Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Memorial Day Weekend Road Trip

For the past several years, my husband and I have been spending the Memorial Day weekend at the Queens River Trailhead. It's a lovely site, with few campgrounds. We hike out of there in season, but for Memorial Day weekend, we generally just hunker down in the tent while it rains (as is tradition). Maybe a bit of a hike and searching for morels. But, the last two years, the site has been infested with people who have a very different idea of what constitutes a good time camping. Ambrose and I like to keep to ourselves, keep quiet and try not to interfere with anyone else's good time. These people like to drink to excess, fight with each other, and shoot guns towards a roadway for fun. When I found myself afraid to walk past their campsites to go use the bathroom, I knew that the time would come that we would need a change. 

That change came this year, as we decided to go on a road trip through Oregon instead. No real set plan. Just head west and see where we ended up. Maybe the coast, maybe not. We do both love the ocean but that's quite a bit of a longer drive. We started off on 84, but left that highway at Baker City to try and take roads we hadn't taken in a long time or ever. 












We made our way to Bend, and then, based on the gazette, decided to head towards Mt Bachelor and see what we could see. I was surprised that the ski lifts were visible against the snow even from the road, little tinker toy black sticks tracing a line up the snow. We thought about turning back as we discovered that snow covered the ground to the tune of a couple of feet near the highest point of the road. But then it started to clear, so we tried a spot near Elk Lake for camping. There were other people there, including several dozen tents that were from a Boy Scout troop. So we figured it would be fine, even though the site wasn't technically open for the season yet. 

I got the tent set up (since Ambrose had driven, I got camp chores), and we enjoyed the crisp air and started to settle into the tent. It began to rain, but we weren't worried. Rain wouldn't hurt us, not when we were all snug in our tent. 

The rain turned to snow. Wet snow. Heavy. It weighted down the roof of the rainfly, pressing it against the mesh roof. Still, we were content to stay and watch the pretty flakes falling. Until Ambrose went outside to relieve himself. When he came back to the tent, he slipped and fell on the bird seed bag I had put out as a door mat. I went out next, using my umbrella for protection from the snow, and when I got back, he insisted that it was time to leave. 

See, we could spend the night in the snow, no problem. It would be pushing the limits of what our gear could handle, but we could do it. The problem would be in getting out the next day. If it froze overnight, which it seemed likely to do, then the dirt road we had come in on might be impassable to our Ford Focus. Not to mention the high part of the pass near Bachelor. No, if we were going to get out for sure, it had to be now. 

So we left. It snowed while Ambrose drove with care. And then, when we got lower down in elevation, the snow gave way to rain. And the rain just wouldn't quit. It poured while Ambrose drove and the last of the day's light left the sky. It was difficult to see the lines on the road, center or side. And there were puddles to cross, and other cars that seemed to think going faster in that weather was just fine. We were both incredibly tense as we tried to find a hotel with vacancy, but it was Memorial Day weekend and raining cats and dogs. There weren't any rooms. We made it to a rest stop and spent the night in the car. 














The rest stop had several other cars and trucks in occupancy. I had a decent sleep, but my body felt all sore and achy from the contortions involved - ideally, I'd sleep stretched out in the back seat, but the car was too full of stuff for that, so both of us were in the front, half sitting and wrapped in our down quilts for warmth. I will say I was not cold. The rest stop also was apparently home to a cliff, with quite an interesting warning sign for dog owners. 


We headed off to find another campsite to spend the night. I picked one that we had passed by on the way in and set the Google Maps to tell us the way - but not the exact way that we had come. We were exploring, after all, so we took a new route. 

That route started to take us right through a cloud - better than the previous night's rain, but posing its own visibility challenges. But we emerged into some very pretty countryside. On the way, we found one possible campsite, but decided to keep going to places that were closer to towns. Ambrose wasn't in the mood for cooking, and preferred that we get meals from restaurants, which I didn't protest. 

We made it to Dixie Campground and set up for the night. It was cool, but not cold, and not nearly high enough altitude to snow. Though it was decently high, good for acclimatization. We ate lunch at a diner in Prairie City and then went back to the campsite, where I made good on a promise to myself and went for a run. It was actually my longest run in quite some time (39 minutes, 3 miles, uphill and downhill). 

Then back to Prairie City where we were on the hunt for some barbecue that we'd heard about when we ate lunch. Prime rib sandwiches and jojos (battered, fried potato wedges) - deeeelicious. Then back to the tent where we just hung out. I read, Ambrose napped, then we both slept. I had a really good night's sleep. So good that I didn't even look at the clock to protest when Ambrose decided it was time to get up. Of course, by the time we got into the car and started to leave, it was before 6:30 in the morning, so maybe I should have protested a bit. 









We almost had a problem leaving the campsite. See, it had rained pretty hard overnight. The road was muddy, and one of the trees above the road had decided it was just too slippery to hang on. It fell all the way across the road, blocking the exit in sight of the highway. I got out to assess the situation, see if I could maybe drag the thing around enough for us to pass. When I grabbed onto the end of the tree and began to pull, it surprised me by breaking off about halfway across the road - just enough room for us to pass. Ambrose didn't have to (get to?) bring out the hand ax. 

We drove on to a little town called Unity and found a place to get gas and breakfast. There was only one person working there who had to handle the register and cook, so it was a bit of a wait, but the food was quite good. Ambrose got the biscuit special, which was like biscuits and gravy but with added sausage patties and eggs. That made him pretty happy. 

Then we made our way back to Boise, taking one more scenic route through the Wallowa-Whitman forest, where we drove up and then down a pretty high pass. It was gorgeous, even if it was still cloudy. 

We headed out with no plan, and found a bit of adventure. Overall, a success. 












Wednesday, May 22, 2019

Officially Running Again

Yes, I did manage to complete 20 runs of 1 mile in April, but the real challenge with running for me comes when I exceed about 20 minutes of running at a time. Stopping at the mile mark doesn't stretch out what I need stretched out for backpacking, namely, the ilio-tibial band, specifically, the one on my right leg.

Without a good proper stretch, achieved through multiple runs of 30 to 60 minutes, on an at least weekly basis, my IT band will act up on a backpacking trip and make the first day on the trail, and a good part of the second, absolutely miserable as I stretch out that band while hiking with a 20 to 30 pound pack on my back.

I've done it. I know I can push through the pain, reduce the load on my hips (by putting most of the pack weight on my shoulders), and grit my teeth and make it through the day. That's how my solo trip on the Queens River Loop started. But, knowing what I know about the cause of this issue, there's absolutely no reason not to take preventative measures so I can enjoy my time on the trail a bit more.

So. I ran 30 minutes on an indoor track on Tuesday. It was supposed to rain all day, so I planned the track run. Of course, it didn't actually rain that much, so I could have gone outside, but I wasn't prepared for that. I stuck to my plan, which had the additional advantage of making me make lots of turns, which challenges the IT band a little extra.

I was also wearing my new hiking/running shoes. They are Altra trail running shoes, and I'm not one hundred percent sold on them being my new backpacking shoes, but I want to be. I mean, I did take them on a 7 mile hike up to Table Rock with a 14 pound pack, and they worked just fine for that. In fact, that was also the first trip I took with my new z-packs Arc Blast pack - a pack so light, it's hardly even there (especially compared to my last pack). I'll be writing a review on that once I have a few more trips with it knocked out. I definitely want to see how it does on an overnighter before I lay down my final judgments.

The Altras take some getting used to because they have zero heel drop, which makes your calves work harder at first as you adjust to the gait. When I tried running with them a couple weeks ago, I could hardly make it through a mile and a quarter because my calves ached so bad. They felt almost as bad today for the first fifteen minutes or so of my run, but I pushed through until the pain from the IT bad was worse and I could ignore my calves.

Actually, my run felt better and better the longer I ran. I felt looser and faster, though I was still running pretty slowly. It was just the IT band pain that bugged me, and I expected that since this was my first long run in a long, long time. I expect it will be less painful tomorrow, and even less the next time I run. I'm not sure when that will be, but it will be some time next week, because I've got to keep this up if I want to hike without going through all this pain yet again.

Wednesday, May 15, 2019

Gymnastics Fun

I wish my parents had let me do gymnastics when I was young. My cousin did gymnastics, and I kind of think that's part of the reason my parents objected. As I recall, my cousin suffered some injuries in the course of her sport, not an uncommon occurrence, and I think that scared my mom especially. The excuse I was given verbally was that the nearest gymnasium was too far for my mom to drive me. But somehow she was able to drive me a good half hour away to sing in a children's choir, so I don't know that I totally buy that excuse.

I did an informal tumbling class in college. Nothing fancy, just once a week, led by one of the tutors. We always warmed up to Prince, "When Doves Cry." I got close to being able to do an aerial, but I never did anything more impressive than a one handed cartwheel. And I did some rolling and tumbling in the course of doing Tae Kwon Do and Tang Soo Do.

I tried to attend an adult tumbling class when I first moved to Boise, but it was not a good atmosphere. They told me I couldn't use certain trampolines or other equipment because I was too old, but I interpreted that as I was too heavy and out of shape. They didn't do much to change my interpretation and I never went back after the first class.

And a little over five years ago, I started CrossFit, which, to me, has become kind of like a backdoor to learning gymnastics as an adult. I spent a year building the strength for a strict pull-up. I figured out I could do a kipping handstand push-up. And, for a while now, I've been working on getting a freestanding handstand. Not intensively, because my primary focus is still the Spartan Race in June. But I've added little gymnastics things into my accessory workouts. I've been following Kari Pierce on Instagram, and I try some of the ab workouts that she posts, to mixed success.

I've also been practicing headstands. Quite a few years ago, there was a women's only gymnastics class at my CrossFit box, and we learned a tuck press to headstand, which I could just barely do. I couldn't really stay balanced at the top, but I could lift my legs up. So lately I've been going back to that tuck to headstand and trying to find my balance there, hoping headstand balance will translate to handstand balance.

I ended up seeing someone's Instagram story where they did a pike press to headstand - several in a row, actually. And I don't remember who it was and I can't look it up since stories disappear. But whoever it was, they gave me the idea to try it. The first time I tried, I couldn't make the lift, so I decided to practice negatives, since I knew I could tuck press up.

But when I tried it for the second time, it worked. My legs lifted and I was so excited I bugged one of my friends to take a video:

By gum, I'm going to learn gymnastics even if I am too old for it. 

Wednesday, May 8, 2019

A Change of Pace

I went on a road trip last weekend to try and find hiking boots that would fit my feet. My old boots, a pair of Reichles by Mammut, are still wearable, and I may wear them still on occasion, but they now leak. Their waterproof membrane is no longer waterproof and that restricts their use to trips where I would want to be keeping my feet dry. Which is most of my trips at this point.

Maybe someday I'll be one of those hikers who wears lightweight shoes while backpacking, striding through streams and letting my feet dry as I hike on, but for now, I'm still a waterproof kind of hiker.

Although I did let myself be convinced to give trail runners while backpacking a try. I bought a pair of Altra trail runners, and I'm going to give them a shot. They are waterproof, so I'll still have that, but they are low top, and I'll admit a little nervousness about not having the extra ankle support. I'll have to be more careful with how I step.

The main reason that I went with these shoes is that my feet are pretty wide and while I began my backpacking career without being a stickler for boots that fit my feet, I have become a fervent believer that it doesn't matter how much the footwear costs - I need to protect and care for my priceless feet. So I need to be picky, even though it means I end up crying in front of the clerk at the REI flagship store.

There is a version of this shoe that is a mid-height instead of a low, but they didn't have it in stock so I decided to just try this. This kind of shoe has been used by many people hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, and I'm not going to be putting that many miles on my feet - at least, not all in one season. So I'll test these shoes as much as I can. I'll run with them, hike with them, even do the Spartan Race with them to really put them through the wringer.

Only time will tell if I can make the transition from boot hiker to trail runner hiker.


Wednesday, May 1, 2019

Courtesies of a House Guest

I used to be scared of spiders. I'd freak out and kill them if I saw them where I lived. The one exception was daddy long legs, which I found fascinating when I would see them in the side yard of the house I grew up in. I knew those weren't dangerous to me. Same thing with tarantulas, although I wasn't much exposed to them, I didn't have the same kind of shrieking reaction to my cousin's pet tarantula as I did when a tiny spider showed up on a wall or dropped down from the ceiling.

Maybe it was a sense of how this space was supposed to be my space, and in the proper order of things there should be no spiders.

I used to kill spiders, or ask others to kill them, when I encountered them in living spaces and working spaces.

But now, I'm a catch and release kind of gal.

And I think the change has come about because of backpacking.

Because when I go out into the woods and hike around for days, I'm constantly encountering bugs. The worst have got to be mosquitoes. Ticks are unpleasant as well. Horseflies are my mortal enemies - last year when one managed to bite me, I trapped it inside the tent with my, stunned it with a swat of a towel and impaled it as punishment. But spiders out there don't bother me.

Sometimes I'll see spider webs across the trail, and I'll try to avoid them because I don't like how they feel - especially on my face. But I also don't want to disturb the spider. At first, maybe out of fear, but now much more out of courtesy.

The spiders live out there. That's their home. And I'm just a guest. A visitor. So, after many years of backpacking, never once being bothered by spiders, I'm starting to return the favor. I don't hunt down spiders that I see on the walls inside my apartment. I let them live, just like they've let me be when I'm in their homes.