Illness and Impatience

I've been fighting one of those lingering chest colds for what feels like months now. To be honest, it's probably been only three or four weeks. Maybe five. I might even have passed through several colds by this point, getting over one only to fall prey to another.

I'm not sure whether I'm pleased that this cold (these colds?) has not been severe. I've only missed one day of work because of this illness, and I've kept up with my pull up workouts. I only missed one run club. But if I could just be down and out sick for two, maybe three days, and then be completely over it, I just might take that bargain.

It's frustrating to have the sickness linger, impacting my ability to workout as hard as I want to. I am so close to getting that first strict pull up, but I keep backsliding because I can't quite catch my breath, or I'm dizzy.

And yet, despite those complaints, I have to be glad that I'm working out through whatever this crud is. I took two whole rest days on the 25th and 26th and felt downright sybaritic. Two days. When a few years ago, I wouldn't have hesitated to avoid the gym for a week or more due to a cold. And then, I'd take it easy instead of pushing myself to keep up with my regular schedule.

Change is possible.

Last Run Club of the Year

Since Run Club is on Thursdays, and the next two Thursdays are holiday eves, the last meeting of the year was last week. At the beginning of the week, there was a lot of interest in attending. People who hadn't gone before were chiming in about how they would be there, awesome, of course.

Then Thursday arrived. A gloomy day full of near-freezing drizzle. And Run Club is at 6:30pm, which means that it is dark out at this time of year. Heck, I considered not going, because I was worried about the sidewalk being icy.

But in the end, I went. I stepped carefully on the sidewalk where snow was seriously considering accumulating and made my way to the meeting place. There, I was not surprised to find that most of the people who had chimed in on Facebook were not going to show up.

But, there were five of us ready to brave the darkness, the cold, the rain/snow and the slick roads. All women, of course, all Run Club veterans by this point. I suggested that we stick to the streets instead of sidewalks and hit the Greenbelt towards the university, because they would likely have taken care of their walking areas.

And so we set out, into the darkness and the cold. And we ran for over 4 miles, the wind at our backs going out. On the way back, the wind whipped our cheeks into redness, or, in my case, more redness since I was already getting hot by the time we turned around.

When we got back I asked about taking a picture, but the other women didn't want to because of our disheveled states. I suppose that my idea of appropriate picture time is tempered by my backpacking experience, when being a messy, stinky, dirty wreck is an accomplishment, especially if there's a view behind you. But even without a picture, we could all leave knowing that we were total badasses. We braved the weather and the dark together and earned every drop of sweat left freezing on the street.

Until next year, Run Club!

Pull Up So Close!

I'm so close to doing a strict pull up, I can almost taste it. Last weekend, I managed to do an assisted pull up with only 10lbs of assistance. And, for the first time in my life, I can get my chin over the bar with control. I'm excited at the progress and I'm hungry for the culmination. Can I get it before the new year? Before I visit family at the end of January? 

Time will tell. But until I get it, I'm focused. I even dreamed about pull ups last night. 

My First Backpacking Trip

My husband and I were looking for some pictures of a specific backpacking trip the other day. We wanted to find pictures from a trip to Paradise Creek, where we camped on a rise and heard what sounded like puppies. Of course, it wasn't puppies, not out there. Presumably it was wolf pups, but we never saw them. Instead, a full grown wolf approached our campsite and stared us down while the rest of the pack loped over the ridge out of sight.

I honestly can't remember whether I had a camera on that trip. It wouldn't have been the camera we have now, but I might have brought a low quality phone camera. I do remember when the wolf approached us I was in the middle of answering a call of nature, caught with my pants down.

While we didn't find what we were looking for in the photos, we did find a conveniently labeled folder of "capming july 2010" (I'll blame Ambrose for the typo). I sometimes try to remember exactly when my first backpacking trip took place, and I end up doing complicate memory math to figure it out. But I recognized those pictures. That was the first trip.

The trail to the steaming hot springs.

They only get steamier. 

On July 23, 2010, Ambrose and I hiked out to the Skillern Hot Springs from the Big Smoky Campground in Camas county. I wore an old day pack of Ambrose's, because we weren't going to invest heavily in gear for me until I knew I liked it. My clothing was also over-sized clothing from him. I didn't have much outdoorsy clothing at the time.

Heading back, bulky camera case on my hip. 

I insisted on taking Ambrose's old, bulky camera so I could have a record of my very first trip. The case alone was a burden, and the battery consistently crapped out after only a few uses, but it was the best camera we had at the time.

I was enchanted by the rocky seats at the campsite.

I can't believe it's been more than five years since this backpacking adventure started. 

That hike would be easy now. Less than three miles out, with very little gain. The last time we did that trip, I made it in just over an hour. The first time, I think we took more than three. But somehow, I not only liked it, I loved it.

The more I backpack, the more I want to backpack.

A much different kit for the coast hike in August, 2015.

Closer to the Pull

Right now, most of my workout goals are centered around getting a strict pull up. And having that solid goal, and a routine to go along with it, have helped me keep going, even as the weather lingers in the sub-freezing range. I'm running for weight loss, and I'm doing strength work three times a week for pulling.

And, even though I'm lifting lighter than I was this summer, I'm making more progress. After taking a break in September, I reduced my weights for bicep curls and farmer carries. But I've also increased the reps for my bicep curls and added a segment of stairs to my farmer carries. I don't know why, but it seems like this routine is better at strengthening my back than pushing myself to higher weights at lower reps.

My body is also lighter than it was last summer. The illness in September resulted in some weight loss, and continued dietary changes combined with increased running added to that total. I didn't want to lose weight for pull ups, but I have lost weight.

And I'm getting closer.

Where before I could try for a kipping pull up and maybe, just maybe break the plane of the bar with the peach fuzz hairs on my chinny-chin-chin, last weekend, I swung up and held my body below the bar with bent arms. For the first time that I can recall, I was supporting my body weight from the bar in a position other than dead hang or reverse shrug.

That first strict pull up is so close I can taste it.

Of course, making the first one will only whet my appetite for more, so I think I'll be having a good routine for a long time to come.

When the Bears Sleep

This is the season of rest. The season when my husband and I take a break from our backpacking adventures and recover. The season of rest, not only because the weather is cold and hunters roam our trails, but because we don't have the equipment to brave the snows and freezing temperatures.

I only started backpacking a few years ago, and there was no need to invest in the heavier (and more expensive) gear required for winter backpacking. There isn't really need now, but I'm starting to consider it, because the outdoors are calling me.

Maybe it's because I missed my solo trip, or maybe I'm just growing in my backpacking skills, but I have this itch inside. I ride my bike to work, bundled up and wind-proofed, inhaling the sharpness of the freezing air, and I don't want to arrive at my office. Sitting in a desk chair, heater under my desk, toilet facilities and potable water available at my whim... I'm not saying it's not a nice situation. It's a pretty good one, but I want to be outside.

I want to throw myself against the elements and discover my limits. I don't want to hibernate anymore when the bears sleep, fattened from their fall forage. I feel a call to spend the winter blazing new trails through the snow and learning how to make igloos. I'm itching to go outside and explore the seasons that are not summer. I want to meet them, and for them to meet me, to see if, like summer, we could be friends.

Pull Ups: Not Forgotten

After taking a hiatus from exercise in September, I'm back on track with my pull up plan. But I'm doing things a little differently. Instead of going for the heaviest weight I can possibly curl, I've started with a lighter weight and higher reps. There really isn't a good reason for this, other than I wanted to try something different. It seemed like my initial work with the plan wasn't yielding positive results of the kind I wanted.

I mean, I didn't feel like I was increasing my back strength. I know that using solely my arms to lift my body weight isn't the way to go, so I figured that by focusing more on form and high reps, I could build up those back muscles. Also, instead of doing the laying down pull up moves that I had added, I'm going chair assisted pull ups at home. It is a truly makeshift setup, but it lets me work on strength every day.

I've consistently had issues with how to do the barbell assisted pull up at my gym. Again, I'm not sure why, but adapting that move as my strength increases has just irritated me. I've landed at using my heels to provide the assistance, but I can only go so high with the bar. So now I'm doing single heel assists. Only time will tell if this modifications and adjustments will pay off.

The one piece of advice I hate for pull ups is to lose weight. Sure, losing weight means less weight to lift, but weight loss can also involve losing muscle mass. The balance is difficult. My hiatus did coincide with some weight loss, and that's part of the reason I went to lower weights. Since I've increased my aerobic activity by adding more running and continued three days a week of pull up workout plus one day a week of Cross Fit, I've continued to lose weight, though more slowly than when I was sick.

And sure, I like losing weight while gaining strength, but I don't want to go overboard. Unhealthy weight loss is not worth it, even for my pull up goal.

Lessons from Run Club

Last week was the first meeting of Run Club completely in the dark. Our group of four women ran along the Greenbelt, armored with headlamps and numbers. We came across a few other intrepid runners, but no other females braving the dark and the cold. My pace was pushed, but I welcome that. The only way I'll get faster is by going faster.

There were, however, a few other lessons that I'll need to take forward for next time.

1. Running has made my pants bigger. This may be due to a stretching factor, but no matter the reason, pants falling down is both inconvenient and cold. 
2. Keeping a cell phone in a lightweight jacket pocket causes the jacket to unzip itself. This also results in additional chill factor. 
3. For reasons unknown, my shirt slid up while my pants slid down, leaving a large slice of my tummy completely without protection from the cold. 
4. It's harder to listen to people talking when you're running as fast as you can to keep up with them. 
5. No one gets left behind at Run Club. 

The initial hesitance that I had with joining this running group was mostly due to speed. I can run comfortably around an 11 minute mile pace, and, after a warm up, I can get closer to those 10's. At my first two meetings, I was able to keep up with some of the faster runners and I felt good. The last time I found myself running with people who'd rather be doing 9's or 6's. I know that I held them back from doing their preferred pace, but no one complained about it. 

Sure, I'd like it if a few more people going my pace showed up, but I'm not worried about getting left behind or slowing other people down. The point of the run isn't to go fast or go crazy. It's to get out, even in this weather, even at this time of year, and move our bodies in good company. 

Long live Run Club. 

Back into Running Form

When I had a layoff from running in August and September, I despaired about ever getting back to a decent speed. It took so long for me to get comfortable at a 10 minute mile pace, and even over the summer when I was running I felt like I had lost it.

But it turns out that running more improves my running more. I've gone from a maybe once a week run to a three to four times a week run, focusing on different types of running. I've got a 4 mile run that includes a steep, hilly section. I've got a 2 mile quickie run. A 5 mile long run that I'm thinking about extending to 6 - I just need to map out a good route that adds a mile to my existing loop. And any of those runs can be modified by the addition of the 20 pound weight vest.

And then there's the Run Club, which lets me run with other runners and forces me to expand my lung capacity by talking and running at the same time. Running with that group has already shown dividends. I recorded a sub-10 minute mile on my 5 mile loop last Sunday after only two meetings, and I'm totally willing to attribute that to running with people who are faster than me.

But even though they are faster, I'm not comparing myself to them. I'm not competing. I'm trying to better myself, yes, but the goal isn't some vague kind of winning. The goal is to improve myself and discover exactly what the best me can do.

Run Club

The first rule of Run Club is: Come to Run Club. Seriously. Everyone should come.

There aren't actually any rules to the Run Club that I joined last Thursday. Other than the particular meeting time and place, I suppose. I was hesitant to go at first, because I'm not a fast runner. But this running club is not about speed. It's about getting out and running in a group, socializing and running. And, so far, it's about running with the girls.

A few years ago, I tried to join a community running group led by a shoe store, See Jane Run. They're closed now, in Boise, but while they were here I gave it a try. As I recall, four people showed up, two of them employed by the store. The other women were much faster than me, and though I tried to engage in conversation with the one who slowed herself to run with me, I never felt comfortable. And I didn't go back.

This running club is through Arbor Crossfit, though not strictly one of their programs, hence the "club" part of the name. One of the women there wanted a chance to socialize and run. Turns out, she's not the only one interested in that.

There have been two meetings so far, of which I attended the second, because the first was during the week that the Walker fire smoked out the Treasure Valley. I plan to keep going, even as the weather gets cold. As I told the organizer last week, I'll run in the cold, but not on ice, at least, not on the Greenbelt. Maybe in the winter we can do some special snow days in the foothills where I can break out my yaktrax to deal with the slippage.

The second rule of Run Club is: Keep coming to Run Club.

(Mostly) Running the Fit One Half Marathon

The day of the race dawned way too early. I was awake and moving before the sun rose. Heck, I was at the start line before the sun rose. And before that I was waiting in the very long port-o-potty line because even though I used the bathroom three times before I left the house, my nerves called for one more before the race.

The starting area was well lit, but surrounded by shadows. There didn't seem to be enough street lights, and the darkness made the corrals packed with people strangely intimate. The pace areas in the corral didn't make sense. No more than five feet of space for each division, even the 9 to 10 and 11 to 12 paces of the more casual runner. I settled in near the middle, though well behind the 17+ sign, and people who felt they should be closer to the front bumped and slid their way through the still and content part of the crowd.

I saw many runners with ear phones, music devices strapped to their arms. I don't run races with music. I used to run with music more often, but now I tend to limit that to indoor track runs or watching TV on a treadmill. When I'm outside, I like listening to the outside noises, especially when I run along the Boise Greenbelt. The river rushing by, the birds, the rustles in the bushes that might be snakes, squirrels or foxes, all of it contributes to my run.

I waited, alone in a crowd that seemed full of pairs and groups, for the race to begin. A slight delay was announced due to the police double-checking the roads were safe for running. And then we were off. I walked to the line with the crowd, in no hurry, and began to jog across the time chip line.

The first time I ran a half marathon, I let the crowd pull me into a faster pace than I could sustain. I did the first mile in a quick (for me) nine minutes and never quite recovered my pace. This time, I made myself relax as the crowd surged ahead of me. I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to run, but run or walk, I was going to finish. And that meant pacing myself.

Before I finished the first mile, despite having gone to the bathroom no less than four times already that morning, I had to pee again. I'd studied the course and knew that there would be a bathroom opportunity around mile 2. So I jogged on and made do. But then I saw the set up. The port-o-potties were off the course on the out-going leg. And there was a line. No way, I thought. I'll hold it until the next one.

Of course, I didn't know exactly where the next one would be, but I figured, worse comes to worst, I could always run into the Warm Springs Clubhouse and use their bathroom.

I ran on in the road, picking out people to stay with or catch. I wore a hydration pack, because I was concerned about staying hydrated. I saw two other women with such packs and tried to keep them in sight. As we veered off the road to detour through the Old Idaho Penitentiary, I passed one and then the other on uphills. Running or hiking, I do love my uphills.

I passed a group of four women wearing knee high Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles socks and I couldn't keep quiet. "I love your socks!"

I saw that the course was on the Greenbelt from the course map, but what I didn't realize was that we would run out on Warm Springs Ave and then turn to the Greenbelt to come back before the Parkcenter bridge. The road heads up as the Greenbelt comes down and I joked to another runner, "No fair, we have to go uphill both ways."

When I caught sight of the turnaround, I saw they had a stash of port-o-potties along with the cheering volunteers. I ran right past the arrow pointing out the turnaround, crying out, "Pit stop!" so the volunteer would know I wasn't just running off course for fun. Though there were fewer potties here, there was no line.

Heading back on the Greenbelt, I re-passed a few people, but for the most part I struggled simply to keep running. My body was beyond aching, and at every water stop I tossed the water directly on my head. The sun was hidden by clouds, but I was still hot.

I passed the half way check point and began to promise myself a break. If I could just make it to mile eight, then I could take a walking break. My right leg's perennial ITB issue was bothering me, though it wasn't a deal breaker - yet.

I was aware of the first official photographer that I came across, at a bend in the Greenbelt where it angles away from the river to accommodate the golf course. That awareness did not make my picture any better.

I mean, I'm kind of smiling... That's... good. 

After passing mile eight, I continued to allow myself little walking breaks after each mile. When I got close to downtown again, I could hear the anthem being sung. I was just in time to catch the rush of the 5K runners. The next picture was somewhere along Capitol I think. I wasn't paying as much attention because I was too busy resenting all these fresh runners, sweatless, breathing with ease and passing me not just because they were faster, but because I'd already run 10 miles before they started. Heck, I probably ran 5 before most some of them woke up. 

Just look at all those fresh 5Kers. Running along without a care in the world.

It was also around the time that I heard the anthem that I realized that the half marathon course was ending exactly like the 5K course, which I had run before a few years ago. It starts with a long slog uphill to the train depot. Which means that I was going to be finishing with a long slog uphill to the train depot. I walked that hill. I walked that hill real good.

I ran and walked along Crescent Rim Drive. I was slow and tired and in pain. I resented almost everyone running around me. But then I reached the downhill.

Downhills used to be my nemesis, but I've learned how to use them. I let myself go, running down the hill with the aid of gravity, thinking I could run it all from there, so little to go, less than half a mile.

But my body protested and I walked down Americana until the final turnaround that led to the finish line. That final segment, I ran. I high-fived every single person on the right side, not caring if I looked silly. I just wanted, needed, to feed off that encouragement so that I could finish strong.

The good news is I was hydrated enough to cry as I crossed the finish line, even though I hadn't drained very much from my bladder. I'd managed to pour enough water on myself to soak my shirt and pants, and I was still hot. I staggered into Ann Morrison Park and received my finisher medal. Then I saw my husband and stumbled over to him. Upon reaching him, I sat down on the curb and contemplated whether I could just stay there for the rest of the day, or maybe week.

He got me up and going. I collected my post-race food and made him take a picture of me with the medal.

And so, I know that I can do a half marathon following a period of inactivity and a two week running ramp up. I can finish it and not break myself. But I'm probably not going to go into another long distance race with such little preparation again.

Calling It a Half Makes It Seem Smaller

Way back in June, I signed up for a half marathon at the end of September. I figured that a summer of backpacking would prepare me for that distance of running and once the beginning of September hit, I could easily ramp up my running training and make a go of beating my first half marathon time. Not to mention the price couldn't be beat. By signing up back on that date, I only paid $15 - a number that is absurdly low for any distance race, let alone a half marathon.

A bout of intense stomach pain completely derailed my training plans for September. I was in too much pain to run, and I felt like if I hurt that much, then something must be wrong. If something is wrong, then running might exacerbate it. So I went to the doctor a lot, didn't get much sleep, couldn't eat enough and dropped over 10 pounds.

Pro Tip: This is not an ideal training plan for running a half marathon.

But when the tests came back negative and my pain was determined to be "functional," i.e. sure, there's something causing you pain, the pain is real, but we don't know the cause, I knew I wanted to get back to running. And I figured that even if I couldn't get into shape to run 13.1 miles in the next two weeks, I could at least get into shape to run/walk it. Or change my registration to the 5K.

Honestly, my first run after such a long hiatus made me think I would have to do the 5K. I was tensing my shoulders, which squished my chest, leading me to believe I could not breathe. I couldn't jog two miles without taking walking breaks. Part of that was from my ITB issue with my right leg. If it doesn't get worked out on the regular, then it hurts to start up again. But the hardest thing was breathing.

Muscles wanted to work, but lungs did not. The solution came, as it often seems to, from my husband. Not that he put it forth as such. Instead, he told me I should go for a walk with our weighted vest. He had 10 pounds of weight in it. I maxed it out to 20 pounds and walked to the Greenbelt. From there I started my slow running and, to my amazement, I could breathe.

The weight of the vest on my shoulders prevented me from hunching them up. Since my shoulders weren't tensed, my chest could expand more fully and I no longer felt suffocated.

But I still wasn't sure if I could do the half. Two miles with a weighted vest is well and good, but did I have the endurance to stay on my feet for the four or more hours it might take me to complete such a task in my current shape?

The answer to that I had to find myself.

And I found it on a hike up to Tablerock. My husband and I set forth in the morning wearing our hiking boots and carrying day packs. On the Greenbelt, we stayed together, holding hands. Our route took us past the Warm Springs Golf Course and across the street towards the Rock Island trail.

Once we hit the trail, we could no longer hold hands. The trail is too narrow. I found myself walking faster than Ambrose, pulling ahead of him as I climbed up. There is a plateau between where this trail tops out and the ramp up to Tablerock. I sat and hid in the shade of some rocks as I waited for him to catch up. I watched a large bird of prey ruffle its feathers on a boulder and then fly off.

When he arrived, I asked if he had any sunscreen. My skin was feeling the heat. It turned out that he didn't, but I did. We both applied some and then moved on. I took the lead again and tried my best not to stop for a break on the steep portion of the trail Ambrose and I call the ramp. Even at a slow speed, my calves were killing me, begging for a break that I refused to grant them.

New benches greeted me at the top, as well as a whole lot of people. I sat on one of the new, green benches for a bit, looking out over Boise and watching a small group of people eat fruit rolls. Then I moved to a rock overlooking the trail I'd come up and sat there, waiting for Ambrose to catch up again.

He joined me and made me eat something. Then we headed down by a different path, going around towards the quarry and then taking a scramble back to the plateau. I was nervous going down the steep parts without my trekking poles, but caution was enough to keep me from falling.

We stopped by the Warm Springs Golf Course clubhouse to get burgers and beer as a reward for our morning's hard work, and it was there that I was able to express that I felt confident that I could complete the half marathon distance. Even if I had to walk, even if I was the last person through the finish line, I had the endurance in my body to finish.

Ambrose, of course, said he figured I'd say something like that after the hike.

For the next week, I kept on doing short runs and walks, getting ready to find out just what my best was on September 26th.

Olympic Coast Hike Summary Day 6

For reasons beyond my control, I could not do a solo trip this year. In order to continue to put out a Hike with Me book this year, I’m going to use the coast hike. These entries will be shorter than normal, because the full story will be published this winter.



The last day is the hardest day. Sure, the packs weigh less because of all the food we've eaten, but taking our last steps on the beach we didn't want to leave was a heavy proposition.

View from the campsite. 

I got to sleep in this last morning, the only night we actually camped on the sand.

Out tent was nestled on the sand here, above the high tide line. 

Though none of the days of our trip were really rainy, this one was the sunniest. 

Ambrose getting water. 

After we made it past the rocks between Chilean Memorial and the Hole in the Wall, people were everywhere. 

To the left, a hoard of school children were taking advantage of the low tide to frolic on the rocks. To the right, campers and day hikers crowded the beach. 

I wanted to hurry to the bathroom at the trailhead, but I also wanted to stay with Ambrose, despite his slower pace. We started the trip together, and that's how we finished it.

Bathroom in sight... almost. 

It was a relief, in some ways, to finish the trip. The hike was difficult; the learning curve steep.  Not to mention we were just about out of food. 

Bathroom definitely in sight now. 

The ocean calls me back. 

This video is from when we waited for the tide on day 5.

Olympic Coast Hike Summary Day 5

For reasons beyond my control, I could not do a solo trip this year. In order to continue to put out a Hike with Me book this year, I’m going to use the coast hike. These entries will be shorter than normal, because the full story will be published this winter.


I cowboy camped. I have proof.

Faking sleep? Yes. But that is how I slept.

A whale was beached here a few years ago. Now, just the bones remain.

An Ambrose added for scale. 

I got better at spotting treeline campsites. Of course, some of them were pretty obvious in retrospect.

Buoys in tree? Check. Swing? check. Probability of campsite: High. 

I asked Ambrose to take pictures of me going up and coming down the required headland trail.

This is one of the few shots that doesn't include his fingers. 

We found a good spot to wait out the tide. A fresh water trickle and plenty of driftwood to sit on.

Trust me, this is a good flow of fresh water. 

When we passed the spot where we had lunch on the first day, I knew we weren't going to make it to the Chilean Memorial before the sun set. 

While Ambrose climbed down, I took pictures from our former lunch spot. 

And so we traversed Cape Johnson in the dark. There was no headland to avoid the rocks. Our headlamps guided us and we didn't get to bed before 11 p.m.

The sun has gone to bed, but we have more to do before we could.

Olympic Coast Hike Summary Day 4

For reasons beyond my control, I could not do a solo trip this year. In order to continue to put out a Hike with Me book this year, I’m going to use the coast hike. These entries will be shorter than normal, because the full story will be published this winter.

Farewell, Cape Alava!

We left the campsite in the morning mists and began our journey back to Rialto Beach.

Headland trail through Wedding Rocks. 

Though the tide was low, we took the headland trail through Wedding Rocks.

Headland trails are fun!

I really dig the headland trails, especially when they have ropes.

Sand Point headland trail. 

Not all the headland trails involved climbing. The one across Sand Point was totally flat, and well marked.

Cute!

We saw otters running out of the ocean. This may be the cutest thing.

Ready for its close-up.

Of course, then this deer let us get within 10 feet and didn't spook.

Starfish!

And then Ambrose found me a starfish. This was a day of much cuteness.

Me in the ocean, and Ambrose's finger.

I frolicked in the ocean at Yellow Bank.

The view from bed. 

We cowboy camped that night above the beach. Best view ever? Quite possibly.

Olympic Coast Hike Summary Day 3

For reasons beyond my control, I could not do a solo trip this year. In order to continue to put out a Hike with Me book this year, I’m going to use the coast hike. These entries will be shorter than normal, because the full story will be published this winter.

Good morning, mist. 

This was the fastest that I've ever gotten up and gotten packed. A dry camp is a powerful motivator.

Bucket included.

We found water!

A nice little camp. 

It was time to take a day of rest and allow ourselves to enjoy the beach.

Listen closely, and hear the chorus of sea lions: arw? arw? arw? arw?

I did a day hike, so, technically, I went farther than Ambrose did.

A view I didn't share with Ambrose. 

The Osett Memorial. 

The day passed in watching the tides and seeing the sun set into the ocean.

Watching the sun set. 

Olympic Coast Hike Summary Day 2

For reasons beyond my control, I could not do a solo trip this year. In order to continue to put out a Hike with Me book this year, I’m going to use the coast hike. These entries will be shorter than normal, because the full story will be published this winter.

The Norwegian Memorial

We started the second day with the roughest portion of whole trail. Rocks, rocks and more rocks.

Still two trekking poles...

Ambrose broke his trekking pole, but didn't break his leg.

More rocks.

We chose to stop at the party platform to wait out the tide.

Chillin' on the buoy swing.

After the tide receded, another short rocky section gave way to a long sandy beach.

Stealth deer.

Hunting for water we instead found this huge fish carcass.

It was smelly.

A second night of dry camping - this time with only just enough water for dinner.

Second ever ocean sunset. 

Olympic Coast Hike Summary Day 1

For reasons beyond my control, I could not do a solo trip this year. In order to continue to put out a Hike with Me book this year, I’m going to use the coast hike. These entries will be shorter than normal, because the full story will be published this winter.



On the first day of our coast hike, Ambrose and I hiked from Rialto Beach to the Norwegian Memorial.

Along the way, we began to learn about the ocean, and how tides would affect our hiking lives on this trip.

We enjoyed delicious smoked salmon and a long period of contemplation when the tides bottled us up on the rocks for about five hours.

It was strange to come upon people towards the end of our hiking day, people who were clearly day hiking, wearing jeans and not carrying packs. Children flying kites along the beach.

The memorial was a nice place to camp, full of solitude and with an excellent view for my first sunset over the ocean.