HOPES AND DREAMS

This Trail hike and its preparations seem so huge.... sometimes I wonder if it's the right thing. We will be hard-pressed for the 5-6 months I don't work. Sometimes I wonder if.... well, if I have the right.

But then things happen. Like a couple Sundays ago when, in church, I got a nice ditty bag and EARPLUGS.

Today something came from church, too. Nothing material. Just a reminder that I have the right to realize my hopes and dreams.

The church is Lutheran, with a strong Southern Gospel flavor. It's the most amazing hybrid and I love it!! Hand-clapping, dancing, arm-raising, hallelujah, then WHOOSH.... we're back through some kind of demographic warp to the Lutheran liturgy again. I am the only white person in the congregation unless there are guests. No one seems to notice.

Anyway, in the Lutheran Communion service there's a prayer sung after collection of the offering, that goes like this:

"Let the vineyards be fruitful, Lord,
And fill to the brim our cup of blessing.
Gather a harvest from the seeds that were sown
That we may be fed with the Bread of Life.
Gather the hopes and the dreams of all,
Unite them with the prayers we offer now.
Grace our table with Your presence,
And give us a foretaste of the feast to come."

It was the collection plate held up in offering with the words, "Gather the hopes and the dreams of all, unite them with the prayers we offer now," that struck me today. This Trail hike has been a hope and dream of mine for 42 years. I feel it was included in the "hopes and dreams of all" that were offered and united with the prayers we offered.

This is not our home. We are visitors to this Earth, we're here for but a short while. While here, there are things we want to do, things we want to see. When someone is visiting with us, or when we're visiting with someone, we want to help them do and see what they hope to, while they're with us. I think it may be the same way with God, the Host of our visit to earth. He wants us to experience the pleasures of the trip and to be able to do the things that are of interest to us. He's a good Host.

THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING.....

Steve told someone at the campground this evening, "We leave three weeks from tomorrow."



We leave for GEORGIA three weeks from tomorrow.



We leave for Georgia three weeks from tomorrow.



Can it be?????



I've got all my food done; now I just have to line up 24 bags and drop one of everything in. Oh, and add the broccoli to my Turkey Tetrazzini, after Fiberjoy finishes it up for me :-) Honest, she read my blog post about being able to find lots of okra but not much broccoli, and she bought me 5 pounds and is dehydrating it. And we've never met!!



Another friend I've never met is sending me a down sleeping bag. Mailed it yesterday.



People are talking to me as if I'm going to walk to Maine.



Am I actually going to walk to Maine? Of the 2,000 or so hopefuls who start each year with that intent, only about one in ten make it. There's a 20% dropout rate in the first 30 miles (mostly people who start with a 60-pound backpack expecting a smooth, groomed path.)



There are things you do without, in order to keep your backpack to 1/4 of your weight (that is, 1/4 of your ideal, not necessarily current, weight.) Like changes of clothes. You have some but it's for changing weather conditions, not to have clean clothes. You don't get clean clothes until you wash your hiking clothes in a laundromat in town while wearing your rain jacket and pants.



I saw a guy on the trail last spring wearing a shirt that said, "Same shirt. Different day."



I'm wearing my Keystone Vermont City Marathon shirt. It'll remind me to hang in there. That was probably my worst-ever marathon in terms of sticking with it. But I got a nice shirt :-)

Going to bed now. Resting my darn tendons. If I have to hike with tape on my tendons, I will hike with tape on my tendons. I will not let my AT keep me off the AT.

NEGLIGENT- JUST BUSY

Honest, I'm still here.



Honest, I'm still making preparations to start hiking the Appalachian Trail, April 1, 4 weeks from yesterday.



I'm up to my ears in bags of dehdrated food. Organization is a challenge, considering we live in a 300 sq-foot RV with nowhere to spread stuff out except the table, sofa and bed.

24 servings (one a week) each of:



Chili (with dried ground beef, beans, dried tomatoes and tomato sauce, seasonings)

Turkey Rice Tetrazzini (dried ground turkey, instant brown rice, broccoli that Fiberjoy is drying for me, isn't she unbelievable?, seasonings)

Corn chowder (instant mashed potatoes, dried corn, powdered milk, dried onions, seasonings)

Ham/Potato Casserole (Packaged scalloped potatoes, individual-serving-packs Spam, green beans)

Lentil Soup (Lentils, dehydrated carrots, dried onions, dried tomato sauce, seasonings)

Red Beans and Rice (as implied, plus ham soup base and seasonings)

Split Pea Soup (Split peas, packaged instant mashed potatoes, dehydrated carrots, seasonings)



That's 6 suppers per week. The 7th day (or whenever I hit town) I'll eat Real Food in town. Probably from the McDonald's $1 menu but it won't be dehydrated. A bonanza will be an AYCE buffet.... AYCE meaning "All You Can Eat" like Shoney's, which happens here and there on the Trail.

Lunches: tricky, since I don't eat much wheat to save digging cat holes. I figure on trail mix, beef jerky, peanut butter out of the jar, dried fruit, PayDay candy bars. Snickers bars are traditional on the Trail, but PayDay has more protein, isn't as sick-sweet, and doesn't melt.

Breakfasts: Oatmeal is the standard. I like granola, but often it contains wheat. I could also cook exra rice with dinner and save it for breakfast, add powdered milk and sugar and a handful of raisins, maybe a sprinkle of cinnamon, and have something resembling rice pudding.

I've spent the evening with various combinations of clothing and 2 sleeping bags determining the warmest arrangement. I have a 20*F synthetic youth-size mummy bag, given to me by someone who no longer needed it. Yes, the youth bag is plenty large enough for this little old lady. If I encounter a cold snap in April in the mountains, I'll start adding layers of clothes:



Running tights + fleece top

Sweater-knit tights + acrylic cardigan

Rain pants + rain jacket

+ Sleeping bag with nylon liner



Even if it's cold enough that I'm not toasty warm with that arrangement, at least I won't freeze to death. I slept out in this bag in Winchester, VA to 24*. I won't say I was cozy but again I wasn't in danger of freezing. And I didn't have all those clothes on.

I've got a Therma-Rest Women's Pro-Lite 3 sleeping pad.
And a square of closed-cell foam from Wal-Mart to give additional cushioning under my hips.

I've got a little bag with emergency fix-its: first aid and gear-mending.
I've got another little bag (that I got in church) for toiletries and bedtime needs (including the earplugs that came in the bag when I got it in church.)

I've got a JetBoil stove given to me as a surprise by my good friend Carlene from Ontario. It boils a pint of water in 2 minutes (faster than a microwave) and/or simmers until the Betty Crocker scalloped potatoes are done.

I've got mid-weight and warm-weight clothing (as described above) mostly scored from Goodwill and the Salvation Army but also including my Road Runner Sports running tights and a nice fleece top from my friend Sally, who's hiking with me to the halfway point (assuming either of us old ladies makes it that far.)

I've got 3 pairs of SmartWool hiking socks and a pair of NorthFace gaiters to keep stickers and gravel out of my shoes. These were all sold to me for less than the retail of 2 pairs of the socks by a member of the Women Hikers Yahoogroup.

I've got Marmot Precip rainwear.

I've got a one-person Eureka! tent that Steve got for a bicycle trip about 7 years ago. Still good.

I've got my Go-Lite Women's Quest backpack.... trying to fit everything into it.

I've got my Achilles tendons taped. Yes.... they're bothering me again. They seemed good, I'd hiked as much as 11 miles carrying 20 pounds, then one day about 10 days ago I decided to jog a smooth easy mile (jogging was OK'd by my physical therapist, up to 5 miles/week in addition to hiking) and they've been sore since then. I alternate between panicking and shrugging. Shucks, I've had Achilles tendonitis for years. At worst I've taken a week or two off and then continued marathon or Ironman training. Crap on it. I've got 'em taped to limit motion. I'm taking ibuprofen to decrease inflammation. I'm stretching my calves (not the tendons.) I'm icing. I'm continuing to plan. I've got a month. I've been here before.... a month out from whatever and my tendons ailing. Crap on it. I'll hike with a lift in my shoes and tape on my legs if I have to. I'll hike till I can't walk. I'm going. This is a setback. This is a scare. This is a test. Everything is ready to go. I'm going. People hike the Trail with knee braces; I'll hike it with Achilles support. That's why God made hiking poles, to take the weight off. I'm going.

ADVENTURE READING

Here's a National Geographic Adventure magazine list of the 100 Greatest Adventure Books of All Time.

I feel really educated and worldly because I've actually read two of them:
Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer (#9 on the list!) about a fatal climb of Mt. Everest and the factors contributing to the disaster.
The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger about the loss of Gloucester swordfishing boat Andrea Gail in the north Atlantic triple-storm of 1991.

I would like to nominate two others:
Miles from Nowhere by Barbara Savage. A young woman's account of her 2-year journey with her husband, around the world on bicycles. One of my favorite reads ever. The author, however, never got to see it in print. As the book was going to press, Barbara was killed in a cycling accident while training for a triathlon. This information is provided in the text on the back of the book, so I'm not giving away anything.

Between a Rock and a Hard Place by Aron Ralston. Utah climber's harrowing story of being imprisoned in a canyon for 6 days, his arm pinned by a rock to a canyon wall, and his hair-raising account of how he finally freed himself. I remember hearing about that one on the news when it happened.

And my favorite account of an Appalachian Trail thru-hike by a woman:
Walking Home by Kelly Winters. She describes in dreamy, poetic prose the life trauma and confusion that led to her hike, and her journey to finding herself on the way to Maine.

Anyone care to cast a vote on their favorite true adventure book?

TRAIL GEAR FROM AN UNLIKELY PLACE

I'll tell you what, I never expected to get trail gear at church.

Sunday was the day after Valentine's Day. The pastor made mention of love and gifts and flowers and such, and then at the end of the service surprised us (or maybe just me) by saying that they had gifts for the ladies. (Don't men get Valentine's gifts?)

Anyway, they handed all the ladies these nice little drawstring pouches made of a sturdy sheer red nylon fabric. Always alert to such things, I thought, "Ditty bag! I could use that for toiletries in my backpack!" (I'm not taking, like, a full makeup kit or anything, but toothbrush, contact solution, antiperspirant, a few things like that.)




It's even the same color as my backpack.



I saw that it had candy and a couple other things in it. I waited till I got home to look at the loot. I gave Steve the chocolate and kept the peppermints. Then looked at the rest of it.

Someone must have been collecting hotel freebies, 'cuz there were things in Crowne Plaza packages. There was a black satin eyecover (or maybe that was for Valentine's hanky-panky) and, of all things..... a pair of ear plugs!!!!

Now, if you don't know the Appalachian Trail and its shelters, let me tell you ear plugs are pretty much essential. Most of the time I'll be sleeping in my tent, but if the weather is really bad, I'll stay in a shelter. These are 3-sided lean-to's where everyone just sleeps side-by-side on the floor. Men outnumber women (as in just about any endurance athletic sport) and men snore. So anyone planning to use shelters at all generally packs a pair of ear plugs. And then there are other night sounds..... one hiker counted a whip-poor-will's reps of its piercing call at 180 before it stopped for breath. Personally I'm anxious to hear whip-poor-wills but at close range it could get tiresome, I guess.

I got a neat little drawstring ditty bag and EARPLUGS in church!! Is this God's nod of approval for my hiking plans?

Next there was a little spray bottle of something, and I said to Steve, "What's this? Bear repellent?" But it was linen spray. I won't take that.... bears like sweet-smelling stuff.

Never expected to get cool trail gear at church. Gotta wonder about that. Again.... was it a sign?

Miss Rachel thinks I'm fabulous! She said so, and nominated me to her list of Fabulous Bloggers. Here's what you have to do once awarded: first, list 5 things you're "addicted" to, then bestow the honor on five of your favorite bloggers.

Blogger won't let me upload a picture right now. Blogger doesn't think I'm fabulous :-(

Anyway, 5 things I'm addicted to:

1. Email. That's one reason I don't blog more. I'm "only" on I think 7 lists, but they take time. I don't know why I stick with some of them. They're not that important to me. That makes this a lesson in choosing what's important: email lists that aren't important, or a blog that is the chronicle of my life? Seems like a no-brainer, so why is it so hard to sign off the lists? There's one list of close women friends I'd never leave. And there's Women Hikers. And Appalachian Trail Hikers. And Preserving Foods, where I learn a lot about dehydrating. Then there's an Atkins Diet list, which I should sign off since I'm not following it anymore; a Diet Survivors list, where you do introspection to learn how your eating habits and metabolism have been screwed up by dieting.


2. Food. Sweets. Sugar. Which is why I tried Atkins, why I can't follow it, why I'm on the Diet Survivors list. I just want to quit worrying about food and eating.


3. Introspection. My husband says my life would be a whole lot simpler if I didn't think so much. I can't help it. I always think of the repercussions of every action and reaction, worry that I've offended someone, worry that if I'd done differently then XYZ would or wouldn't have happened, think about what-if.... I drive myself nuts.


4. I liked that Miss Rachel is addicted to mascara. I should be, too. I haven't worn makeup in ages, I who, say, 5-7 years ago, would rather have gone without my blouse than without my eye makeup. I heard a presumably Southern saying once: "If you're ever in a situation -- and I can't imagine what that situation might be -- where you have to choose between wearing ONLY your underpants or ONLY your mascara, choose the mascara." I've been going around looking like a drone.


5. In the same vein.... lip balm. Or lip gloss. Or vaseline. I have to have something on my lips or I go crazy with discomfort. I've heard all that stuff is addictive b/c it sucks moisture out of your lips making you need the stuff even more. But you can bet I'll be taking lip gloss on the Trail. If anyone wants to send me a care package, be sure to include lip balm, especially some that has a little shine to it, but if no shine, then plain old Chapstick will do fine. I can't live without it.

Now, who to tag. That may have to wait.... I've been so hung up on email that I haven't read my friends' blogs, so I don't know who's already been tagged. Stay tuned. I will tag some. I have to find them first!

NOVELTIES

Talk about MacGyvering. I guess someone's fishing rod broke (must have been a big one!) and they took the end of the broken rod and jammed it onto a stick to keep on fishing.

This is just one of the things I saw today while hiking 4 hours -- about 11 or 12 miles -- in New Orleans along Lake Ponchartain. With a 20# pack. I'm working up to longer days and a 30# pack. Seven-and-a-half weeks to go.

So I hike alongside the streets with this pack that extends from my head to my butt, and a hiking stick, and odd clothes, and no one gives me a second glance. Maybe I'm so weird no one wants to mess with me.

One man did ask me, "Are you a camper?" I told him, "I'm getting ready to hike the Appalachian Trail." "Oh," he said. "Where's that at?"

Other amazing sights today:

The hillside of a levee all covered with white clover blossoms, which, as a Northerner, I associate with summertime. Their subtle, delicate fragrance glistened in the air and made me feel the peace and freedom of childhood summers.

A whole flock of snowy egrets flying inland from the lake to a grassy park.

A little boy tossing a net over a bridge fishing for mullet.

Funny stuff:

A bright golden-yellow port-a-pot called "Pot O' Gold."

Gross stuff:

Trash. Trash. Trash. I can't believe the trash around here. The usual beer cans and bottles, snuff cans, disposable diapers, McDonald's cups and bags, and various detritus still from Hurricane Katrina: bits of building material, PVC pipe pieces, shingles, sheets of styrofoam. And, oddly, a fair number of spent condoms and tampon tubes. Now.... how do these come to be roadside litter? Do people use these items while in their car and then toss them out the window, or what? Maybe they washed ashore in the hurricane, too.

The hurricane damage is still very much in evidence. Downed palm trees still lying along the lake. Homes boarded up and empty. In the residential area near our lakeside campground, I'd say that of every three houses, one is lived in, one is in the process of repair but still unliveable, and one is empty, trashed, and abandoned.

A family is staying at our campground having fled the recent ice storm in Arkansas. They lived on a mountain and the trees came crashing down on the house they'd just built and moved into 5 months earlier. They got some old junk RV and hit the road looking for work. Found some in New Orleans, cleaning up after the hurricane that was 3 years ago.

I've got a new injury. Carpal tunnel injury. I won't say "syndrome" because I don't think it's going to be a chronic thing; it's the result of pushing a lawn mower 6 hours a day for 2 days straight. My hands started to tingle and fall asleep after that, especially at night. I switched from mowing to digging but that wasn't enough rest.... woke up at night feeling like my hands were in hot water with dead fingers. I got one of those carpal tunnel splints at the drug store for the worst one, my left, and it's a miracle. The very first night it didn't wake me up at all, although the other hand was numb in the morning. They're both much better now, although I'm still wearing the splint on my left.

I said to Steve, "Geez, my feet, my teeth, a panic attack that I thought was a heart attack.... what's next???" He said, "This isn't anything, you can hike with one hand."

That's my man :-)

I WANNA BE THIS TOUGH

I found this yesterday while digging crabgrass out of the shrubbery beds in the campground.

Steve said, "So? The root grew through the stick."

I see one of nature's miracles of survival, a metaphor for my life.

URBAN FLATLAND HIKING

It's a challenge living in New Orleans and preparing for hiking the Appalachian Trail. There are no forests, no mountains, no hills.

At least not any natural ones. What I do is, I hike up and down the levees. Up one side, down the other, up, down, up, down, zigzagging the length of the levee. Here's one of them, with Journey at the bottom for scale:

I think I posted about climbing the levee before. I took our hand-held GPS and measured the distance from bottom to top (about 50 feet) and the elevation change (18 feet). This works out to a 36% grade. Fifty feet isn't very far, but to go 50 feet up, 50 feet down, up, down, up, down, enough times to make a mile.... next day I can tell I've done something.

After I've traversed the levee, I keep on walking alongside Lake Shore Drive, the lake being Lake Pontchartrain. Lake Shore Drive is very pretty; it's here that I find my "forests."

I should have a picture of the lake shore for you, but I don't. Next time!

I do occasionally have to ford a "creek," though, on my way home, if it's rained recently:

So I don't have any wilderness paths to follow, but I make do. I'm hiking 5 - 7 miles at a time, with a backpack. I started with 10 pounds of stuff in the pack and have worked up to 20. I'm aiming for hikes of 8 miles every other day with 30#. I'm still watching my Achilles tendons closely. Sometimes they feel a little sore but they're fine later on, and there's been no swelling. In fact, swollen knots that the podiatrist told me were scar tissue and would never go away..... hav gone away. One of my tendons (ironically, the one that was torn) is now completely smooth, and the other one nearly so.

I hope they stand up to day-after-day mountain-hiking with my home on my back. I start 8 weeks from tomorrow.

STILL TO DO....

Maybe I'll feel less-overwhelmed if I make a list. To make it tangible.

Here's a start. I'll probably add to it in the next two months.

1. Keep on drying foods. Finish carrots and cabbage, start broccoli.
2. Organize dried foods, pack into week's-worth bags, organize for mailing.
3. Make list of approximate mail-stops based on approximate hiking progress.
4. Clean out closet. Steve wants "my" side while he's home alone 'cause he doesn't have to crawl over the bed to reach it.
5. While cleaning closet, organize my stuff and throw out a lot.
6. Go over contents of backpack, re-organize.
7. Make list of weekly groceries for Steve to buy and send me.
8. Update immunizations for dog and cat so Steve won't have to worry about it.
9. Or forget that one and let him do it.
10. Buy headlamp.
11. Buy new battery for camera.
12. Buy second memory card for camera (so Steve and I can exchange full and empty ones.)
13. Go over contents of backpack, re-organize.
14. Sew loops onto Tyvek ground cloth so I can pitch it as a tarp if I want to.
15. Sew extra gear pockets into tent.
16. Re-waterproof rain gear and tent.
17. Re-seam seal tent.
18. Grow out hair to no-fuss ponytail. Stick it out thru in-between stage. Do not cut now.
19. Make sure enough family and friends are watching out for my mother.
20. Finish woodburning hiking poles with family/friends' signatures.
21. Get snail-mail addresses for postcards.
22. Shop for sample/travel size toiletries.
23. Order 6-months' supply of contacts.
24. Fill prescriptions.
25. Make sure all adult children are on birth control -- NO ONE is to have baby till Nov.
26. Arrange automatic bill-pay for my Achilles physical therapy.
27. Go over contents of backpack, re-organize.
28. Spazz over whether I have the right assortment of early-spring clothing.
29. Prepare box of stuff I'll need (or might need) Steve to send me later on: different shoes, warm-weather sleeping bag, warm-weather clothes, different or extra xyz's
30. Go over contents of backpack, re-organize.
31. Get traveler's checks. Also will carry some cash and bank card.
32. Go no-mail on my email groups. Give Steve access to groups so if I get killed by bear he can notify them.
33. Worry that I'm not ready.

That's a start. I'll add more if I think of more......

IN A SLUMP

I seem to be going through a few days of feeling unmotivated to do anything about my AT hike, now coming up in 9.5 weeks. I don't want to dry food, I don't want to plan my town stops, I don't want to go out and train (last week I put in four 7+ mile hikes up and down the New Orleans levees with a 15-pound pack.)

I just feel tired. Maybe I've been doing so much towards it and thinking about it so much and talking about it so much, I feel like I've already done it or something and just want to rest.

Maybe it's because I've run out of foods to dehydrate until I go shopping again. Maybe it's because I only have 2 months to get my food all done and finalize everything and I feel overwhelmed..... withdrawing is my common response to overwhelmed-ness.

I do have brown rice cooking on the stove. Cooked and dehydrated, it rehydrates nice and fluffy in 5 minutes in hot water. The soak-all-day method didn't work. I'm glad I tried it ahead of time.

Yesterday I spent all day reading a novel. I think I'll just chill one more day today, making a grocery list for tomorrow, and then start with the food again.

Tree in Time

Tree in Time
Originally uploaded by imagainst_the_wind

It's not about the Appalachian Trail.... but I was going through some of my photos and thought I'd post it. I've got so many photos, from so many places, and some of them are good.... I'm going to start to go public. So far it's the only one on my Flickr page, but I'm going to add more.

Why I started this now, when I've got so many AT preparations on my plate, is beyond me. But that's why they won't be coming thick and fast :-)

DRYING AND PLANNING

The push is on.

Each tray is 13 inches diameter. This is about 4 pounds of carrots and 3 pounds of cabbage, lightly precooked (to stop enzyme action that could cause spoilage even in fully-dried food) and ready to go into the dehydrators. Each tray is 13 inches diameter; one dehydrator holds 4 and the other, 5.

I have a list of what I will need to finish dehydrating and bag up in the next 10 weeks, based on a 6-month or 24-week trip:

12 cups dried measure of each of the following:

• Carrots
• Cabbage
• Corn
• Broccoli
• Green beans
• Turnip/collard greens (yes, I like these, and yes, they rehydrate well!)

This will give me 1/2 cup dry = 1 cup reconstituted per week of each... a different vegetable each day for 6 days. The seventh day I plan to eat in town.

That's just the vegetables. I'll be mixing them with:

• Dry beans (need 24 cups dry measure = 1 cup per week = 2 X 1 cup rehydrated.) I buy them dry, soak & cook, dehydrate, and end up with "instant" dry beans. I'm not drying any more of them, though, since I discovered that lentils and split peas, after soaking 3-4 hours, cook in 5 minutes. I'll put them into a jar with water at lunchtime and heat them up for dinner.
• Brown rice (I'll need about 5 pounds for the same number of servings; soak & cook like lentils)
• 24 cups tomato sauce = 1 cup per week; I'll dry it and flake it in the blender and divvy it up; it's less expensive than 72 tomatoes (3/week)
• 8 pounds hamburger = 1 serving/week of 1/3 pound
• 8 pounds ground turkey = 1 serving/week of 1/3 pound
• Onions -- however many it takes to make 6c. dried minced onions

Then there's fruit. I don't have this fully-planned yet. Just something to mix into my oatmeal, basically. Probably:

• Applesauce "leather"
• Banana slices
• Maybe pineapple rings

That's just the stuff I'm going to dry myself.

So my dinners will include a couple servings of meat a week; complete protein the other days from the beans/rice mixture, plus cheese (buy en route); and a different vegetable every day, along with onions and tomato sauce.

I'll save breakfast, lunch, and snack plans for another post.

~Sigh~

I'm tired just from making the list. Burned up a pound of calories right there, I think.

NO BROCCOLI

I've been to the supermarkets on our side of New Orleans looking for family-size bags of frozen broccoli to put in my food dehydrator, but I can't find anything bigger than a one-pound bag.

But you can get bags of frozen okra big enough to last until the Second Coming.

We're in Louisiana.

Oh -- yes, dried-and-rehydrated broccoli is good. I've tried it out.

WHO'S ON MY HIKING POLES?

What I'm doing is, I have one hiking pole for family, one for friends. I've had the opportunity to see most of my family and have them personally sign my "family" hiking pole. Then I wood-burn over the signature to make it wear-proof. I've got 4 generations on my "family" pole. Granddaughter Abbie, then 5, signed her name and then her yet-unborn sister Sarah's name. Sarah's almost 8 months old now.

My "friends" pole is still relatively unsigned. Who wants to go with me on the Appalachian Trail? I gotta get movin' on gettin' these names on. Spread the word.... my blog readership isn't very large, so any of my readers who have a large following, get the word out.... the more friends I have with me, the better!

If you want to be on my hiking pole, write a comment telling me so! I've got ten weeks left :-)

ANOTHER BUMMER

This one involving the dehydrating of a 6-lb can of green beans.

Preamble: it's very windy in New Orleans today, steady at 28mph gusting to 40.
Preamble Part 2: Around the front of our RV, we have a "skirt," like this,




that provides an enclosed storage space with protection from wind and rain.

Supposedly.

The rest of the story:
Yesterday I posted about my bin of Ziploc-bagged dehydrated food getting wet under said canopied storage space, where rain came in around the top of the skirt right over my bin. I saved some of the food.

Today, in the wind, the skirt flapped around so much (guess we hadn't gotten around to securing it to the ground yet) that it knocked my running dehydrator right off the shelf. Luckily, it didn't break. Unluckily, 4 trays of nearly-done green beans flew onto the ground. Into gravel.

Now, the loss of a $4 can of beans isn't that big a deal, but 3 quarts of beans on the ground rehydrating in the humidity and predicted heavy rain is. Rotting beans on the ground, ew.

So I took a colander out and picked all the little bitty dried-up beans out of the gravel. Little-bitty means about the thickness of coffee stirrers. An inch long. Strewn around in the gravel. It took awhile to pick them all up. And as long as I'd picked them up, I might as well try to salvage them, so I rinsed them off in the colander until I was sure they were gravel-free, and stuck 'em back in my *indoor* dehydrator to dry them off. Can't just let them air-dry b/c they'll start to rehydrate.

I have an indoor dehydrator, which is quiet, and another one, which lives outdoors under the skirt because it makes a noise like a stove's hood-exhaust fan.

~Sigh~

I guess it's not as much of a disaster as, say, a raccoon or bear getting into a whole week's worth of food while I'm hiking. Which is why you hang your food bag overnight from tree branches or, where provided, special "bear cables" or even (as in New Hampshire) lock it up in metal boxes secured with chains.

If the Trail is as much fun as getting this food-trying thing figured out, it's going to be fun :-)

HONESTLY....

Sometimes I've thought I don't blog much because I don't have anything to blog about. But today I decided it's because I have too *much* to blog about. For days I've been thinking, blog about getting to New Orleans, blog about dehydrating food for my AT hike, blog about the thunderstorms, blog about finding a hill to hike in flat, flat New Orleans which lies 8 feet below sea level. Or the aforementioned dehydrated food spending the night under the one place where our storage enclosure leaks, and the ziploc bags leaking, accidentally re-hydrating some of it. Thankfully I only had a few days' worth of food in that bin and I was able to re-dehydrate some of it.

And as I was thinking about all this today while returning to the campground from walking/hiking/hill-climbing, trying to decide how and when to organize it all into a blog post or several, I saw a driver's license in the sandy grass by the side of the road. I picked it up and noticed a credit card a couple feet away. Same name. Hmm. What else is here? Did someone's wallet blow off their car roof or something? Found another credit card. Then I saw a soggy PlayStation box nearby and thought, did they lose a PlayStation too?? No.... inside was the purse that the cards had fallen from. More cards with the same name were in the box with the purse.

I picked it up and carried it the remaining quarter-mile or so to our camper. I started feeling nervous... I hoped the woman wasn't missing and the perp had dumped her purse. I found a business card belonging to the owner of the license and called. She was alive and well. Whew, relief. The purse had been stolen last week. Amazing to me that her credit cards were still in it.

Long story short, she came to the campground, the local police came to the campground, took my info, took her info, she got the purse back. The policeman was very nice and made the whole issue sort of fun, actually, believe it or not. The lady pushed a $20 bill on me; I refused. I said "Give it to the March of Dimes or something." She stuck it in my pocket and said, "I'm giving it to you; you give it to them if you want to."

Actually I guess if my purse was stolen and someone found it and called me and I got it back I'd probably give them twenty bucks, too. It certainly wasn't necessary.

4 days here and already I've gotten involved in something weird. First the transmission in the truck, delaying our trip by a day; then the broken hanger under the camper; now an encounter with the police over stolen property. This is going to be an interesting winter.

MEANER THAN A JUNKYARD DOG

Well, he looked mean, but he wasn't.

We left Tennessee, um, I guess it was yesterday morning, and stayed uneventfully near Birmingham, AL overnight. There were no amenities other than electric, water, and sewer hookups at that campground, but for $15, what do you want?

So this morning we left AL, and drove across the lower part of Mississippi towards New Orleans.

I swear this trip is cursed. We stopped for diesel fuel, and on his walkaround check Steve discovered a broken spring hanger on the camper. He got a car-repair/welder's business card from the truck stop. He called, the man was willing to service our rig on New Year's Day, and the fun began.

This was somewhere in Southern Mississippi. We drove to where the repair guy said he'd meet us. We waited. A man approached our truck on foot, making eye contact and waving. He had old dirty clothes, a grizzled 3-day beard, no teeth. Steve said, "I hope that's not our guy..." The fellow came to Steve's window and held out his hand. Steve shook it and said, "Are you Joe?" "Naw, I ain' Joe," the man said. "You jus' look like nice folks an' I didn' get no Christmas presents and I spent las' night in a cardboard box an' I bin wearin' the same cloes 4 months and I'm jes' lookin' for someone t' help me some...." Sounds like how I'll be living a few months from now, only in a thin nylon tent instead of a sturdy box, but we gave him two bucks and wished him well, and closed the window.

Soon the real Joe arrived, in a vinyl-top Cadillac that had seen better days. It had a lot of missing parts.

This is the car-repair guy? Yup. He looked at the broken hanger and said, "Yeah, I kin fix 'at, y'all follow me." Journey didn't like him much, growled and whined. Come to think of it, I don't think Journey's ever seen a black person. Forgive me for saying "black" but no doubt Journey just saw a black man, I mean literally a man who was black, and this gave her pause. Plus, I don't care if someone calls me a white woman, but let's get on with the story.

So Joe drives his has-been Cadillac through a maze of back streets through questionable neighborhoods where some people had bars on their windows, others were boarded up, and most had plastic or duct tape where one or more of their car windows had been.
After a number of turns, we arrived at Joe's repair establishment.

The next-door neighbor's front yard, car's rear window replaced with tablecloth.

There was a lot of debris in the yard. You can't really see this, but the weight plates back there behind the mirror say "Gold's Gym." So did the weight bench. No doubt Gold's was getting new stuff and sold their old equipment for a reasonable price.

OK, on to the dog. The repair yard was fenced, and inside the yard was a pit bull chained to a dog box with a chain big enough to hold the Titanic. Just for good measure, there was barbed wire on top of the fence, and along the bottom edge, razor wire, in case anyone including the dog tried to dig under it. No one was getting into this yard.

I like dogs. I watched this pit bull for awhile, noted his body movements as he watched us, and decided to go a little closer. He wagged his tail happily (not stiffly, a defensive sign) and had a friendly look in his eye. I approached cautiously.... you know, pit bull on a monstrous chain in a junky repair yard and all... and he sniffed my knee. I offered my hand and he sniffed it, but then his expression changed and I felt a curl of anxiety and withdrew -- I didn't want him to smell fear or whatever it is that dogs do. I figured he smelled Journey on me. He looked like he'd seen his share of fights. Scars on his face. I backed off.

A few minutes later I went back. He sniffed my hand again, and licked it. Again his expression changed and again I backed off.

This went on a few more times, each time a little more contact until he finally let me scratch him under the chin.

Awhile later he was rolling on his back for a belly rub. When I'd stop, he'd get up and press his body weight against my legs, almost knocking me down just by leaning. He liked me a lot. He slumped to the ground in sorrow when I turned to leave after the welding was done.

You can see the razor wire along the bottom of the fence, and the barbed wire at the top.

So Joe, who was a really nice guy who complained teasingly that I was "spoiling" his dog, spent two hours fixing our broken hanger, on New Year's Day when he probably would rather have been watching the Rose Bowl, and only charged $100. We gave him an extra twenty. He thanked us and smiled that the dog was going to pout the rest of the day wondering where that friendly lady went. He said not many strangers try to pet his dog.

I liked the dog.

We got to New Orleans three hours later than we'd anticipated. Like I said, the trip is cursed. This is our second try at a winter in New Orleans. The first time we started planning it, Katrina hit.

We'll see what the winter brings.

GRANDMA CLIMBED A MOUNTAIN

Well, it doesn't look like much... but that little white thingie top center is a church, and it's at about the same elevation as I am taking the picture.

Rocky Top Campground, Blountville, TN, is built on a mountainside, so of course I had to climb it. It's not a 5,000-ft elevation change or anything, but it's a mountain, and we're about halfway up it, and I saw the hill and the woods all right in our backyard, grabbed my hiking poles and my dog and up we went. It took about 5 minutes but it's the steepest hill I've climbed since June when I blew out my Achilles tendons on the Appalachian Trail.

It actually was a little steep... I found that the rubber tips on my hiking poles don't do very well on dry leaves on a hillside. I'll need more grip. I'm planning to put hex screws into my pole ends for this. I'll cover 'em w/ rubber tips most of the time.And I came down. Then I went back up and took a picture.

The reflex was striking, when I saw where we were and the mountain: I see, therefore I climb. I'm sick and I haven't hiked up a hillside in 6 months but I had to go.

I did not tear any tendons.

Short of breath, though. This bug, whatever it is, shows itself if I do anything but sit around. I'm still hoarse. Luckily, I don't have a dozen mountains to climb today as I will some days on the AT... just 3 months away now.

One was a start. I'm happy.

OR NOT....

Well, we WERE going to leave today. In fact, we got a couple miles down the road before the transmission temperature gauge in the truck shot up to H.

So back to Candy Hill we came, parked the camper, and Steve took the truck to the Ford place. Turns out it was only a sensor problem. That's the good news. Cost $600 to replace it. That's the bad news.

It shot a day of travel, but we'll get going again tomorrow. Guess we'll miss New Year's Eve in New Orleans after all. Oh, well; we'll be there for Mardi Gras.

Although I'm bummed out about the delay and the expense, I guess I'm just as glad not to travel today. While Steve was at the Ford place, I slept for a couple hours. I feel tired and have a headache. Wahhhh..... I haven't been really well since last Saturday, when I developed laryngitis and a cough that got worse until, on the last 2 days before Christmas, I couldn't make a sound and was coughing up crud. Had to tap people on the shoulder to get their attention to whisper something to them. If Steve called to me from another room, I had to go where he was to find out what he wanted, since I couldn't just call, "What?" He'd forget I couldn't talk and think I just hadn't answered.

Anyway, I'm better; coughing only in the morning, not producing any crud, still hoarse but able to talk. Every few days I'm really tired. Today is one of those.

We'll try again tomorrow to leave for New Orleans.

OFF TO NEW ORLEANS; FINISHING THE MUSIC

Tomorrow we pull out and head south.

We won't get to New Orleans till New Year's Eve, but we leave Winchester, VA tomorrow, camper in tow. We'll spend tomorrow night somewhere in Tennessee, the next night in Alabama, and on the 31st, New Years Eve in the Big Easy. Except we'll probably be too tired out to do much celebrating, especially if it means going into town. We'll probably go to bed at 10pm just like every other night.

Today we drove the 2 hours back to Winchester from our son's home in western MD, which was a couple-day stopoff on the way back from our daughters'/grandchildren's homes in Columbus, OH. In the cab of the truck we had my full-length digital piano, my violin, Steve's big duffel bag, my big camera bag and tripod, a high chair in a box (long story, returned it to Wal-Mart in Winchester after buying it in Maryland), our pillows, many Christmas presents, our cat in a cat carrier, and our 50-pound dog (who had about 18 inches of space on the back seat.) Outside in the truck bed were the stand for the piano, my guitar, a food dehydrator from our son (now I have TWO! Yay!) and my AT hiking backpack, full of not only my clothes, but a bag of food that traveled with us, and more presents, all covered with trash bags in case of rain and wedged between all the tool boxes and bins that go with Steve's RV-repair business.

Yesterday my mother and I, with son Jon's help (and a fully-charged computer battery) finally got our music recorded satisfactorily. I'm not saying "perfectly." I have music in every molecule of my body, but I never pursued it, am largely self-taught, and only play my piano a few times a year. Getting this music playable has been a major undertaking. My mother was a superb cellist in her day, but she's nearing 90. The resulting CD, well, you just have to remember it's not Yo-Yo Mah and Van Cliburn. There are goofs. Maybe not noticeable if you don't know every note of the music, but goofs that made Mother and I groan and roll our eyes because we know how we wanted it to sound, how it should sound, and how it didn't, but we finally got acceptable renditions of everything. I am so grateful we had the chance to do it. I was exhausted afterwards. So was she.

It's a keepsake we made for ourselves and for family history as well as for anyone else who's interested. I'll see what I can do to get it on the internet, after we get settled. Our son has still to download it to CD from his computer.

In addition to the cello-piano numbers, we did one, "Ashokan Farewell," with her on the fiddle/violin and me on the guitar. It wasn't the best-ever performance for either of us. Her left shoulder and arm were weakened in a fall a couple years ago, tore her rotator cuff, and it's hard for her to hold the fiddle up. The arthritis in her hands makes it hard for her to navigate the fingerboard. As for the cello, she's diminished by osteoporosis to about the size of the intrument itself. It's hard for her to get it out of the case, let alone set it up, hold it, and draw the bow with full-arm strokes.

I just wanted to get us recorded before she's gone. I feel so much better now that we've got it done.

IT'S MY BIBLE

Like you, I've heard this said hundreds of times about hundreds of references: any number of how-to's. Training programs, internet websites, books (there's even The Triathlete's Training Bible), magazines (remember Elle Wood referring to Cosmopolitan Magazine as "The Bible" in Legally Blonde?)

What is always meant is, the resource that's turned to, read, re-read, memorized, and followed to progress to and attain one's passionate goal. The guide. The source of answers for all possible questions. The ultimate word in how to proceed.

Wonder what people would be like, what the world would be like if everyone's Bible was....

The Bible.

What would I be like? I know the Bible, I've read it cover to cover as well as piecemeal (kind of like a thru-hike compared to a section-hike,) hear bits and pieces most Sundays, have a lot of verses in my memory, and I have one in the King James Version, one in the New International Version, one in French (which I can read and understand) and one in Spanish (which I can't) but I can't say I turn to any of them as often as I do to backpacking magazines, Appalachian Trail books, or Google searches for treating Achilles tendonitis, borderline blood sugar, or high cholesterol.

I'm planning to carry at least my pocket-size New Testament and Psalms on the Trail but.... humiliation here..... also pondering whether how often I'd look at it would justify the few ounces of extra weight. God, it was hard to write that. Ouch.

How would my life become different if my Bible were my Bible?

Merry Christmas, everyone.

FLOP

The recording session.... it didn't go well. Son Jon had new digital-recording software but wasn't expert at using it; took a long time to set it up and get it balanced properly. Plugging in his laptop to AC caused a hum in the recording so we went on battery. The battery kept going low and Jon would plug it in and we'd wait 10 or 20 minutes for enough charge to hopefully record one number, which would get flubbed up by one or the other of us and have to be aborted.

I was nervous being recorded, after months of preparation and anticipation, on the one day available to do it, with just enough battery for one try ("THIS IS IT!!!"), made goofs and we kept having to redo, after waiting again for the battery to charge. We'd get a good one, listen to the result, decide the piano was too strong or the cello not strong enough, readjust the settings, recharge the battery, do it again, I'd miss a few notes and get lost.... frustration added to the goof-up tendency, and we were both getting tired, which also caused compromised performance.

I should say "we all" -- Jon was wonderful but I think he was getting tired and frustrated too. Jon had custody of Abbie and Sarah that day; he'd brought Abbie (almost 6) with him and left Sarah (7 months) with Grandpa, my husband Steve. Abbie, bless her young heart, was an angel: sat absolutely silent on the sofa with coloring books for 3 solid hours, waiting till between recordings to tiptoe to the bathroom, or to tap her dad on the shoulder and whisper something to him.

Then Steve, alone at Jon's house with baby Sarah, called.... "When are you going to be done?" Apparently Sarah was not being as cooperative as Abbie. This did not help my growing agitation. Finally I said, "OK, we're going to have to do this some other time. But can we try just one more time for "The Swan?" Just in case God-knows-what happens, that is the one I really want to have recorded. So we did "The Swan" again. And it went PERFECTLY. And I was so relieved. Until Jon said, "The battery quit just before the end." I asked, "How much was cut?" He said, "All of it. If you don't stop the recording before the computer turns off you lose all of it." ~Sigh~

Well, we're going to be there overnight on the way back to Winchester from Ohio. There will be no rush to get back to Winchester, just spending the night and then hitching up in the morning and heading for New Orleans. So on the 27th we are going to give it another go. Maybe this was a good dry run. Next time I won't have stage fright (although I play well, I do make mistakes and I have never played for anything or anyone except my own pleasure in my own living room). Hopefully Jon will have the battery charged. It won't be his day to have his daughters. We'll all have had a break, and it will go well.

It will go well.

If not.... it'll have to wait till next October after I finish hiking. I can't fly to Maryland from New Orleans to make a recording. And she can't fly with her cello to N.O. to record in our little camper, there's not enough free space anywhere to draw the bow, being as how we already have a piano in there.

And who has the money for a flight, anyway?

It will go well on the 27th. It will go well.

Send us your vibes.

FOOTLOOSE AGAIN

Well, we've finished our 7-month-long workcamping gig at Candy Hill. It's one of the nicest places we've workcamped. We always like the other staff members, our young managers have been super at accomodating our scheduling needs (I'll never forget when Selena arranged my whole work schedule, and thereby everyone else's as well, around my Ironman training program.) I will especially miss 2.5-yr-old Thomas, my little surrogate grandson, for whom I cared several hours a few days a week. What a cool kid.



So now we're in transit again. Few days in our "home" area, Garrett County, MD, to see our son, his wife, their two little girls (baby Sarah is already 7 months old, how did that happen???), my mother, and the girls' other grandparents. Then, on Sunday, it's on to the Columbus, OH area, where our two married daughters are, one of them the mother of our other two grandchildren (ages 10 and nearly 13.) From there, back here (MD) for an overnight and final goodbye, then back to Winchester to hook up our camper (we're leaving it there till after Christmas), then on to New Orleans where our winter workcamping gig is.

That's till the end of March. After which..... Steve will drop me off in Georgia, and I'll start walking. And walk and walk and walk and walk until I get to Maine.

Now it's off to my mother's place to practice some more for our cello-piano/fiddle-guitar production. Time's getting close. We're recording on Saturday!

THE SWAN

Here's one of the pieces my mother (cello) and I (piano) are practicing. It's the one that I most wanted to record with her, while I still can. Click to view and hear -- not us, some two guys.

The Swan by Camille Saint-Saens

I think the pianist in this video doesn't really "feel" the music. The cellist does. When I play it, and when we play it together, I feel it so hard I feel tension and emotion, almost tears, ebb and flow through my whole body. However, the pianist in the video is more skillful than I am in a technical way. He doesn't miss any notes, he hits no wrong ones. For one thing, he's a man, and his hands are large enough to reach some of the spreads that are a stretch for me. Sometimes I miss just because I didn't reach far enough. I notice that only his fingers move on the keys: I have to roll my arms from the elbows and my hands from the wrists to reach some of the extensions.

Anyone who is a string player will understand this next comment: Towards the end of the piece, the climax note is a loooong, high cello note. It's six beats, starting at pp ("double soft") and increasing on a crescendo (louder and louder.) If you listen carefully, and watch, you can see that the cellist doesn't make the whole 6 beats and changes the bow (from "down" -- pulling back -- to "up" -- pushing forward.) To accomplish the crescendo, the cellist must start with light bow pressure not moving very fast, to heavier pressure moving faster and faster, and he runs out of bow and has to start going the other direction.

My mother says Saint-Saens made a mistake here on this note, didn't recognize that it's next to impossible to play the six beats continuously on a crescendo on one bow, and she's never heard it done, but it's the climax of the composition and changing the bow interrupts the smoothness and continuity and impact of that climax. She worked on it for months and months as a young cellist, trying to figure out a way. Finally she changed her bowing several measures in advance, and began the long climax note on an UP bow (pushing forward) which gave more control, and voila!! She'd found the way to do it all on one bow.

My mother, who's now 87, says she's never heard another cellist, live or recorded, do it on one bow. To her knowledge, it's never been done. But she does it. Whenever she hears this piece of music, she listens closely to hear a bow change, and it's always there. She has NEVER heard another cellist do it on one bow; possibly, no one has even thought of it or perceived, or felt, that it would be more powerful on a single bow stroke.

I believe that, in her day, my mother may have been, probably without realizing it, one of the greatest cellists in the world. But she was with the symphony (Baltimore, Washington National, also New York Philharmonic Orchestra) and never got to shine as the great soloist that she was. She quit the symphony to have a baby (me) and from then on her musical career was reduced to giving cello and piano (and now, at age 87, country fiddle) lessons in the living room, and teaching public school music.

I never heard her play professionally until I was probably 40. I'd heard the lessons, and I'd heard her playing with my visiting grandmother on the piano, and she and I played together at home for pleasure when I was in my teens. But later, she was invited by a local arts festival to give a concert. She had a professional piano accompanist and gave a truly professional concert. Attending, listening, watching, I was thunderstruck. This was MAJOR LEAGUE. This was an artist. This was exceptional. And I was 40 and had NEVER HEARD MY MOTHER DO THAT. Just listening to this cellist on the stage, never mind that she was my mother, I was mesmerized, paralyzed, transported..... I don't know when I have ever heard such a cellist.

Ellinor Learned Benedict. The world never heard of her.

She quit to have a baby. Me.

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Here are the other pieces we're recording together:

Schubert Ave Maria (they do it a little more slowly; I think it drags a little)

Bach-Gounod Ave Maria (this one's done well, very sensitively)

And one with violin/fiddle (Mom) and guitar (me): Ashokan Farewell

She first picked up a fiddle and learned to play country-bluegrass at age 65.

GOING NUTS

Yesterday morning when I started brushing my teeth, I realized the toothpaste didn't taste right... sickly sweet instead of minty fresh. What the hell??? I picked up the tube and looked at it... sunscreen. I was brushing my teeth with sunscreen.

Then I got ready to go somewhere and when I got to the car realized I'd left the key in the house. So I went back but the key was gone from the hook. I looked in my pockets and everywhere else. Finally decided I wasn't going anywhere until the key turned up, and took off my jacket; that's when I heard the key jingling from my belt loop, right where I always put it when I take it off the hook or out of the ignition.
_______________________

My cardiolite stress test was normal. No glitches. So I can go out and climb hills or whatever, knowing that whatever those panic attacks were, they weren't my heart.
_______________________

I've got my longer walks up to 7 miles now. Yee-haw!!! My tendons feel good. Now my metatarsal area hurts. I've got these $400 orthotics but I don't think I have enough metatarsal cushioning. Don't know whether to get ball-of-foot pads or full cushy insoles to go under my orthotics. It's always something....

CANDY ADDICT

~Sigh~

I was sweeping out the game room today at the campground. Behind one of the game machines I found a vanilla mini-Tootsie Roll, one of my favorites, still wrapped. I stuck it in my pocket. Then I found a caramel, one of those round ones with the white center. I love those. It was lying there bare in the dust and I actually considered eating it. Ewwww.....

I didn't eat the caramel. And I figured, if I could pass that up, I could pass up the Tootsie Roll, too, and I threw it in the trash.

It could have started me on a days-long sweet binge, yes, just that one little piece, and I've currently got 5 days straight of no sugar and very conservative carbohydrate intake. Believe it or not (I don't know whether to believe it or not) I've been running some borderline-ish sugar levels and my doctor is, well, I wouldn't say concerned, but kind of on the alert. So am I. I CRAVE sugar, breads, etc. I can keep it under control if I don't eat any. When I do, more than likely twenty minutes later I'll be having trouble staying awake.

Doc said it's all a sign that my body isn't handling carbohydrates well and it would be best to keep them down. She said it's not impossible that I could develop diabetes if I don't take control now.

I don't have a family history, or excess abdominal fat, I'm not overweight (never thought I'd see the day I'd say that) but I did have a baby over 9 pounds (the others were close,) which is considered a red, or at least yellow flag. And while, as I said, I'm not overweight right now, it's a constant battle. I've lost and regained 20-30 pounds 5 times in the last 25 years.

And of course my cholesterol is always an issue. Sugary stuff and refined carbs don't help that one bit.

Nutritional goals right now:

• Emphasize lower-calorie, high-fiber vegetables as my major carbohydrate source
• Grains, if any: Oat bran, oatmeal, flax seed meal, brown rice, occasional half-calorie bread(I do way better gastronomically without wheat)
• Fruits: very conservative, mostly berries
• Protein: Plentiful; lean
• Fat: Mostly olive oil and nuts

Five days I've stuck with it. Let's see if I get healthier...

MOVIN' RIGHT ALONG....

5.75 miles today, mostly walking, with some "25-breath" runs inserted. Run for 25 "in-2-out-2" counts (GPS showed 5.8-6.3mph) and then back to walking, 3.8-4.2mph. I ran the hills but no more than 25 "breaths."

I guess I "passed" my nuclear stress test Monday. I have to get the final report when I see my doc next week, but I ended up jogging 4.2mph at 14% grade with no pain in my tendons, chest, or anywhere. They had wanted to stop me at 3.5mph and 10% grade b/c my heart rate was around 138, and they calculated that 139 was 85% of my calculated max, but I told them I was still easily conversational, not stressed at all, and that if we stopped now I wouldn't feel confident to go out on my own and actually stress myself running up hills; I asked to proceed on perceived effort. The cardiologist shrugged, the tech said, "It's OK, we have another crew coming in at lunch time," and the nurse cranked up the pace and incline. I heard a lady, waiting for her test, ask nervously, "Am I going to have to do what that lady's doing? Because if I try that, you're going to be picking me up out of the gutter."

4.2mph isn't much, but 14% grade is, and I haven't been running all summer, so it wasn't a bad showing.

Tuesday I had my front tooth/crown/post extracted. When I was in my 20's, I had an infected wisdom tooth pulled. In my 30's, another one. I thought those were what extractions were like. Well.... compared to this, those were like pulling young weeds out of the garden. This was like uprooting a tree. I never expected it to be so hard to pull out. But it came out all in once piece, badly abscessed (looked like a raisin), and then I had some bone debridement where the infection was trying to spread, and some drilling that felt like boring into ice with an augur to make a hole for fishing, and then the insertion of the implant (he used a ratchet), and some sutures, and an Aleve tablet and a prescription for Tylenol #3, and then I was done.

An hour into the trip home, we stopped in a tiny town at a tiny drugstore where I was the only customer, got the Rx filled in 5 minutes, asked the pharmacist for a glass of water and gulped a pill right there. It didn't help much and I had crying spells the rest of the 3-hour drive home. After 800mg of ibuprofen I started to feel better, and amazingly, the next day (yesterday) I had no pain at all.

Except psychological.... I look like a jack-o-lantern. My employer said just tell people I'm from West Virginia but that won't work.... anyone can see that the rest of my teeth are good. (We're close to the WV state line and there's mutual firing of WV/VA jokes back and forth.) I'll just have to say "It's a work in progress," or, "I broke it and killed it, what's your excuse?" Or say nothing and keep smiling and wait till next Tuesday when I get my one-tooth partial plate.

Off for bath-house cleaning now. Then 5 hours this evening of caring for 2.5-yr-old Thomas, the son of the campground managers. I love Thomas. He's like another grandchild.

ON THE PHONE

A couple days ago, Dee posted a thought-provoking essay, Cell Phone vs. Bible.

Suppose I used my Bible as much as I use my cell phone?

I'll tell you right off, I don't.

But what if.... every time I see someone talking on their cell phone, I shoot up a quick arrow prayer to God? For the person on the cell phone? For the ignored cashier checking the phone-user's groceries? For the drivers sharing the road with the phone-user? For the family of the phone-user? For the workers who made the cell-phone? For everyone in the world using a cell-phone at this moment?

Suppose every time I use my phone or hear it ring, I say a short prayer before I put the phone to my ear?

For my family?

For my husband?

For me?

Monday morning I have my long-anticipated, long-worried-about cardiac stress test, the follow-up to my hospitalization for the anxiety attack that I thought might be a heart attack. They'll shoot me up with some kind of nuclear stuff and garner high-tech images of my heart at rest and under stress on the treadmill. Hopefully my tendons will be up to the challenge, able to do what my heart is capable of.... walking fast/jogging on an incline.

I'm mostly over my semi-PTSD from the anxiety attack, but I'm still a little apprehensive about the test.... due to my tendons, I haven't done much real heart-stressing cardio since June, and don't know what will happen when I push to the max, since they never did find out what that attack was. No physician has told me it was a panic attack; I have told them. Maybe it was something else after all.

Then Tuesday morning I have oral surgery. The front tooth I broke at age 10, had crowned after a root canal, bashed against a glass door early this summer, cracking the root with the post to which the crown is attached.... that cracked root has to come out. An implant inserted and bone-grafting and gum-reshaping. Temporary prosthesis, a "flipper"(click for picture) for months and months while the whole thing heals. After I get done hiking the Trail, I'll get a permanent crown.

I'll have to walk around without a front tooth for a week or so until enough healing takes place to use the flipper.

Now I'm going out for my first FIVE-MILE walk on my Achilles Tendonitis Rehab Journey.

Maybe over the next couple days, once or twice when you use your cell phone or see someone using theirs, you could send up a little thought for me and my stress test and my teeth. Thank you...

KISUBG UT

That's "LOSING IT" with my right hand on the wrong keys.

On the docket for today's training: 2 miles, an easy day in between two 4.5's.

Each walking day is a chance to try out trail-wear (needs are different for walking than for running, I'd know just what to wear for a run, still figuring it out for walking.) Today at start time: cloudy, 40*F, wind WNW at 19mph, wind chill 30*F.

Decision: Light acrylic zip-up hooded sweater (can be base, middle or top layer, $3.99 at Goodwill) and tights that I made by taking in the legs of a pair of sweater-knit pants ($2.00 at Salvation Army on half-price day.)

Both were in my backpack, which I had to go outside and get. Dug in it for my clothing bag. The sweater was there, but where the H were the pants??? I never wear them for anything in real life, there is nowhere they could be but in that bag, in my pack. Look through drawers and closet. Nope. Gone. ?????????

Well.... then my hotsy-totsy Marmot Precip waterproof windproof breathable rain/wind pants (real gear, $70 from an outfitter I can't remember near Bar Harbor, ME.) I'll see if they're windproof. I'll see if they're breathable. I'll see if I stick to them when I'm sweaty or if I'll need an underlayer.

So the rain pants, sweater, and over it all, half-zip windbreaker/rain jacket ($10 her at Candy Hill Campground.)

Where the hell are those pants? This is bothering me. It happens to me all the time. Things just disappear from my life without preamble or explanation. Poof. Gone.

OK, so 2 miles. Plan: Walk half a mile, run a quarter-mile (I carry a hand-held GPS), repeat until done. It's 2 miles to the fire house so that's an easy target. Things were going great until I was at 1.6, headed for the fire house and suddenly, DUH..... it's 2 miles to the fire house so it's also 2 miles BACK and that makes 4, not 2, and if I turn around right now that will be over 3 so I'm breaking training no matter what.

So I turned around but, what the heck here, am I losing my mind as well as my pants? Maybe losing my pants is part of losing my mind. Good thing I didn't forget pants altogether, although I'm sure I'd have recognized my mistake pretty quickly in the cold, if I could figure out why I was cold, that is.

Stats: 3.3 miles, four 1/4-mile runs making a full mile of running, my new PR in my post-Achilles incarnation.

More than planned, but not really too much, more than a mile less than my max, and besides, I have to "train" for my stress test coming up in a couple weeks. My husband says, "Who the hell trains for a stress test?" I do. I'm out of shape from not running/biking all summer and want to pull a decent test without having to get shot up with stuff to increase my heart rate.

Clothing results:
Acrylic sweater: Fabulous. Wicked that sweat right through to the inside of my windbreaker, which was wet although the sweater stayed dry.

Rain pants: OK. Didn't stick to me, although they didn't feel fabulous -- like nylon against skin. Blocked the wind. Apparently breathed though, they weren't clammy or anything.

Where the hell are those sweater tights????

I REALLY AM STILL ALIVE

Gosh, gang..... y'all have been asking where I am. You miss me when I don't post! Love ya!

Sometimes, life just seems to be the same thing every day and I can't think of anything to post about.

I'll start with my walking/training progress, since that's a great metaphor for still being alive.

Walking is up to 4.5 miles. Yay!! That's half a day's hike in the early weeks of the Trail. I expect to start with about 8 miles a day, upping it every couple weeks by a couple miles until I stabilize at the 16 or so daily miles most hikers put in. Daily distance partly depends on where the next shelter is. They're spaced roughly a day's hike apart, anything from 6 to maybe 12 miles. I don't plan to stay in the shelters for the most part.... the mice are plentiful and brazen, and I don't like to hear snoring. But tenting right near the shelter is good, because you never camp alone that way. Most shelters have tentsites nearby. If the weather is really, really awful (torrential rain, wild wind) I'll stay inside the shelter, with ear plugs (for the snores of shelter mates) and a piece of bug netting (for the mice, with whom I would rather not share my sleeping bag, or my hair.)

Next week I graduate to a 5-mile walk. Woohooo!!! I'm starting to jog a little bit, too, since soon my walking will be of enough distance to take a huge chunk of time without some "running breaks."

I love my new backpack. It's supposed to be "Lip Red" as described in my previous post, but it's really more of a rust color (thank goodness.) It's 3800 cubic inches, and all my stuff is packed into it with room to spare. It resides in the storage area under our RV home, since I can't hike yet, especially with extra weight in a backpack. Every few days I haul it out, unpack it, ponder what I'll need and what I won't and what I could make a lighter version of, then repack it, put it back under the camper, and read my AT books some more. Or something similar.... right now I'm reading Yukon Alone, by John Balzar, about the Yukon Quest International Sled Dog Race, less well-known and more rugged than the Iditarod. Like other athletes preparing for a major event -- marathon, triathlon, hiking the Appalachian Trail -- the mushers obsess over their lists of what they need, how much food per dog per day, pack, unpack, repack, revise the list, and start over. They weigh everything over and over trying to get their load as light as possible (their sled bags are commonly packed with 350 pounds of supplies, mostly food for the dogs, relatively little for themselves.) They plan airdrops of food and supplies (on the AT that's a mail drop; in the Ironman it's the Special Needs Stops;) they plan race strategies of how many miles in how many hours at what pace followed by what length rest break.... it's all so familiar. Sports are all so different but it seems endurance sports have features that bind their participants together in common experience.

BACKPACK!

I can't believe it's been so long since I wrote a blog post. Our computer was down for awhile.... or rather, we had to get a new hard drive after my husband spilled a glass of wine all over it!! Anyway, we're back up again.

Camping out in the cold.... it went fine. I was warm enough in my sleeping bag with an extra layer of clothes, even down to 28* one night. I got tired of faking a backpacking trip after 3 days of it, though. I slept outside, took down my tent every morning, put it back up every night, and ate hiking food cooked on my backpacking stove. But in the backyard it was just missing something.

Anyway, on to the news....

With my end-of-season bonus from Candy Hill Campground, I just ordered my backpack for my Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike. GoLite Quest Women's, MSRP $175, goes for $169 at Campmor, on sale for $119.99. I think I got a good deal. It's one of the ones that's been on my short list.

From the Campmor description:

"The Quest is an all season backpacking, mountaineering, alpinist, adventure, travel pack. The shoulder straps, torso and hip area are narrower for women's-specific fit.
Adjustable webbing hipbelt with two bellowed mesh pockets for closures
Two side hydration openings with internal sleeve for 3 liter hydration
Front pocket holds shovel, shovel handle, skins and probe [rain jacket, gloves, snacks...]
Two side compression straps with quick release
Removable lid with a welded watertight zipper for top pocket
Compaktor system
Side compression straps release and join to opposite side for carrying snowboard, snowshoes etc. [or wet tent.. it will be, most of the time, you dry it out during rest breaks]
Frame sheet with 2 adjustable aluminum stays [removable to shave weight]
Two angled side mesh pockets with elastic top binding for easy access while wearing
Shaped back panel and hip wings with padding to contour to the back and hips
Contoured, compression molded hip wings with supreme cushion that cups the hips while in use
Number of pockets: 6
Made of: 100% pu-coated nylon Velocity with DWR
Size:
S - H 28 in. x W 8.5in. x D 10 in.

Weight:
S - 2 lbs. 12 oz.

Capacity:
S - 3800 cu in.

Yummy!!!! Yes, I got red. The other choice was "iris," which looked to me more like lilac, a fairly girly color. I don't want to be girly.

Now I have to wait for shipment :-( Not that I'm going anywhere, unless I take it on my now FOUR-mile walks.... Yes, FOUR miles!! With a few short smooth gentle jogs included! Movin' on up!!

CAMPING OUT

It's going down into the 30's tonight with possible frost. So I'm pitching my tent in the yard to test out the modifications I've made to my sleeping bag and warm clothing. While I'm at it, I might as well keep on sleeping out and living out of my backpack, including clothing, bathing (baby wipes), food and cooking.... I've got supplies for 5 days or so and I need a test run of just more than overnight. So I'm going to do it all but the hiking :-)

A COMB AND A BRUSH AND A BOWL FULL OF MUSH

And where is it that you get schwag like this?

Yup. Ellie here got admitted to the hospital overnight. For panic attacks. Except that the extreme apprehension, coupled with odd chest sensations, made me a cardiac patient. So I was there 24 hours on telemetry monitoring on a dumb cardiac diet (low-sodium, restricted fat, Mrs. Dash instead of salt, bleah) while I got all kinds of EKG's, echocardiograms, lab tests, and of course no more panic attacks.

But it felt like I might have something lethal during the couple hours that I had them.

They ruled out anything cardiac but didn't seem too interested in finding out what else might have caused it, sent me home with Ativan in case it happens again. The ER doc, however, listened to my history and ordered up tests for celiac disease, which probably won't be covered by my insurance since it doesn't fit my admitting diagnosis of "chest pain." However, I've been wondering about it for awhile, since lifelong IBS symptoms abated when I undertook a low-carb (grain-free) diet, and returned if I cheated with cookies, donuts, or pizza. The day of this incident, I was supposed to have had an appt. with my primary doc, and I had eaten wheat the day before to see if anything would happen so I'd be able to report it to her. So the ER doc ordered the test. And yes, along with the panic I had had bowel hyperactivity, so it wasn't all that irrelevant.

Anyway, I got a cool bucket that will be handy, and a hairbrush I like, and little plastic bottles I can put stuff in for hiking, and baby wipes I can use for bird-baths when I do my week-long backyard-camping gig to learn the ropes, and a toothbrush so I won't have to buy one when my current one gets old. And the little pitcher.... I may pitch it but it has a styrofoam insert that gave me the idea to use a styrofoam cup as an insulator inside a yogurt container for a lightweight heat-retaining cup/bowl/rehydrator on the trail.

Today according to my PT schedule I get to walk THREE MILES!!! It's starting to feel like actual distance. I mean, 3 miles is a distance I might, in my running incarnation, have put on my running shoes for and held in some esteem.

The cardiologist wants me to get a stress test, presumably as a baseline now that we've determined nothing is wrong, to compare to later on when something does.... "Because we all experience coronary changes as we age," he said. I didn't like him much. However, I'll have to figure out with my PT how to walk/run long enough on an incline to get my heart revved up without killing my Achilles. The cardio guy said, "You don't have to walk... we'll give you a cardiac stimulant to achieve the stress." Oh, goody. Sounds like just what I want.... something to make my heart race when I'm sitting still. Maybe I'll just cancel the stress test.

So the hospital experience is mostly behind me except for follow-up. I have Ativan in case I get another attack (it will still be within its shelf life on the trail, I don't want to deal with panic attacks on the trail...) And I have cool schwag that, if not completely useful or something I would have deliberately acquired now, gave me ideas for MacGyvering later.

It still wasn't fun. And I like salt in my food, and as for fat-restricted.... haven't they heard of the cardiac benefits of olive oil?

MORE THAN JUST MORE-OR-LESS AMBULATORY

I just walked two miles....yup, my second 2-miler in my Achilles rehab/Appalachian Trail training. Tomorrow is its subsequent "rest" day, Thursday a one-mile "recovery" walk, then a rest day, then THREE miles on Saturday. WhoooEEEE!!!

Yesterday I biked to and from physical therapy, then reloaded my daypack for other errands by bike: return library books, pay a bill at an office, do some banking, pick up a few groceries. I returned from all that with 13.73 miles on my odometer, feeling exercised (maybe exorcised) and green -- economically and ecologically, saved money, saved fuel.

Physical therapy is tapering off, from twice a week to once every week or 10 days. I have a SLEW of home exercises and stretches to do. It will be good not to go so often, though... twice a week with an insurance co-pay each time is $50 a week, $200 a month. It could be worse; I could have no insurance at all.

DEE'S QUESTIONS

Dee had these questions and comments about my last post:

"You are so organized. I cannot wait for you to go and then report back to us at sometime. What do you plan to do about that? Will you write when you go into town every 5 days or will you wait until you get home? I am so excited about you going. How is your foot feeling?"

Well, I don't know about "organized," but I'm trying to learn! Organization is not my forte but I can't do this without learning some. I'm feeling I should have started earlier.

About reporting during my hike: ShirleyPerley has very kindly offered to be my "scribe." I'll write little journal entries in camp, then mail it to her from towns. She's going to post it on my blog for me. I'll be sending pictures to my husband (I guess sending my camera's memory card, keeping two or three in rotation) so somehow the two of them will struggle to align the pictures with the posts.

There's a huge site, TrailJournals.com, where most hikers post their journals, but I'm so used to blogging here, and have so many friends here, I think I'm just going to keep it here.

As for my tendons.... big improvements. Thursday at my PT session I actually got to RUN for 2 minutes on the treadmill while my therapist observed my gait. Last week I did 3 one-mile walks and a 2-mile walk. This week I'm scheduled for a 3, a 2, and a 1. She's going to give me an updated training plan tomorrow, plus more/different exercises to do at home, going longer between therapy sessions and tapering that off.

Now as long as I don't do something stupid and set myself back....

Thank you for the questions, Dee!

COUNTDOWN BEGINS

Photo from Vacpacker

Six months from today, I start hiking. Six months from today!!

So I'm going to start preparing in earnest (as if, up till now, I'd just been pretending.) Steve is going to be mailing me a box every two weeks. So, starting now, I'm going to start filling those boxes. If I get a box every two weeks, and spend two weeks filling it (drying food, etc.), that should take me up to Starting Day.

I won't be taking two whole weeks' worth of food at a time; I'll be stopping in (or detouring into) towns every 5 days or so, and I'll pick up replenishables there: cheese (keeps a week unrefrigerated), a few eggs, a little fresh fruit. But I can go more cheaply and nutritiously if I start hoarding pre-purchased shelf-stable things now, like bags of beef jerky and nuts. I figure on needing three 1# bags of frozen vegetables, dehydrated, a week. They'll take up hardly any room or weight when dried. I'll dry up 3 bags now, add a bag of walnuts and a bag of beef jerky, some dried fruit, a cup of olive oil in a plastic squeeze bottle, a couple boxes of instant rice and/or mashed potatoes, a zip-loc of powdered milk, a week's worth of instant coffee, and weigh 'em, along with a block of cheese, and see how much the week's stash will weigh me down, and what size pre-paid priority-mail box it will need. Then I'll modify.

I'm a champion at modifying. I modify way better than I solidify.