Adventure | Bertram's Blog

Pop Goes the . . .

March 9, 2018 — Pat Bertram

Today as I was walking — simply walking slowly with a weighted backpack, no false step or stumble — I heard a tiny pop in the front of my thigh. There was no pain, but after walking a bit farther, I felt a faint ache. I had no trouble walking back — the road was downhill all the way, which uses more hamstrings than quadriceps — and when I got to the house and shucked off my pack, I iced the thigh. Now I have it wrapped in an Ace bandage to contain any damage, though there’s still no real pain. It’s entirely possible the effects of any damage will show up tomorrow, in which case I will have to decide if I should rest or if it would be possible to continue my backpack training.

Or it could be nothing.

Still, this is the sort of thing I’ve been concerned about — I know a person can develop muscles at any age. Even the feeblest person can get stronger with a bit of effort. The trouble is that as one is getting in better shape, the body continues to age. My quandary has always been to see if I can get strong enough for a backpacking trip before my body falls apart enough to make it impossible. People always say age is a state of mind, which is true to a certain extent, but age is also a state of body. As of right now, there is no way an average person can reverse the aging process. (I say average person because who knows what mad scientists, holed away in secret laboratories, are cooking up to create everlasting bodies.)

But, as one friend said recently, “What other choice do you have?” We can’t just stagnate, waiting for age to take its toll. We have to try . . . something . . . whatever that something might be. And, for lack of any other dream pulling on me, this fabled backpacking trip is my something.

The more I practice backpacking, the more the dream changes, and it remains to be seen what, if anything, I will end up doing. My research into the Pacific Crest Trail culture makes a thru hike, or even a long section hike, seem less a spiritual journey and more of a bacchanalia, though how people who have hiked all day can have any energy for drinking or sex is more than I can understand. (Admittedly, this is only a small part of the culture, but nothing I want to have anything to do with.)

And then there are the problems of feral dogs, wild bulls, and hikers that disappear off the grid.

Not exactly my idea of a spiritual journey.

I get a bit embarrassed at times when people express their appreciation of my courage and adventurous spirit, because as of right now, my only backpacking experience comes from my local weekend saunters. But even that is something. I mean, how many people strap on a twenty-six pound pack (plus a two-pound belly pack) and go walking. For fun.

Well, we shall see what happens. I hope this “pop” turns out not to be anything serious. I’d certainly hate to give up the dream — whatever that dream might turn out to be — because of something that doesn’t even hurt.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels Unfinished, Madame ZeeZee’s Nightmare, Light Bringer, More Deaths Than One, A Spark of Heavenly Fire, and Daughter Am I. Bertram is also the author of Grief: The Great Yearning, “an exquisite book, wrenching to read, and at the same time full of profound truths.” Connect with Pat on Google+. Like Pat on Facebook.

Posted in Adventure, life. Tags: adventurous spirit, age is a state of body, age is a state of mind, develop muscles at any age, Pacific Crest Trail culture, popping sound in muscle, spiritual journey, we have to try. 8 Comments »

Too Old to Hike the Pacific Crest Trail?

March 1, 2018 — Pat Bertram

Ever since I’ve started walking with a twenty-five pound pack two or three days a week, I’ve been waking up extremely stiff and sore and wobbly even on non-hiking days. Apparently, that’s what I get for trying to build up my strength!

Still, I would have thought that increased activity would eventually translate to an increase in agility and and mobility, but that’s not happening. At my age, tendons and ligaments lose elasticity, muscles lose strength (at a whopping 30% per decade without high intensity workouts and additional protein intake to offset the loss), and joints can be painful even if there is nothing particularly wrong with them. (So if I weren’t trying to build up my strength, I’d probably still wake up stiff and sore.)

Once I’ve “oiled” my muscles and joints by moving around and stretching a bit, I am okay, but I worry about the night stiffness and early morning adjustment on the trail, so I’ve been researching the feasibility of long-distance backpacking for older adults. I know there are quite a few famous folks who backpacked well into their eighties, but some of them were life-long athletes, others seem naturally strong or obstinate. But what about regular folks like me who aren’t particularly athletic and who come to backpacking later in life? The prospect of a long distance backpacking trip, or even a short one, is daunting enough without adding the challenge of age to the mix.

Apparently, though, for someone in reasonable health, there’s no reason not to attempt such a trek, (though anyone with even the beginnings of heart or lung problems would need to check with their doctor before setting out). From what I can gather, everyone, no matter what their age, hurts on the trail. Older folks just have to be careful to stretch when possible, use trekking poles to save knees, elevate the legs when resting to redistribute the blood flow, and carry as light a pack as is feasible. (Feasible for an older person is different than for a younger one. Some hikers can get by with a tarp for a tent, or an almost non-existent sleeping pad, but not me. I need a bit of comfort or I’d never sleep, and if I never slept, I wouldn’t get very far.)

Of course, age is truly relative when it comes to backpacking. I recently came across a demographic survey of hikers, comparing the younger folks with the older folks, and the cut-off age was thirty-four. (The “young” group was under thirty-four, the “old” group was thirty-four and up.) And, in a forum discussing the advisability of older folks thru hiking, I came across a query from a fellow who said he was going to be turning thirty, and he wanted to know if he was too old to attempt a thru hike.

Interestingly, older folks who did long-distance backpacking trips after retirement seemed to have more fun than the younger ones because they knew what they wanted from a hike. Some wanted to go the distance, others just wanted to be out in the wilderness for five months. While a lot of the younger folks complained about the hardships, the older folks enjoyed all of it, even the rain and such because often they were fulfilling a lifelong dream. Some of the experienced older hikers did the same sort of insane mileage as the younger ones, but most seemed okay with going slower and savoring the journey, whatever the length. Older people are also more liable to enjoy the hike because after a certain age, pain and stiffness are a fact of life, so physical discomfort might not as much as an affront as it would be to a younger person.

If I were looking for reasons to give up my idea of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (more than the day hikes I have already done, that is), I didn’t find them.

So, this weekend I will add another pound to my pack weight for my conditioning hike and bring my impossible dream a step closer to possible.

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Posted in Adventure, culture, life. Tags: age is relative when it comes to backpacking, fulfilling a lifelong dream, older thru hikers, older women backpackers, Pacific Crest Trail, Pacific Crest Trail calls to me, thru hiking. 5 Comments »

What I Should Be Doing

February 26, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I did a quiz about what I should be doing for the next six months. This is the response I got:

For real!! Admittedly, the quiz was sponsored by a sporting goods store focused on hiking, but still, to get such a response seems . . . prophetic.

For sure do I seek change. In fact, I desperately need a change. And I certainly am ready to strap on my boots and just take off. It sounds so wonderful to go where the wind blows and the trail goes. But though my mind (and will) are strong, the body is still so weak. My ability to carry a twenty-five pack for any length of time has more to do with growing stubbornness than growing strength, which makes me wonder about any sort of multi-day hike.

I keep telling myself all I have to do is get through the next two months, and then I can head north. I do not want to come back, but I promised, and much as it pains me, I try to keep my promises.

But then, who knows?

Actually, what my heart really longs for is to go back home to Jeff, but that is not a possibility since he’s gone, so the PCT will have to do.

***

Posted in Adventure, culture, life. Tags: building strength to carry a pack, desperately need a change, following the trail, going where the wind blows, hiking quiz, Pacific Crest Trail. 7 Comments »

On The Trail Again

February 24, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I managed to get outside today before the winds returned, so I had a lovely trek in the desert. Oddly, after the hiatus from my faux backpacking trips, I could barely lift the pack, but once it was strapped on my back and resting on my hips, I hardly noticed the weight. Well, not much.

You’d think while I’m out sauntering around on desert trails, carrying an addition twenty-seven pounds (additional to my own weight, that is), that the urge to go backpacking would leave me since trekking with a pack is hard work, but nope. The hook remains. I’ll be interested to see if after I finally get out in the wilderness by myself, the desire will be as strong.

The other day, I was chatting with a friend who suggested that my Seattle trip should be just for my sisters (and dealing with Jeff’s ashes) rather than adding a short solo backpacking trek to the mix. She said, “Why not just do the longer trip in September?” My answer shocked both of us into laughter. “But what if I hate it?”

Despite that totally unexpected response, I truly do not think I will hate being out there by myself. I’ve hiked alone. Camped alone. Could it be so different?

I’m not really that naïve. Of course it could be different — a whole lot different. So, yes — a short backpacking trip first, a trip where someone can come get me if I run into trouble. Afterward, I can decide what comes next.

Meantime, there is the rest of my May trip to plan. As I am writing this, I am printing out a brochure for a San Andreas Fault road tour in the Carrizo Plain National Monument. Although I have no interest in driving along ghastly roads, the San Andreas Fault does interest me. Years ago, I went searching for the fault line (which, I discovered to my horror, was a mere ten miles from where I was living at the time), and though I found traces of the fault in displaced red earth and a lake (pond, really) that had been created by a fault sag (a place where the land sank as a result of earth movement along the fault) in the early twentieth century, there was no obvious indication of the fault, no break in the earth, no line. But apparently, in the Carrizo Plain, the line itself is visible. Probably looks like a dry creek bed up close, but still, if the weather, me, my car, and my nerves hold up, it might be an interesting tour.

Earlier today, I printed out information about the Hoh Rain Forest in Olympic National Park. I get a kick out of that — the idea of going from desert to rain forest in just a few days. Talk about jet lag! Car lag? Cultural lag? Geographic lag? Some kind of lag anyway.

It’s funny — January seemed about three months long, probably because I had added the practice backpacking trips to my normal schedule of dancing, blogging, reading (not writing, you might notice). But February evaporated. Just . . . disappeared. The four months until I start my May trip have shrunk to two months (although I call it my May trip, I will actually be leaving about this time in April).

Yikes. Still so much to do! By this time, I’d hoped to be further along in the weight addition category (being able to carry more weight in the pack), the weight reduction category (carrying less weight on me to keep my knees and feet from having to deal with extra poundage), the planning (though that is coming along quite nicely), and the writing. (I’d still like to finish that last work in progress before my life veers into a different direction.)

I better get cracking.

***

Posted in Adventure, life. Tags: Carrizo Plain National Monument, from desert to rain forest, Hoh Rain Forest, Olympic National Park, practicing backpacking, San Andreas Fault, San Andreas Fault road tour, solo backpacking trip. 3 Comments »

Faux, Faux Backpacking Trek

February 23, 2018 — Pat Bertram

It feels like forever since I’ve been on one of my faux backpacking trips, as I’ve been calling my treks in the desert carrying a backpack filled with bottles of water. (Water, because it’s easy to control the weight since each 16.5 oz bottle weighs a pound — or, in honor of my Aussie friend, each 5 litre bottle weighs 500 grams. And water because if the pack becomes too exhausting to carry, I can lighten the load by pouring out the water.)

In reality, I’ve only missed one weekend (last weekend because of my state line adventure) and one day (today because of lunch with friends and a disinclination to spend much time in the bitterly cold winds).

Still, today hasn’t been a total hiking flop, though the trip has been all online — a faux, faux backpacking trek, so to speak. I’ve finally started printing out the maps and information I need for my camping trip in a couple of months, and already, after a single stop on this e-trip, I can see myself driving straight through to Seattle.

For the first day, I’d planned to drive by the Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve to see if any poppies were still in bloom, though because of the lack of rain, there won’t be any “still” since the poor things might not bloom at all. In fact, as of right now, only a few plants have sprouted.

Then I planned to head to Carrizo Plain National Monument. I’d hoped, of course, to be able to see some wildflowers, though that wasn’t my real reason for the stop. (My real reason was that I’d never been there and it seemed a viable place to camp on the way to the coastal highway.) Here, too, it seems as if there will be no bloom, though last year the place bloomed with phenomenal colors, so much so that more than a hundred thousand people visited the plain to see the very unplain “super bloom.”

At least I won’t have to worry about crowds when/if I go, though I do wonder about camping. Apparently, there is only a partially paved road in the monument, and that doesn’t go anywhere near the campgrounds. Ten miles or more on dirt roads in my ancient vehicle? Eek. Although much of the working parts of the car are still sort of new, such as the new engine and rebuilt transmission, the weldings are forty-six years old. Remember those early comic books where an old car drove down a horrid road and suddenly, the entire thing fell apart? Not something I would like to test.

Also, during the time I would be there, the self-guided Painted Rocks tour would not be available because of nesting birds, (a reason I can accept) so I’d have to take the three-hour guided tour. I suppose it could be fun, but I’d have to drive to where the tour started, and there are those roads again. (Some of the roads are clay, so if it threatens to rain, you are urged to leave immediately or be stranded since the roads become dangerous when wet. More eek.)

I considered dispersed camping, but there again, I’d have a long drive on iffy roads.

Still, a straight-through trip to Seattle is not an option — I have things to see and people to visit along the way — but I am making a note to myself: make sure you have a back-up plan, such knowing where to find a motel for the night.

***

Posted in Adventure, culture, life. Tags: Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve, back-up plan, Carrizo Plain National Monument, driving to Seattle, Painted Rocks, super bloom, visiting California. Leave a Comment »

We’ve Got Spunk

February 18, 2018 — Pat Bertram

This was not just a girls’ night out, but a girls’ weekend away. A friend and I went to a town near the state line of Nevada. We ate, drank, gambled, and were merry. Well, as merry as two quiet women who imbibe tea, cranberry juice, and water can be.

Friday evening was mostly spent standing in line for tickets to the Isley Brother’s concert (the purported reason we were there). Well, she stood in line. I wandered around, checking out the décor, though periodically, I would return to see how she was doing. I got rousted a few times by the security guards at the ticket booth — one barred my way and refused to let me pass, one wouldn’t let me in the door to get back in line, and another wouldn’t let me out again. Not exactly Thelma and Louise, but one takes one’s rebellious moments however they come.

On one of my forays around the casino, I discovered Zoltar, a celebrity from a Tom Hanks movie. Zoltar kept telling me he’d grant a wish, but I figured I’d just as soon grant my own wishes. That way, I’d have less chance of screwing things up and getting Big. Or little. Or some silly thing like that.

Tucked away in a corner, I found Pat’s Saloon. Dirty Pat’s Saloon, but who’s going to read the small print? It’s my kind of place — quiet, even moribund, and the drinks are dry. Literally dry. Not dry as in wine, but dry as in no drinking. Dry as in no liquid.

After breakfast on Saturday, we visited the outlet mall. The stores hadn’t yet opened, but it didn’t matter — I find shopping to be only slightly more appealing than stepping on Mojave green rattlers. Still, it was fun to do something I haven’t done in a very long time — wander around a mall.

The rest of the time, we spent gambling. (That, and eating.)

Playing the slots is not something on my list of things to do, not something I ever think of doing, but the two times I specifically went to Nevada to gamble, this state line trip and my Laughlin Adventure, I got into it. Yesterday, I sampled many different machines, but the Dragon Spin game was the most fun because it was the most active — lots of noisy wins, even more quiet losses. But all things considered, a cheap, and at times riveting, entertainment.

The Isley Brother’s concert was disappointing. I don’t know why it never occurred to me that an old timey band would play in a modern way, but they did — strobe lights, insanely loud volume, heart-stopping bass, skinny dancers that my friend and I (neophyte dancers though we might be) could outdance any day. The worst, though, were the fans. The much younger female in front of me kept standing up to dance, so much of my view was of her back end. Eek. And the very large fellow beside me had an extremely loud whistle he kept blowing. Even worse, he kept dancing in his seat, and with every move, his elbow slammed into me. Luckily, the seat next to her was empty, so we were able to move down a seat (and even more luckily, I remembered to bring ear plugs, which cut down the bass reverberation so I could actually hear the sung words.) Not surprisingly, a large percentage of the audience watched the performance on their phones as they taped the show. It almost seems that nowadays nothing is real unless it is seen on a screen or is recreated in a form that can easily be posted online. (I won’t even mention the vast parade of cleavage visible on so much of the female audience. Whoops. See how I am? I did mention it!)

But the disappointment was a mere blip in the quiet thrill of the weekend. My friend is pleasant to be around, generous, and a good sport. (She’s the first person ever to join me on any of my desert rambles.) That, coupled with a weekend that was far from my normal weekends, made this a perfect vacation for me.

I’d told her about my travel journal, and on the way back, she asked if I’d put our trip into the journal. I said yes, of course — although the journal was given to me for my May trip, I’d already planned to use it for all my 2018 adventures. Of which this was one.

The first thing that will go in the book is the birthday card she gave me: Who needs estrogen when we’ve got spunk? (It’s not my birthday, but we celebrated it anyway.) What an absolutely perfect sentiment for the beginning of my yearly adventures!

Since the card and the record of this adventure would be the first entry into the journal, it made me wonder if I’d forgotten anything, so I checked my web log (this blog) to see what adventures I’d had so far this year, and the only vaguely advendurous thing I’ve been doing is my faux backpacking trips on the weekends.

How boring can one person be?!

Apparently, I need more adventures, especially pleasant ones like this state line trip.

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Posted in Adventure, culture, life. Tags: dragon spin, girls' night out, Isley Brothers concert, Nevada state line, spunk, state line gambling, zoltar. 4 Comments »

Climbing Mount Everest

February 12, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I bet you guessed I didn’t really climb Mount Everest today, but it sure felt like it. Dance class was cancelled, so I strapped on my backpack and headed out to the desert despite the strong wind alert. The alert was right — those were very strong winds. Very cold strong winds. But I persevered. If I were on a real backpacking trip, I would have to deal with whatever weather comes my way, and today it was the wind that came.

Once I got to the desert, I did my usual loop, which takes me up a hill and back down and around, and the winds made that hill feel like a very steep mountain. I had to stop several times to catch my breath on the way up, but by the time I crested the hill and felt the full force of those winds, I was sure I’d done something as magnificent as climbing Mount Everest.

Oddly, although sometimes I feel very foolish for thinking about a long trek in the wilderness —after all, I am in no way athletic or outdoorsy — these preparatory hikes never feel foolish. They just are.

And anyway, what is wrong with foolish thinking? The more I contemplate a backpacking trip, the more reasonable it seems. Women’s hips are built for carrying weight. Women’s bodies (mine anyway) are built for storing up fat to prepare for extraordinary times. Odd to think that despite this, men hikers seem to outnumber women.

Although I have a few things going for me (woman’s physiology, determination, desire), my level of unfitness might be against me, but then, that’s what all this tramping around with a backpack is for. Either I will be better prepared to attempt a long hike, or I will have abandoned the whole idea long before I have to hike up a hill even steeper than the one I faced today.

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Posted in Adventure, life. Tags: contemplating a backpacking trip, foolish thinking, long trek in the wilderness, preparatory hike, woman’s physiology, women and backpacking, women are built for backpacking, women hikers. 8 Comments »

A Perfect Thing

February 11, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I used to think ours was a dystopian world, a world where the rich own us; the corporations control us; the alphabet agencies spy on us and perform experiments on us; and the government keeps us in perpetual wars so that we never see the truth of what is being done to us.

Well, I still think that’s true, but now I wonder if we are more like the way Dickens began A Tale of Two Cities: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

It’s possible we are living in the worst of times and living in the best of times. A dystopia for sure, but also a utopia. Our sphere of freedom might be narrowing, but within that narrow sphere, we can still find the freedom to be who we want to be, to think what we want to think, to dream what we want to dream and to try to make those dreams come true.

Notice I say we have the freedom to try to make our dreams come true. Not all things are possible. Sometimes we don’t have the money or the knowledge or the health or the courage or the willingness to sacrifice to make those dreams come true, but we do have the freedom to try.

My dream, the impossible dream that has me in its clutches, makes ours seem not such a dystopian world after all (as long as I stay away from political rants on Facebook, anyway).

Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail is not an impossible dream for many people — they have the strength, the money, the knowledge, the courage. For some, such as recent college graduates, it isn’t even much of a sacrifice because they don’t have spouses and children to leave behind.

In my case, even though I might have the time, the money (at least temporarily), and maybe even the courage, I have doubts about my fitness level even for a long section hike. To make the logistics work, I’d have to be able to hike at least ten miles a day carrying a pack, and I simply don’t know if that would ever be possible. And I don’t know if I have mental stamina. Last night before I fell asleep, a feeling of horror came over me. “You’re thinking of doing what?” I screeched to myself. “Are you out of your mind?”

Whether it’s an impossible utopian dream or a dystopian nightmare waiting to happen, a long saunter on the Pacific Crest Trail has truly captured my imagination.

The PCT is such a perfect thing in and of itself. As Danny DeVito said in Other People’s Money, “It don’t care whether I’m good or not. It don’t care whether I snore or not. It don’t care which God I pray to.” He was talking about money, of course (money and donuts were his two obsessions), but the trail doesn’t care. It doesn’t care who trods its soil, doesn’t care how fat you are, doesn’t care how slow you go, doesn’t care about anything at all. It just is.

Think of it. A viable walking path that extends all the way from Mexico to Canada. Isn’t that utterly amazing? The Appalachian Trail starts in Georgia, the Continental Divide Trail has not yet been completed, though experienced hikers do manage to find their way from top to bottom. But the Pacific Crest Trail is completed, and even neophytes can (and do) attempt to hike the whole thing. And we each, individually, own it. Or at least, we own the bit of land we happen to be standing on at any given moment. We own the dreams the trail engenders. We own the views we can claim. We own the experience of a wilderness that is still mostly pristine.

Sounds to me like utopia, a utopia that is available to anyone who wishes to escape the dystopia the media consistently foists on us.

Interestingly, in the past couple of days, I have found inspiration from two separate sources — and on Facebook of all places.

John Smith, a LASHer (Long A** Section Hiker) responded to my concerns about how PCT thru hikers treat those who don’t fit the usual mold of hikers. He wrote:

You are likely to find your ‘trail family’ out there but I have to be honest, you might not. Receive the gifts you find on the trail in those you meet, the sights you see, and the challenges you overcome. Add to the peace and joy of others as you connect with them and as you disconnect as well. In all that you do, on the trail or off, grow and stretch and grasp for the next life-altering experience. It will be challenging, hard, uplifting and at times tear you apart inside but as you close your eyes each night you can reflect on the growth of the day and the strength you can bring to the world around you.

I found those words so beautiful I asked permission to post them here, and luckily for all of us, John agreed.

The second thing that moved me is the image attached to this article, a gift from my dear and so very wise friend Nanna Murakami.

Whether I ever actually go backpacking on the Pacific Crest Trail seems unimportant right now. What is important is that I walk with love in my steps and receive the gifts that each of those steps bring.

There is more than a bit of utopia in that.

***

Posted in Adventure, life. Tags: dystopian nightmare, gifts of the trail, It don't care whether I'm good or not, Other People's Money, overcome the challenges of the trail, Pacific Crest Trail, Utopian dream, walk with love in our steps. 8 Comments »

Adventure? Or a Boring Walk in the Park?

February 10, 2018 — Pat Bertram

A friend commented the other day that the trails that call to her are the Grand Canyon and Bryce, and it struck me that although I’ve always lived within a two-day road trip from both, I’ve never been to either. So much to see!

I need more adventures.

If I can’t get fit enough to do a long backpacking trip, I can always drive to those legendary places, camp in a campground, and then do day hikes. (In the back of my mind, a little voice is telling me that the Grand Canyon is part of the Arizona National Scenic Trail. Does it sound like I’m obsessed with trails?)

In my favor, I am up to carrying twenty-six pounds for five miles, which means at the very least, I can do dispersed camping trips to get me into the back country.

That’s not bad. Maybe not a thru-hike, but it’s more than simply sitting and staring at a computer. And I have to admit, I do spend a lot of time on the computer, not just because of this blog, but also researching the trails and such.

During one such search, I found a discussion about the best way of preparing for a thru hike. A hiker suggested doing a lot of hiking, and at least one day a week, hike for nine hours. Not nine miles. Nine hours! I don’t want to do anything for nine hours. Not even read. Or sit at the computer. Or sleep, apparently, since I am now in the habit of waking several times during the night.

But this made me think — parts of the trail are dangerous if you aren’t paying attention, and who can possibly keep themselves focused for nine hours? Among the recent college graduates who make up the bulk of the trail population, there is a good bit of drinking and drugs, and there don’t seem to be a lot of folks falling off cliffs. So perhaps the trail isn’t as dangerous at all. Maybe it truly is a walk in the park.

A boring walk in the park. In my post “Pretending”, I mentioned that one of the reasons people quit the trail is boredom, and I wonder if it’s a more prevalent reason than people are willing to admit. I remember one woman a long time ago saying she got tired of staring at dirt, and that’s the truth of it. Unless you saunter, as I do, and stop every few minutes to look around, all you see is the ground in front of you. Even out in the desert near here, where the trails I walk are wide enough for off-road vehicles, one misstep could cause an injury. So I see a whole heck of a lot of dirt and sand.

But seeing dirt and sand is still seeing, right? And if all I see is dirt, it would still be nice to see dirt of different colors.

Yep. More adventures.

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Posted in Adventure, life. Tags: Arizona National Scenic Trail, I never saw the Grand Canyon, long backpacking trip, need more adventures, preparing for a backpacking trip, spending too much time on the computer, why hiking is boring. 6 Comments »

Washington Retrip

February 9, 2018 — Pat Bertram

I haven’t even taken my first trip to Washington, and I’m already considering a retrip later this year. There are parts of the Washington section of the Pacific Coast Trail that seem perfect for a fall saunter, and I’m not sure I want to wait another year to set foot on the trail. (Perfect because of weather. Perfect because of available water. Not having to carry as much water as in the desert would make a trek so much easier.)

By having to cut my trip short and come back before Memorial Day (I promised my dance teacher I’d try to be back to do a belly dance performance at the local college, the same place where I destroyed my arm), I will miss out on a second Washington backpacking trip. The original plan was a night or two in the wilderness to make sure it’s what I want to do, and then a longer trip the following week for a wilder adventure. It’s that second trip I still want to take, so if I head back to Washington in the fall, I will get another chance at a “supported” hike.

Presently, because I live not far from the trail, I could take a taxi to the nearest trailhead (assuming, of course, I could get a taxi to take me out that far) and then with no further ado, just start hiking. Not that I want to hike with anyone, but heading out like that on a backpacking trip seems sad. And lonely. (I have to laugh at myself sometimes — I talk about a 2,700 mile hike, and yet balk at a hike that barely makes a blip on the PCT map.)

On the other hand, if I take a train up to Washington, maybe my sister and brother-in-law would be willing to drive me to the trail and even walk a mile or so with me. And meet me at road junctions with food resupply boxes. And pick me up at the end or even in the middle if I have difficulties. (The scariest part of any long hike is the hitchhiking that seems so much a part of the culture. Eek.)

I’d still have plenty of time to do the King’s Canyon National Park trip with my friend who’d be flying in from Texas. We’d get together before or after Washington (since besides lots of trees, she wants to see snow covered mountains, after would make more sense, but either way would work). Which gives me two adventures to plan for! Well, three since I still haven’t taken my May trip.

I feel like such an armchair traveler, talking about things I’m not yet doing. I have to remind myself that I have done things — two months of day hikes in Northern California, a twelve-thousand-mile cross-country trip. But those things now seem long in the past, and one day, these trips (or the planning, anyway) will also be long in the past.

Meantime, there is today. I just got back from five miles in the desert (dripping wet, and not from rain but from the heat and carrying twenty-six pounds), so I better go eat or else I won’t have the strength to go anywhere.

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