Grateful to be Breathing Easily

May 15, 2014 — Pat Bertram

Today I am especially grateful that I can breathe easily.

Late last night, my father’s oxygen concentrator machine broke down, so I spent most of the night dealing with him and people from the oxygen company. While we waited for a callback, my father became so short of breath, he started going into a panic, so I dragged out the portable emergency canister. He said he’d rather not use the canister, and it’s just as well. Although I’d been told all I have to do is turn it on, no one told me how to turn it on or how to adjust the flow so I didn’t poison my father with too much oxygen.

When the on-call guy from the oxygen company called me, he tried to explain how to set up the portable oxygen canister. I got the oxygen turned on, only to discover the tank was empty, so I had to take the regulator off the empty canister and put it on a full one. Sometimes the littlest things make life difficult, and so it was last night. The reguSlator had a ridiculous hard plastic washer to keep the oxygen from leaking, but when I tried to screw on the regulator, the washer kept falling off. If I tilted the canister to lay the regulator over the “snake teeth” as he called the prongs that went into the holes toward the top of the canister, I couldn’t keep the phone propped on my shoulder to hear his instructions.

Finally, the on-call guy said he’d just come out and replace the concentrator machine. Shortly after I hung up the phone, I was able to put the regulator on the canister, but I had no idea how to adjust the flow. Well, now I do. The on-call guy showed me. Also left me a regulator with a washer that snaps into place. By the time he left and my father was sleeping peacefully, it was a bright 7 am. I tried to sleep for a bit, but I couldn’t help thinking that despite the complications of the night, supplemental oxygen is mostly a simple matter. I remembered tales and pictures of iron lungs from my youth, and felt grateful such machines were no longer needed.

Um, wrong. Out of curiosity, I Googled “iron lung” and discovered there are still polio victims living in iron lungs, have been for the past sixty years. I remember when I was young, how terrified I was of those hideous looking machines and even now the thought that some people were sentenced to a lifetime in such a contraption would have given me nightmares if I had been able to fall asleep. Oddly, the people who need to use the tanks because there is still no other way to force their diaphragms to work seemed to have good attitudes. Even that is unimaginable to me. But I suppose the alternative is even worse.

Breathing seems such a simple thing, so simple we mostly do it without even thinking. We draw in air, filter it through our lungs, and exhale the waste. And yet, even that natural act is beyond some people.

I hope you will take a deep breath with me and be grateful you can still perform such a simple, live-affirming action.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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.

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Cliché, Classic, Cheat, or Convention?

May 14, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I’ve been collecting mystery genre clichés to use in a whimsical mystery story. Some of the suggestions people have given me are true clichés — clues, characters, or plot devises that have been so overused they hold no surprise anymore. For example, “the butler did it.” The butler was such a ubiquitous character in older mysteries, and such an unobtrusive character, that the choice of the butler for villain was innovative the first time or two, but it quickly became clichéd. After the butler as villain became prevalent, there came a series of mysteries where the butler was the first suspect, but he was so obvious because evebutlerryone knew the butler usually did it, that he was quickly dismissed as a suspect, but the wily detective eventually discovered that it was, in truth, the butler. Then there were the mysteries where the butler became the detective. Now, of course, any use of a butler is clichéd, but it doesn’t matter because no one has a butler anyway. I suppose it would work if a character was named Butler. Hmmm. Might be a possibility for my mystery. Could be a fun gag if nothing else.

A convention is the way something is done. For example, in a mystery there must be a mystery, otherwise it wouldn’t be a mystery. There must be someone trying to unravel the mystery, and there must be clues, false trails, and various other common conventions that make up a mystery novel. And especially there must be a satisfying ending to tie up all the story threads. Just because these elements are in all mysteries, it doesn’t make them clichés. A cliché is something that has become so overused that it no longer holds any meaning or surprise, and the whole point of the mystery genre is meaningful and surprising revelations.

The mystery itself, or a specific type of ending could be clichéd, though. For example, the ending where a detective gathers all the suspects together has become a cliché, mostly because everyone today has at least a modicum of an idea of how the police really work, and the cops simply do not gather all the suspects together to unravel their case in public. Even amateur sleuths, such as the clichéd old lady who noses around because she thinks the police are bumbling idiots, don’t do such clichéd gatherings because they should be smart enough to know that’s how people get killed. And anyway, even if she does do a group unveiling, what difference does it make? Any unveiling of the killer or any confession wouldn’t hold up in court. (We did such a gathering for the end of Rubicon Ranch: Riley’s Story, a collaborative novel I wrote with several other authors, but what made it tolerable was my character’s derision of the whole idea.)

The only ending worse than the clichéd gathering is when the villain has the hero cornered, but spends so much time bragging about how he (or she) did it that the hero gets the upper hand. (Or vice versa — the hero has the villain cornered, but spends so much time congratulation himself that the villain gets away.)

Some clichés aren’t really clichés, but are more of a classic story element. For example, a locked room. Locked room mysteries are a subgenre of murder mysteries, and in fact, I will be using a locked room in my story. Locked rooms add a separate element to the mystery, because not only do you have to figure out who killed the victim and why, you also have to figure out how the heck they got into the locked room. And, of course, the locked room has to be an integral part of the story, otherwise it becomes a cheat with no other reason for being than to add cheap suspense. In my case, I can’t do anything but the locked room mystery. The mystery will revolve around a dance studio, and the only time the studio is unlocked is when people are there. It’s hard to commit a murder unseen in a crowd, though it has been done.

Occasionally clichés are cheats. Someone gets a letter from the victim or killer at the beginning of the story, the person puts the note in a pocket or desk drawer unread, but finds it at the end in time to keep the killer from killing again. It’s a cheat because if the fool had read the letter at the beginning, there would be no story.

In a mystery, the main characters have to act to the best of their ability at all times. A woman who is told not to go some place where danger lurks, and she goes simply because she was told not to, is someone who is not acting to the best of her ability. Stupidity is not a plot ploy. It is a cheat.

So, there you have it, a brief primer on the differences between clichés, classics, cheats, and conventions.

**

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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.

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Let’s Play the Cliché Game!

May 13, 2014 — Pat Bertram

My exercise class suggested I write a book about them. One woman even volunteered to be the victim, though I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill her. She is lovely, charming, and utterly delightful. I wasn’t going to write the story since it seemed a good way to lose a lot of friends, but at the lunch the other day, I almost whacked one of my classmates with my exercise bag, and she deadpanned, “I’m not the one who volunteered to be the murder victim.” So I decided to write the book. I mean, how could I not use such a perfect line?

I’d like to do the book campy with exaggerated uses and sly mentions of mystery clichés. For instance, I could get a call from one of the women who says she has information, but won’t give it to me over the phone. I immediately rush over there, of course, since such a call is a precursor to being murdered in cheap mysteries, but when I get there I find . . . I don’t know. Something innocuous. That the cell phone battery went dead. (Or better yet, I call the cops, and they think I’m hysterical.) Then there’s the “Don’t Go There” ploy, advice that a character ignores. When she does Go There, she almost gets herself killed. (Someone suggested this should be a buxom blonde, and of course, I know the perfect person for the role — a lady in red who is a buxom blonde or rather a buxom sometimes-blonde, and she definitely would Go There.) Of course I would also mention the old fictional women from small towns who stumble on so many murders, there couldn’t possibly be anyone left alive in the vicinity. Perhaps even use the alcoholic, donut-eating cop, misogynous cop.

I’m going to start out writing the book the way the idea unfolded in real life, beginning with the suggestion of my writing the book, our planning the murder, etc. leading up to the day we go to class and find her dead for real. The victim is such a good sport, she let me take a photo of her being dead to use for the book cover. (She sank to the ground gracefully, and fell into the perfect pose. Hmm. Maybe she is an eminently suitable victim after all. In the mystery world, she would be too good to be true.)

For now, I’m collecting clichés to use in the book. What do you think are the top clichés in mystery/suspense/thriller fiction? Who are the stock characters? What clichés and other mystery genre conventions do you absolutely hate?

But be careful! You might just end up in the book.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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 fiction, writing. Tags: , , , , , , . 9 Comments »

The One / Three / Five / Seven / Ten / Fifty Exercises You Should Never Do

May 12, 2014 — Pat Bertram

A couple of weeks ago, I came across an article entitled, “The One Exercise You Should Never Do.” The never-do was one of those machine exercises that strengthens and bulks up your quadriceps without also strengthening the hamstrings. I didn’t pay attention to the exercise since I never do it and never would do it, so I have only a vague idea of what the exercise is (seated knee extensions, I think). The reason for not doing the exercise interested me, however: not only does the machine put an unnatural strain on the knees, if you build-up the quadriceps without also building up the hamstrings, the powerful muscles in front of the thighs pull at the knees in an unnatural manner.

I wanted to read that article again because I referenced the unnatural weight issue in my Planning Sponteneity post, but I couldn’t find the citation. Instead, I found a whole slew of articles telling me what exercises to do and what not to do — The One Exercise You Should Never Do. The Three Exercises You Should Never Do. The Five Exercises You Should Never Do. The Five Exercises You Should Always Do. The Seven Exercises You Should Never Do. The Ten Exercises You Should Never Do. The Fifty Exercises You Should Never Do. Yikes. What a morass!

One article said to never do Smith Machine Squats, whatever those are. It also listed five must do weight-training exercises: lunges, pull-ups, planks, squats, and burpees. For you uninitiated, “burpees” does not refer to a seed company, but is an exercise you probably know as “squat thrusts.” Despite the endorsemennapt in this article for burpees, other articles say that burpees are the one exercise you should never do.

Some say never do squats, or rather deep squats. Some say never do crunches, some say crunches are a great exercise. Some say never jog, others say to jog. Some say never jump on concrete. (No one, of course, disagrees. Jumping on concrete is a great way of destroying your knees.) Some say seated exercise is the best way of protecting your back, knees, etc. Others say we sit enough and don’t need to do any more sitting. Some say don’t use light dumbbells. Some say never use a Smith machine, others suggest various exercises such as Smith Machine Squats. Some say never do overhead triceps extensions with dumbbells, others recommend doing them. Some say never do clean and jerk, others recommend doing them. Some say don’t ever do bridges, others say do them. Some say don’t do the dead lift because it’s too hard on your back, others say to do it. Others say to eschew working out at a moderate pace for long periods of time.

It seems to me that the exercises to never do are those you don’t like doing. If you don’t like doing them, there’s probably a reason, perhaps they hurt or are they are beyond your ability or strength. And the exercises to do are the ones you will do.

So, where do I fit in all these must-dos/never-dos? Of the first five must-do exercises, the only one I do is the plank: a pose similar to the beginning of a push-up, only you balance on your toes and forearms (or knees and forearms, which is all I can do) for a certain number of counts. It’s also simple and safe, though I can’t attest to its effectiveness. I just do it. As for squats — I can barely do a grande plié, which is sort of a squat without weights. And the only thing close to a lunge I do is a yoga warrior pose, again without weights. And I don’t even want to talk about burpees. I hated doing them in gym class when I was a kid, so even if I could do them (which I can’t) I wouldn’t. I could probably do a pull up if I lost three fourths of my body weight, but maybe not since I’d be too emaciated to do anything, not even pull myself up out of bed.

As for the rest, I use light dumbbells — eleven pounds each for a total of 22 pounds (but only because I’m too lazy to set up my barbells, which would be heavier. Jeff always did that and now somehow I just can’t find the will to do it for myself). Using light weights with many repetitions builds strength, where heavy weights with few repetitions build bulk, or at least that’s what I’ve read. I generally walk at a moderate pace because that way I can walk longer with no pain. And yes, moderate walking burns fat without eating muscle. (Ever wonder why there are no bulky long distance runners?)

All this talk of exercise has worn me out. I think I’ll go take a nap.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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 culture, history/myth, life. Tags: , , , , , . 5 Comments »

All is Well, Safely Rest

May 11, 2014 — Pat Bertram

The story of “Taps” might seem a bit of a stretch for Mother’s Day, but my mother has been gone for six and a half years now, so death is on my mind today.

Apparently, there are all sorts of myths circulating about this touching bugle call. One such story claims that in the middle of a battle near Harrison’s Landing in Virginia, a Union officer found a dying soldier and dragged him back to camp. When he lit a lamp, he saw that the man was a confederate soldier, and that he was dead. He turnedtaps the man over and drew in an agonized breath. The soldier was his son. The boy was supposed to be studying music, not fighting for any army, let alone the confederate army.

The heartbroken father wanted to give his son a full military funeral. His request was granted, but since the son was an enemy soldier, he was only allowed a single musical instrument. The father chose a bugle, and he asked the bugler to play the few notes he’d found in his son’s pocket.

The truth is a bit more prosaic. Taps is a revision of an older bugle call, “Scott’s Tattoo,” first published in 1835. In 1862, Gen. Daniel Butterfield worked with his bugler, Private Oliver Willcox Norton, to rearrange the tattoo, lengthening some notes, shortening others. When the new call met with Butterfield’s satisfaction, the General ordered “Taps” to be sounded at night in place of the traditional French tune “Light’s Out” they’d been using. When buglers from neighboring brigades heard the call, they visited Norton and asked for copies of the music. Within months, both Northern and Southern forces were sounding “Taps” at the end of the day.

There are no official words to the music, but these are the ones most of us know:

Day is done, gone the sun,
From the hills, from the lake,
From the sky.
All is well, safely rest,
God is nigh.

All is well, Mother. Safely rest.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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 culture, history/myth. Tags: , , , , . 1 Comment »

Planning Sponteneity

May 10, 2014 — Pat Bertram

It seems silly at times to spend so much effort in figuring out the future when the future often takes care of itself, and yet I would like to live a more spontaneous life than I’ve done so far, and that takes planning.

For example, I would like to set off on an adventure in an effort to live spontaneously, just go where the wind blows (or, considering how much I dislike wind, go where the wind doesn’t blow), but whether I am on foot or in a car, I will need to be prepared in case my adventure takes a disastrous turn. And even if there is no major disaster, just minor calamities like blisters, such mishaps could take some of the spontaneity and all of the fun out of an adventure.

There are many things I cannot know — or plan — until I am free of my current responsibilities looking out for my 97-year-old father. It could be that my father outlives me. It could be that I would want to hang out in this town for a while longer, especially if I weren’t ready to leave my friends and my various activities. It could be I would want to do a more structured adventure to begin with, such as a women’s wilderness adventure. It could be I would want to — or need to — take a car trip first to get used to living an unsettled life, then gradually work up to a walking trip. It could be that I won’t bemind physically capable of walking for miles on end. It could be that that after all these months — and eventually, perhaps, years — of planning, I decide to quit after a day or two.

For now, thinking about an epic walk is like working a puzzle. What would I do with my glasses at night? What would I need at bare minimum? How would I carry those necessities? What would I wear?

I carried a five-pound weight in a backpack on one of my local walks, thinking it would be a good way to get acclimated to carrying extra weight. I didn’t expect any problem at all — five pounds is not much, and I’d recently lost at least that much weight. After three miles, however, my buttocks hurt and so did the tops of my feet. I still don’t understand why there would have been any noticeable difference, unless it is where I carried the weight. The five pounds was on my mid-to-lower back, but when you carry an extra five pounds of body weight, that weight is distributed throughout your body, so no one muscle would feel the effects. I’ve been wondering if a belly pack would offset some of the weight of a backpack, giving a better distribution of the weight, but my online researches have turned up no answer. I do know that if you develop your quad muscles at the expense of your hamstrings, you can end up with knee problems, so it’s possible the same sort of physiology would hold true when carrying weight. I suppose one of these days I’ll have to get both a pack and a belly pack and see how it goes.

Speaking of backpacks, many of them weigh four to five pounds. Yikes! That’s close to the maximum of what I want to carry. If I do get a pack, I’ll be checking the weight. And size. I always thought you just saw one you liked at the price you liked and bought it. Apparently not.

Then there’s the matter of clothing. Experienced hikers say not to wear cotton, to wear fast drying wicking fabrics, especially for garments that hug the skin, like socks. One woman went so far as to say that anyone who wore cotton socks even for walking short distances was an idiot. Apparently cotton keeps the feet wet, provides no warmth, and causes blisters, while wicking fabrics “wick” the moisture away from the skin and keep the feet dry. My problem is that synthetic fabrics make my skin sweat, so perhaps my skin would be warm and dry, but I’d be walking in a swamp. This past winter I got some wicking ear warmers. I never knew ears could sweat so much! So now I’m back to using silk scarves to tie around my ears for protection. I’ll have to look into silk sock liners. Or alpaca socks. I never even knew there were such things.

The more I try to figure out the logistics of such a trip, the more I want to scrap all my plans. Just take off. Nothing but me, some random clothing, and whatever I can fit into my pockets. Now that’s a plan for spontaneity!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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.

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Preparing for My Next Adventure

May 9, 2014 — Pat Bertram

I got an email from NRA’s Woman’s Programs, telling me about a planned wilderness escape. The attendees would learn to shoot smallbore rifle silhouette, scoped/tactical carbine, long range high power rifle, conventional and tactical pistol, historic firearms and shotgun (five-stand), and archery. Other activities included in the program are bow hunting, a mock hunt, and survival training.

campingAlthough I enjoyed the day I spent learning about gun safety and shooting various weapons at the local gun club (I thought someone who has killed as many people in books as I have should know how to shoot), I can’t imagine being steeped in gun culture for eight days. Nor am I certain I’d be willing to pay $1800 for the privilege. Still, the idea does tug at me, as do all things I’ve never done before. If nothing else, the shooting complex would be an interesting setting for a murder, and I could chalk up the week to research.

One thing in the invitation especially caught my attention: Whether you are a novice or a seasoned outdoor enthusiast, it’s an experience that will prepare you for your next adventure!

Do they know about the adventure I’m considering, walking up the Pacific coast? Oh, my, I sure hope I won’t need to know how to shoot for that expedition. Guns are heavy! I tend to take as little as possible, probably way too little (though not as little as The Peace Pilgrim who carried only a pen, comb, map, toothbrush, and the clothes on her back). I’m not planning on walking for peace, exactly, but am aiming for a peaceful walk. Not only would a gun overload my pack, it would make me nervous, as if it were calling out to be used. (Can you feel my shudders?) So not the spirit of peace!

Still, I would take pepper spray or bear spray or some other sort of unfriendly creature spray, and I figure as long as I remember to point it away from me, that’s all the expertise I’d need.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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.

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Merry, Merry, Quite Contrary

May 8, 2014 — Pat Bertram

A friend recently accused me of being contrary, said that I had an incontrovertible tendency to go in the opposite direction of whatever anyone requests of me. The friend seemed to think I didn’t know I had such a fault, which is true. I didn’t. (Except for when I feel taken for granted or discounted. Then, yes, I do dig in my heels.)

I took an informal poll of other friends, and it seems as if most people thought I was too accommodating, that I tended to be too conciliatory. I accept my brother’s nastiness, I do what people ask whenever possible, and if in my power, I will do what I can to make people happy. (Yeah, I know — you can never make anyone happy, but still, you can go out of your way too keep from adding to their misery.)

Contrary mechainans “perversely inclined to disagree or to do the opposite of what is expected or desired.” By that definition, contrariness seems to go hand-in-hand with obligation, as if I have an obligation to do what people request of me or expect of me. If there is no obligation, there can be no contrariness, perverse or otherwise, because if I do what I want to do rather than what other people want me to do, I am going in the direction I want to go.

I admit I am contrary when it comes to ideas. I don’t accept ideas just because most other people do. I tend to be a bit of a skeptic, taking the known with a strong dose of curiosity and questioning. I’m not particularly an out-of-the-box thinker since out-of-the-boxness implies more of an imagination than I have, but so often I am not even aware of the box.

I write books that are contrary to genre expectations (for example, my good guy and bad guy never duke it out at the end).

I’ve also lived a contrary life, not embracing the consumerism of our society, not following fashion, not watching television programming (though I do watch taped movies via a television). My plans/hopes/ideas for the future all go contrary to what is normally expected of a no-longer-young woman on her own.

I even go contrary to myself at times — trying things that are out of character, or doing things I am afraid of doing. I try to say yes to any invitation even if I am not so inclined in an effort to continue going contrary to my nature.

Although I started out this post trying to prove how uncontrary I am, I have to agree with the friend who thinks I am contrary. I do, however, disagree with the judgment that my contrariness is a fault. Seems like a necessary attribute to embrace if one wants to merrily go along, living a life of beauty and folly no matter what anyone else expects or desires.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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 being me, culture. Tags: , , , , . 10 Comments »

Why We Read Blogs

May 7, 2014 — Pat Bertram

At lunch with friends today, one woman said she was computer literate, but admitted she didn’t understand why anyone would read my blog, or any blog, actually. Another friend said she read my blog because it was interesting. I was glad she supplied a response because my mind had gone blank — why would anyone read my blog?

People unfamiliar with blogging often equate these web logs — these online journals — with the diaries many of us kept as children. “I had oatmeal for breakfast. I went to school. Bobby pulled my hair. I did my homework then Mom let me watch television.” Deadly dull lists of activities no one, including us, ever cared about. Admittedly, many bloggers do relate the minutiae of their day, but mostly people talk about what is important to them.

One online friend, a woman who lost her soul mate a month before I lost mine, started a blog to chronicle her new life. She’s about to become a nomad, living and traveling in a small motor home. Among other things, she will be searching for a new life, a new place, maybe even happiness. Her blog tells of her preparations, and once she’s on the road, that blog will tell of her adventures.

Many online author friends blog about their available books, their publishing experiences, the books they read and review, the stories they are writing.

People with expertise in various fields give advice. Literary agents tell authors how to get published, hikers tell about their experiences in the wilderness, mothers give advice or seek support with raising children, businesses blog about their products, crafty folk share patterns and photos of finished projects, techno-types discuss the newest technology.

And me . . . I write about myself — my ideas, my hopes, my experiences, what I’ve learned from those experiences — and anything that captures the attention of my magpie mind. I write this blog because . . . well, because I am a writer. Nothing seems real to me until I’ve put it into words, though I am learning to be in the moment, to be alive without needing to explain to myself what I am feeling.

Until the past few months, most people who read this blog have been online friends or strangers, which was — is — wonderful, but now people I know in real life are also reading this blog. There is a quiet joy in being told, “I read your blog last night.”

Of course, that’s more about why I write this blog than why people read it. I’d planned to talk about how important stories are, how stories connect us, how the life stories people choose to share with us show us our similarities. I’d planned to say we read blogs for the same reason we read fiction — to live and learn and grow vicariously. Not all of us might be able to live on the road, for example, yet we can all share in the struggles and triumphs of those who do. In the end, I decided not to focus on the storytelling aspect of blogging. The truth is much simpler than that. As my friend said, we read a particular blog because it’s interesting.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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 blogging, internet, writing. Tags: , , , , . 8 Comments »

Pacific Crest or Pacific Coast

May 6, 2014 — Pat Bertram

When I first blogged about going on an epic adventure, I mentioned the Pacific Crest Trail, but I have since discounted the PCT for two reasons. The first reason is silly, but still real. Whenever I’ve mentioned the PCT, people invariable tell me about Cheryl Strayed, and I want my own adventure, not a poor imitation of someone else’s. If I really wanted to hike the PCT, being forever overshadowed might not be a consideration, but the truth is, the PCT isn’t a walk in the park, and I like walks in the park. Or any sort of walk. What I’ve recently discovered is that I’m not fond of hiking.

WheLow tiden you walk, you are light and free, just swinging along, your body in perfect rhythm with its surroundings.

When you hike, you have to pick your way along often uneven terrain, sometimes on narrow trails that are eroded in spots, sometimes on logs that pass for bridges over shallow ravines or waterways. That would be bad enough, but generally you are also carrying a heavy pack (even a light pack — under twenty pounds — is heavy for one who is used to walking unencumbered). When you thru-hike the PCT, you have weather considerations and seasonal changes, such as winter, so you are on a stringent schedule. An ice axe is recommended and in many areas a bear canister is required. (An ice axe is to help you self-arrest if you start sliding down a snow-packed slope, which presupposes you have the strength to hang on, which I don’t. A bear canister is for protecting your food in bear country.) And this year, so I have heard, PCT hikers have been chased by killer bees and are having to deal with detours due to certain parts of the trail being burned out. Eek. So not my idea of a fun outing!

What I’m considering instead is walking along the coastline. Although there is no Pacific coast trail, all three Pacific states are in the process of creating one, mostly by connecting existing multiuse trails, bike paths, and boardwalks. Although the coast walk is partly urban, it also incorporates wilderness and desolate areas. And one 50-mile stretch goes along the shoulder of a highway. I suppose in a way a coastal walk would be even worse than hiking the PCT because not only would you have the possibility of meeting untamed creatures of the wild, you’d also risk meeting untamed creatures of the city, such as feral dogs and brutal humans. (Sounds to me as if I need to add pepper spray to my list of necessities.)

Walking such a variety of terrains is different from hiking in the wilderness. In the wilderness, making a pitstop is as easy as stepping behind the nearest bush, but such freedom does not exist on public beaches. In the wilderness, you can pitch a tent almost anywhere there is room, but on the coast you’re more apt to find yourself stealth camping — camping in undeveloped areas — if there’s no official campsite. However, there is a lot more activity along the coast than the crest, especially in beach areas, so food and water might be more accessible.

By definition, a coast walk includes water. Not potable water, but salt water, and a salt water soak is good for aching feet.

So when/if it comes to a choice between coast or crest, I’ll opt for coast.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of the suspense novels 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.

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