The Quest of Pamola

If I haven't already pulled the trigger of announcing a long distance hike, making it official, I am pretty much locked and loaded.  Lisa and I have discussed the possible plan of heading down to Georgia and getting back to Springer, to then hike North, towards the place where Pamola resides.  

In my current line of work, I get the question all time of "have you hiked the whole trail?" from a lot of our visitors.  I immediately point out that I have done a decent portion of the trail, but next year, my bride and I will set our sites north on an adventure in walking.  Each time I say it, it feels more real to me.  It builds my excitement, my need, to get on the trail, become an outsider and hike north into the mists.  

Being immersed in the Trail Culture and hiking whenever I can squeeze in the time, I have a decent idea of what to expect.  I also expect to experience a lot of things I haven't yet and might not have thought of.  That's what adventures are.  A voyage into the unknown.  

So, as the idea becomes more real, things resembling obstacles keep throwing themselves in front of us.  We deal with each challenge as it comes and think that this might jeopardize our plan, but we fight on, taking care of the problem and for now, continuing on.

First, there is the "wedding".  Daughter number one is tying the knot in October.  Once that financial ruining, er, glorious event happens, we can set our sights towards Georgia, and Springer and "The Hike".  

Another recent situation was my back going out more than it ever has before.  With a months long recovery that signals to me that my body isn't getting any younger.  I got to see what I have left in the tank.  I have to get out there before my back says "unuh,  you done."  

Some more recent perceived barriers (omens) are some equipment failure issues at the house.  Not long ago the washer gave up the ghost.  Last week, the dryer decided it was its turn.  Yesterday, the computer's power supply started giving off a very smokey smell and won't power up the unit anymore.  It seems as if Pamola is already challenging me.  Already scoffing at my audacity of assuming I would be allowed to start this Quest.  The Quest of Pamola.  

But attempt the Quest we will.

Brandi, (daughter number two), will be our home base support team leader.  Her team of one will tend to the house and its furry occupants.  Ensuring the lights stay on and the trains run on time.  She is predicting we will be home in a month at most.  She may be right, but who knows.

I'm not obsessed with the job title of Thru Hiker.  If we go all the way, great, but I really don't care if we make it all the way in that calendar year.  I have already realized that I will be hiking the trial until I can no longer walk.  If I do go and finish the trail in one season, I still won't be done.  I won't be finished hiking. 

So, if I find myself pulled back to the "other" world during the hike, that's ok.  I will do what I have to do and get back to the trail when I can.  I'm a hiker until the end.

You might be wondering about this Quest of Pamola.  What is this "Pamola"?  

Pamola is an indigenous god, (sometimes labeled a demon), who can control the weather.  Actually a storm god.  He has the head of a moose, the feet and wings of an eagle and the body of a man.  He resides in Katahdin.  You must appease him if you think you can summit that greatest mountain.  The ones who feared/worshiped him, thought it taboo to enter his domain.  The mountain...

To appease Pamola you must sacrifice "fat and oil".  I plan on making that sacrifice using bacon and olive oil.  Seems like that will work.  Add a little to the fire.  Say a few words and you might found worthy.

If we make it to Pamola's domain, and if we are found worthy, we will summit in glory and celebrate the event.  But it will only be an event.  Not the first, not the last, just one point in time, where we were found worthy.  

An Impatient Convalescence

Getting old sucks.  Having your body "betray" you is not fun.  Not being able to do simple things like twist, or lift things or even break into a jog or run makes me feel useless and frail.  I hate this.  I am impatient to be better.  It doesn't have to be a complete healing, just enough relief to be able to move freely again.  To be able to hoist and carry a pack.  To get back to what I'm "supposed" to be doing.  Hiking.

Hike day (postponed):
Right now, I should be hiking up Chinquapin Hill towards Quarry Gap shelter, on a two day, 20 mile hike with friends that I have been promising to do this with for a while now.  But I'm not.  I'm sitting here at the computer typing this, with a dull ache in my lower back.  It's a dull ache now, but it likes to surprise me with a debilitating, stabbing spike of pain, whenever I twist the wrong way.  The potential for that to happen repeatedly as I carry my pack and hike for miles has caused me to cancel my part of this trip.  

Ginger and I have just returned from our morning walk in the nearby woods.  I like getting out there.  The soft ground and bird song restore me.  The easy movement using my trusty walking stick, help loosen my back.  Sometimes it feels really good.  This morning, I decided to cut the walk shorter than usual, because my back gave me a twinge as we started towards the woods.  I was feeling ok at the end, but thought the shorter walk would be enough for today.  Pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to do 10 miles with 30 lbs on my back.

There is a slight nip in the air and the breeze is chilly.  The sun is shining though and it would have been a good day to hike.  The coolness of the air tempers the heat you generate as you hike up hill.  But alas, I'm not there.  The need to get out there is still very strong, but I will have to wait.  The thing I hate to do.  

Next day:
It looks like the temperature up on Big Flat was about 25 degrees this morning.  Would have been a chilly night and morning.  I try to say that the weather doesn't effect my plans and for the most part, that is how I roll, but I'm not too sad that I didn't have to go through the warming process of getting camp packed and hitting the trail to heat up my body.  

I had been sleeping on the couch the last several days as it seemed our bedroom mattress was hurting my back more.  Last night I slept on my daughters old twin mattress (pretty firm) and I slept just as good as on the couch.  One day at a time.  

A few days later:
Well, sleeping on the mattress didn't work for some reason.  My back started getting persnickety again, just in time for my first physical therapy session.  I went back to the couch and that is where I'll stay for a while.  

My physical therapy session went well.  We talked about what was causing a lot of the pain, (tight muscles pulling on the spine, especially at the sacrum) and I learned some exercises to loosen those muscles.  Also, I was given a support belt that raps around your pelvis and holds everything stable and that seems to be working a lot.  It is supposed to be better than the normal lumbar support belt and it seems to be.  

I am feeling better as the days go by and am able to more about more, but it still seems like it is taking too long.  I am very impatient to get back up and running.

As I look at this from a different perspective, I realize I need to readjust my expectations.  My brother had  a very long convalescence when he had his leg crushed in an Iron Worker accident a couple years ago.  The accident was so bad, that is ended his career of building structures and bridges and all the stuff Iron Workers do.  It was over a year before he could get in a vehicle on the driver side instead of the passenger side.  There was talk on and off of amputation, but he kept the leg and even though it will never be totally fixed, he can now move around much better.  I can only imagine what he went through with his months and months of immobility and I mentally slap myself out of it when I'm feeling impatient to be "right" again.  

So, this rant has gone long enough.  I appear to be getting "better", but I have a feeling that there are some aches and pains that are here to stay in this aging body.  I will just need to learn how to deal with them and do my darndest to get back out on the trail, where I belong.  

Keep on Hiking, 
EarthTone

Sleeping on Ice

For a while now, I have been wanting to do a winter overnight out on the trail somewhere.  To be an Outsider, you must be able to experience all forms of weather and figure out how to handle each.  When we go out on our long distance hikes, we must be ready to function in every way when Mother Nature throws curve balls.  Knowing what it is like to be outside in cold, snowy weather is a must in preparation.

So, with the three feet of snow that Jonas dumped on the East Coast, I had a good back drop for a quick stay in the woods.  I had some business to attend to up at the Museum and I made sure I brought my full pack ready to go.  As the day went by, I figured I could head up in the afternoon some time and maybe make it to a shelter area for the night.  

Even with the melting we had over the past week or so, there was still at least a foot of snow in the woods and therefore on the trail.  I had some slim hopes that the trail would have had some traffic on it and devised a way to use some of the old roads in the area (which used to be the AT) to get me up South Mountain and on my way to Toms Run Shelter.  As I always do, I had alternate plans to the main plan and would change as needed.  That change came pretty quick.

I came very close to chickening out once again after I visited the Inn Keepers at the Ironmasters Mansion (Mike and Mary), but some force made me turn onto Old Shippensburg Rd instead of crossing the street and returning to the Museum.  My back had gone out as I shoveled some snow in preparation for a maintenance visit the next day and the familiar pain was nagging me and my visit to the Mansion had delayed me some (but it was worth it. Had to sample some home brew).  I had almost decided to just stay at the Museum for the night, but after I made that turn, my mind changed and I kept hiking.  As I headed up the old road, which was clear, I figured I could always turn around and just make a nice practice walk out of it with a full pack (plan C).  

When I got to the end of the road, I had about an hour of daylight left.  I left the road and followed the little trail that goes to the AT.  I immediately started post holing.  When I got to the AT, there was one lonely set of prints and they were snow shoes.  I walked to the bridge over Toms Run and decided that plan B will work just fine for tonight.  There is a small (semi secret) spot near here, where I have camped before, so I headed there.  It wasn't a long hike, but I realized quickly that there was no way I would be able to get to Toms Run Shelter in the next hour.  This place would do fine for the night.  

Tent up, wood found.  Time for fire and dinner

I located the place and kicked off the snow that covered the fire ring.  I stomped out an area to put my little one man tent, set it up and did a quick walk around to gather a few pieces of wood, so I could have a little fire before bed.  

The day had been in the low 40s, which had softened the top of the snow, but the night was going to get into the low 20s or even upper teens.  I had what I needed to keep warm and dry.  My socks had gotten a little damp in the day as I shoveled the snow in my trail runners, but I tried out a technique where you put your feet in bread bags as a vapor barrier.  I had one bread bag and one Walmart shopping bag, but it really did the trick.  My feet felt warm and toasty up until bed time.  

I made a small fire and cooked my dinner with my stove.  The fire was for a little warmth and comfort.  I didn't really Need it, but I was glad to stare into its eyes for a short time.  The sun set as scheduled and my belly was full with warm food.  As darkness settled in and the fire burnt down, I decided to retire to the tent and read some.  It was still pretty early.

Hiker box Mountain House. mmmmm

I (wrongly) decided to keep my hiking clothes on, even keeping on my damp socks and not putting on the nice thick wool socks I bring for camp during cold times.  I still felt pretty warm from the hike up the mountain and figured my body heat would help dry the socks (which it did), but I probably should have put the thick socks on and maybe my dry base layer that I also carry in cold weather.  My puffy was standing by, but I didn't feel the need for it yet.  

Snow camp

I scampered into the small Eureka tent and once again realized, that this is really nothing more than a fancy bivy sack and not really a tent.  There isn't much room to do anything in there like change clothes and such, so I just lay down and got out my phone to fire up the Kindle app and do some reading.  Not too long after that, I was ready for a little nap.  This usually happens when I start reading in bed.  I was still feeling warm and comfortable, so I let sleep take me for a time.

If you check my FitBit sleep pattern for that night, you will see A Lot of awake time.  I did a lot of left side, flat on back, right side, flat on back, left side, repeat.  My back was still hurting some, so there's that, but I usually do a lot of tossing and turning when I first go into the bush.  My mattress was working fine, I didn't feel any cold coming up from the packed snow, but I was awake a lot.  I had forgotten to remove my hammock woobie under quilt from my pack before heading out and I used that as a ground cloth in the tent and my sleeping pad fits into a sleeve in my Big Agnes sleeping bag, which went on top of the woobie.  I also had my bag liner, which gives a few more degrees of warmth in my 30 degree bag.  Getting into that while in the small tent was fun.

After a few hours of doze/sleep, I felt just a little cold.  Not too bad, but I knew it was time to put the puffy on.  I usually use it as a pillow, so I replaced it with my clothes bag and struggled into the puffy.  I immediately felt very warm and would for the rest of the night (at least on my upper body).  As the night wore on, my feet began to feel cold.  My socks had indeed dried, but the darn tough socks just weren't as good as my thick wool socks.

As morning arrived, but not light (it is still the dead of winter, no matter if Phil sees his shadow or not), I lay in my bag, feeling warm and not wanting to face the freezing cold day.  I could see with my head lamp that a fine layer of ice now coated the tent walls from the vapor of my breath.  It had cooled off quite a bit during the night.  

Eventually I forced my arising by letting the air out of my sleeping pad.  The cold immediately came through, so it was get up or get cold.  Well, getting up also meant getting cold, but I had to get moving.  At first, I had planned to make some coffee and oatmeal before heading back, but as I started packing up, I realized, I could do that later in the semi-warmth of the Museum.  I needed to get moving.

I had the usual problems.  Try to pack something without gloves.  Hands get really fucking cold, stop and put on gloves for a while.  Try again.  My shoes had frozen solid in the night.  I was glad I had untied them the evening before, but I should have opened them up more.  I basically slammed them on my feet and tied the frozen strings as best I could.  Other than my feet and hands, I was not cold.  I estimated that the temperature had dropped to the low 20s overnight. (Later verified to be somewhere between 18 and 24)

As I was getting everything together, my feet started going numb from the toes back until about half of my feet felt like a block of ice.  I would stomp in place for a while to get the blood flowing a little, then get back to work.  Also, I guess I should have had a footprint below my tent as the woobie and the sleeve on the sleeping bag was wet and so was the pad somewhat.  I just shoved everything into the pack and rolled up the icy tent and put it on the outside of my pack.  I knew I would be in warm(ish) and dry space soon.  I would be "inside".  

Before too long, I was ready to go.  It was still plenty dark and I had done all the work by head lamp so far, even though the waning crescent moon was shining brightly from above.  I retraced my post hole steps to the road and started down the mountain.  After about 1/2 mile, my feet warmed up from the effort of walking, but before they were all toasty, they had some painful moments as the feeling started coming back into my toes and forefoot.

I turned out my head lamp for the walk down the road as the moon was providing all I needed to see the black, clear strip of gravel that was the road.  After a pleasant down hill walk I could see the Museum's light as a comforting beacon to me and shortly after that, I was inside.  The 55 degrees or so it was inside felt like heaven.  

I unpacked and dried out my gear with the little radiator heater and started my day.

Looking a little tired, but none the worse for wear

It was good to get a feel of sleeping, hiking and living in a cold environment.  It raises your respect for your gear (and Mother Nature) and gives you ideas where you can improve things.  Knowing that I was only a little over a mile from shelter felt good, but I can only imagine what the day would have been like if I had to travel all day and deal with still wet gear the next evening.  But that will be a test for another day.

Keep on hiking,
EarthTone

"Back" to the Basics

My back did its trick again this week. It hasn't gone out this bad in quite a while. On Wednesday morning I was washing my hands in the restroom and all of a sudden, "pop" went my back. It was pretty bad and I had to hunker down a bit until I could stand up and limp to my desk. It was so bad I called medical and got an appointment for 12:30.

I got some drugs to help me get through this episode and will be doing some physical therapy soon. I went home a little early and didn't go in today (Thursday). Today will be all about staying medicated and doing hourly stretches to try and get everything aligned again. These things usually clear up in a few days, but the haze of the drugs should help bear the pain.

I'm not sure I will be able to play wallyball this Friday, but I still hope to.