to have good form, and they want you to complete the workout as best as you can. Therefore, they tell you how to improve your form, and they encourage you.

Now, during the WOD (workout of the day), loud music is played. Very loud. It's nice. I don't feel self-conscious about giving out barbaric yawps or swearing while music is blasting. Also, the beat can help keep your body moving. But the volume necessitates that the coaches raise their voices in order to be heard. Therefore, they yell.

But they don't call names, they don't belittle, and they do offer constructive comments, albeit at high volume.

One of the comments that I have frequently received at Crossfit is not to let my knees bend inward during squat motions. For several months, I only worked on not letting my knees bend inward while I was actually squatting. It was then pointed out that I do the same thing when I dip my knees for a power lift.

That was my wake up call.

I realized that the tendency of my knees to bend inward when bending, rather than outward, is a systemic issue. I have done it for as long as I can remember. If there's one thing I remember my dad saying to me as frequently as "stand up straight" it has to be "don't lock out your knees." The posture that I habitually stand in is one that weakly allows the knees to sag in. And I do it all the time - while I'm walking and running as well as standing. In order to stop receiving those comments during squats, I had to focus on the position of my knees when I'm not squatting.

After seven days of focusing on that, my squat position has improved. It is supposed to take 21 days to form a habit, and having that high volume encouragement at day 7 helps me to keep my focus on standing strong.

Not a Fluke

I have continued to run faster. It's not a fluke!

I managed to completely tire myself out over the weekend. My husband and I have started to sandwich runs around our Saturday morning weight lifting sessions instead of saving the run for the end. This past Saturday we ran 1 mile before the weights and half a mile after. I timed my first mile at 8:15, and I wasn’t sure I was reading the clock right or counting my laps right even with my handheld clicker counter. Even if I were slightly off on the timing or counting, it was my fastest mile ever. Ever!

I tried to get Ambrose to gauge his speed by carrying my cell phone with the MapMyRun app going. Unfortunately, it didn’t like him running on the track, which is about a tenth of a mile long. It counted the first tenth and then stopped counting, so he ran for about fifteen minutes, which was probably close to a mile for him.

We proceeded to our usual landmine session in the downstairs weights area, and then went upstairs to do the cable cross machine. Both of us were tired, so we didn’t do our full slate on the cable cross. Ambrose didn’t want to do the full mile run either, so I proposed that we do our fastest five laps.

I was going to go first so I’d have time to recover before hitting the bouldering wall. I wanted very much to run my laps in 4 minutes or less. With that goal in mind, I ran as fast as I felt I could sustain for the duration. By lap 3, I was hurting.

But it was worth it when I finished my 5th lap at 3 minutes and 44 seconds. Fastest (0.045 short of a) half mile ever!

Ambrose then ran his 5 laps. I noted his first split was 1:11, and then the second one took him longer. By the third lap, his time had continued to increase, so I tried to encourage him to go faster. On the last lap, he really pushed and finished lap 5 with a split time of 1 minute. His total was 6 minutes, which I think is a good place to start.

Actually, I hope he stays at that pace for a while longer, while I continue to get faster. I really dig the idea of being twice as fast as him.

On Sunday, I ran a 10K distance, split into 4.25 mile and 1.95 mile segments, because I stopped to do calisthenics at the new outdoor gym. Ambrose ran 2.6 miles to get to the outdoor gym, so he did beat me there and left before me. But I caught him up at the very last stretch of our run.

The combination of the cold weather and running every split under 10 minutes, for my first ever 10K distance under an hour, made me into a blob of soreness for the rest of the day. But my speed is not a fluke.

Speed Thrills

I go on a run almost every Wednesday with someone at work. We’ve been going outside for the most part, though I expect that to change as the weather continues to get colder. He and I tend to run between 10 and 10:30 minute miles on the outdoor run, which is faster than I have been running by myself, so I consider the Wednesday run my fast one.

Last week, my running buddy was not at work. I had all of my stuff ready for running, so I decided to go anyway, but since I’ve been getting through a cold and the weather wasn’t great I’d run indoors. I also planned on going nice and slow, taking it easy since I wouldn’t have anyone to goad me into running faster.

Once I got to the gym and changed into my running clothes, I headed upstairs to the track. I made a detour to swing on a pull up bar and remind my callouses why I don’t want them to disappear. Then, atypically for me, I walked a lap before starting to run.

And when I started to run, I was running fast.

Now, I have no illusions about being an actually fast runner. When I write fast, I mean, fast for me. The outer lane of the track is a hair over a tenth of a mile in length (1 mile is 10.09 laps), and I found myself running each lap in under a minute. When I’m doing my slow runs, I tend to run laps at about 1:08 to 1:20 minutes per lap.

Even though people passed me on the track, I still was going fast for me, faster than I’ve gone in a long time. And while I was uncomfortable, I wasn’t panicky. Even with my chest still feeling tight from being sick, I was making it work. I decided I would do my fastest 23 laps and stop. 23 because the route we usually run outdoors is about 2.25 miles and that would get me close to that distance.

I wasn’t quite sure when I started, but it was approximately 10 seconds to 11:48 (or that’s how I counted it), so I was quite happy to find that my first 10 laps were done in under 10 minutes. And I started pushing a bit harder and counted out my last 10 laps at just under 9 minutes (8:54). Since 10 laps is technically only 0.99 miles, I calculated out the pace to an 8:59 minute mile pace for the last mile. It’s still sub-9, and I’m counting it as a major win. That’s only the second sub-9 I’ve ever recorded and my first in about three years.

I guess maybe this running faster to run faster thing might be working.

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. 

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.

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.

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...

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.

Johnson Lake - Day 3

The first rays of sunshine hitting the tooth. 

We got up promptly at 6. Today was a day with a strict agenda. We needed to get back to the car as quickly as possible, so we could drive home before dark. I mean, we could have driven home in the dark, but it isn’t preferable on those roads. Not to mention I had to go to work the next day, and driving home after dark would mean a short night of sleep.

Goodbye, Johnson Lake!

It was Ambrose’s turn to cook, so I focused on getting dressed and packing up. It was cold enough that I decided to leave my long underwear on under my hiking pants and shirt - low 40s when we woke up, and low 50s when we left camp.

Why, yes, that is frost on that log. It was cold!

We ended up being almost completely packed up by the time we ate breakfast. Ambrose had experimented with frying the spam in the pot before cooking the grits and freeze-dried eggs in the same pot.

Ambrose often experiments with cooking, and I very often like the results.

This was not one of those times.

The spam had burned onto the bottom of the pot, and the char flavor permeated the grits and eggs. I was hungry enough to eat it, but I still complained about the flavor.

We headed out at about a quarter to 8. That’s not too bad, but I think we both want to get that morning get ready time down. It would be nice to be able to wake up and get moving in an hour or less.

I proposed that Ambrose lead the way out, since this was his first time to Johnson Lake. That way he would gain experience with the area - experience I already had since I’d been there before. And I promised to correct him if he went too far astray.

So he led the way from Johnson Lake to the main trail, and, just to show me up, he didn’t get lost once. Though I probably could have let him get lost at one point, but instead I pointed out the blazes he had missed…

Once we reached the main trail, we parted ways. The plan was for me to hike at my speed back to the car and get rested up so that when Ambrose arrived at the car he could hop in and I could drive us home. I was excited to see much time I could gain over him, and set out feeling decently awake despite not falling asleep on time the night before.

He had to stop right away for a call of nature, and I knew I’d have to stop soon, but I wanted to gain some elevation first. When I climbed over the level of the trees on the switchbacks up to High Pass, I looked back and saw him approaching the start of the switchbacks. He saw me and waved, and I kept heading up.

This is a picture of Ambrose. 

He's out there somewhere!

There he is!

I stopped for my own call of nature after High Pass, but I still managed to keep ahead of Ambrose. I made my way down the switchbacks, thanking the trail crew in my head for clearing the logs from them.

View from High Pass to the south. 

View from High Pass to the north. 

I was going fast. I knew from experience that my feet would start hurting soon, and I wanted to get to the car before that happened. But I also like pushing the pace, even though this would be the last hike of my season, and a part of me wanted to make it last. A bigger part wanted to beat the pants off of Ambrose, time-wise.

I noticed that the stumbly wall of rocks across washouts on the trail had become smooth paths, or even rocky stairs. Each improvement I noted brought another smile to my face.

Wilderness stairs.

Even expecting that I might run into the trail crew again, it was a surprise when I came upon them. I said hello, and thanked them for their work, and was off again before I could even remember to mention the mountain goats or show them the pictures.

I mean, I hardly paused to take pictures.

Not many flowers remained, compared to June and July.

Huge improvement.

The hike goes much faster downhill, and once I had reached High Pass, it was all downhill. Before I knew it, I’d reached the Neinmeyer junction and then the crossing of the Little Queens.

Now it looks like a tarp (the trail crew base camp).

Yes, it's a rock hop. Barely.

For some reason, the distance between that crossing and the next one felt longer than usual. I think it was because my feet had begun to hurt. Plus, I was anticipating that next crossing. I was not planning on taking my boots and socks off for it, like I had on the way up. Instead, I would chance flooding my boots by walking right across it.

The clouds were positioned perfectly to make this tree look like a smokestack.

On the one hand, cold water in my boots would make my feet feel a bit better, but on the other hand, water-logged feet end up feeling a lot worse the longer they stay in the wet. Not to mention stinky. I hate stink-foot.

So once I arrived, I analyzed the crossing. I chose the path that I had avoided on the way up, because it involved too many wet branches. This time, the branches were not wet, and even if they were, I didn’t care. I’d taken off my long underwear in the heat of the day. Okay, warmth of the day. It really didn’t get hot on this trip.

Yeah, still not a rock hop...

I made the fastest crossing I’ve ever done, stepping high and shoving my trekking poles down with authority. My gaiters got a little damp, but no water seeped into my boots. I was only a little disappointed that I didn’t get a cold water hydro-massage on my feet for the last hour of hiking. Or so.

I made it to the car before 1pm, after about 5 hours of hiking. The trailhead was mostly empty, with only a couple cars and no people in sight. I made coffee with the waiting french press in the car, and drank a carton of coconut water.

Since I started the chronometer running after we left, I estimated my time to be closer to 5 hours.

I expected Ambrose to arrive within an hour of my own arrival, but that time came and went. I finished drinking my coffee and poured his into my bottle. I debated bringing out a tarp and sleeping pad so I could nap on the picnic table. I read, and I waited.

I ended up dozing off in the driver’s seat of the car with my feet up and out the window when he finally arrived, about 2 hours after I’d gotten there. He was a bit wrecked, having had a bout of dehydration to combat as he came down the trail.

But he’d made it, and after he changed his clothes I began to drive us home.

Johnson Lake - Day 2

Good morning Johnson Lake!

Although I hadn’t seen them myself, Ambrose did report that the chipmunk was not our only neighbor. He had seen dogs and people around the lake when he went to rinse the pot out (he used dirt to scrub the pot, and then washed the dirt out of the pot into the water - not the food). I was too tired to care about that when he told me, but the next morning the information was more relevant. I wondered if they would come by where we were, or if they would be bothered by our presence. I didn’t mind them as long as I didn’t notice them. And even with a report of dogs, they hadn’t bothered me all through the night.

I slept in, but eventually my stomach growled hard enough to get me out of the tent. It was my day to cook, so I made up our dessert breakfast of apple crisp. For something that’s supposed to be four servings, it always seems to disappear too quickly.

Today was to be a day without an agenda - we could sit around and do nothing or go for a day hike or anything in between. I wanted to explore the area, but Ambrose preferred to stay at camp and relax, so I started to get ready after cleaning out the breakfast pot. Since I have a tendency to under hydrate while backpacking, and because it makes cleanup a lot easier, I boiled water in the pot to clean it, and then drank the apple crisp flavored hot water.

See it?

I got dressed in hiking clothes and packed my pack for a day excursion - everything but the cook kit and my sleeping bag and pad, essentially. I checked the topo map to determine which way I wanted to go. The plan was to walk around the lake, staying far enough back from the bank to avoid the neighboring campers, and then see what I could see.

I stopped to empty my bladder before I left, and heard the oddest sound. It was the clack-clacking of rocks falling down a slope, or the clop-clocking of shod hooves on rock, a tinkling slide of sound that brought our heads up in curiosity.

How about now?

After I finished my business, I walked toward the source of the noise, which seemed to be somewhere across the lake from us. I looked at the slope up to an 8200 foot ridge and saw absolutely nothing.

Then the mountain goats moved.

Five little white specks made their way across the talus slope while we watched. In the green areas, they were decently visible, once you spotted them, but once they were against a backdrop of rock and shadow they nearly disappeared. I wanted them to come down to Johnson lake for water so I could get a closer look at them, but there was no need. According to the topo map, there was another lake up there between the ridge we could see and the 8800 foot ridge overlooking Browns Lake that was not visible beyond it.

If they hadn’t made that sound in the first place, they would have passed above us without a sign, and we would have been none the wiser.

We stood there long after they had passed, trying to see where they had disappeared to.

When I left on my day hike, it was with a smile of wonder on my face.

I headed away from Johnson Lake, and then angled over in the direction of the other campers, and the outlet of the lake. There was another, unnamed lake visible to my left, and the outlet was just ahead of me when I saw one of our neighbors, standing where the outlet met the new lake. I stopped moving and waited. I saw a nice big rock ridge that I wanted to climb and stand on top of, but this person was blocking my route. I didn’t feel like being social, so I turned around and decided to circumnavigate the small lake first.

I kept the tooth peak in sight to make sure I could find my way back.

Another alien tree! And is that the guy from xkcd? 

I made my way through swampy grasses, trying to avoid the bushy areas. Bushes tend to trip me. I found the outlet of the small lake with a tempting log laying across it as a bridge. The problem was that there was another log that would make it difficult to get all the way across. So I took a metaphorical step back and saw that this crossing was, in fact, a rock hop. I scrambled down to the bank and used a boulder to get across without getting my feet wet or challenging my balance.

From there, I went up. I wanted to see where I ended up, and where I might go next. I ended up atop a rock overlooking the small lake, and decided to continue the circumnavigation.

 

I began to get a little paranoid about the other campers deciding to take a day hike and stumbling upon me. It isn’t that I thought that would be a bad thing, so much as I didn’t want to see anyone. I wanted to be alone, exploring and able to pee if needed without worrying about others’ sensibilities.

I came upon a ridge that could lead me directly to the rock I’d originally wanted to top. But there were other ridges behind it. And so I began to play that, “just one more” game. I’ll just go to the top of this ridge and see what there is to see. Oh, a tiny little lake and another ridge. Well, I’ll just go to the top of that ridge and see…

I stopped when I had passed my main landmark, which I call the tooth peak, and saw a little lake nestled in a bowl of land. I could hear water flowing down to it, and I figured that if I followed that little flow I would be able to find The Hole and Glacier Lake. But I’d promised Ambrose that I’d be back in time to make lunch, so I headed back.

I probably could have gone out a bit farther and still made it back on time, but I was getting hungry and I figured Ambrose would rather have me back early than late. There would be another time to go see those higher lakes.

I came back by finishing my circle of the small lake. The outlet was free of people, and I found a good log to cross it with. From there I went up and emerged to see Johnson Lake, roughly between their camp and ours. Ambrose heard my bell, so I couldn’t sneak up on him and surprise him. I guess if I wanted to do that I should have silenced it…

I made lunch, and just as we were about to settle in for some serious lounging, the two people and two dogs from the other campsite hiked by. They said they were heading back to the trailhead, and advised us that the smaller lake had good fishing. We waited only a few minutes after they left before heading over to check out their campsite.

After all, if it was better than ours, then we would want to know that for next time. Or even move camp if it was some kind of miraculously awesome place to camp.

The spot was decent, but no better than the one we had. The main difference was the sound of the outlet flowing by. It’s nice for me to have that to drown out Ambrose’s snoring, but it’s not required. There was a path visible continuing around Johnson, and I wanted to follow it to the mouth of the outlet. Ambrose wanted to head back to camp, so I promised I wouldn’t be long.

I made my way to a boggy meadow where I found the place where the outlet met the lake. I was tempted to cross it and continue exploring, but I’d promised. I turned around and saw Ambrose.
He had decided to follow me after all. We crossed the outlet and looked for spots that might make good campsites or places to explore. The ground was mostly either too wet or too steep for a tent, but the rocks near begged to be explored. I wanted to check out just one more place, and that led to Ambrose deciding we would circumnavigate Johnson together.

Is this a pica?

I think it's a pica. 

Now, this wasn’t the safest hike we’ve ever taken. We didn’t have any supplies, just my camera. So we took extra care with our steps and took some comfort in the fact that we weren’t that far from our base camp, should something happen that required equipment.

We made it safely around the lake, and just in time for me, because I had had an urgent need to dig a hole since about the outlet - but I didn’t have my trowel on me.

After that business was concluded, I joined Ambrose in lounging variously on rocks, dirt and him. I thought about getting in the lake, but I decided that the temperature was too chilly for that hobby. This time. I did really want to get to the island, but that, too, will have to wait - for a hotter day or a wetsuit.

I read on my kindle and chased the sunshine until it was time to cook dinner. I was too cold in shade to remain in it long. I made dinner and we adjourned to the tent to eat it, since there were a lot of bugs and the tent would be getting a season’s end cleaning after this trip. Ambrose began to sleep soon after dinner, but I was up reading for a while. Even after I wanted to fall asleep I couldn’t manage it. I wasn’t comfortable. I had Ambrose’s pack and mine under my feet, and I ended up turning my body around so that my head was elevated on the packs instead. That, and a couple of Benadryl, finally did the trick.

Ambrose called this chipmunk "Obi-wan-fat-one"

She was hungry.

Aw! Ambrose's first selfie. 

Not a bad shot of a deer through the mesh of our tent.