Archives for category: solo hiking

I am sitting at the trailhead, waiting for the sun. I’m not in any hurry, and it’s a cold morning. I’ll enjoy the walk more, watching the sun rise, so I am waiting for daybreak before I get started down the trail. Already there is the faintest smudge of something lighter than darkness on the horizon. Soon.

I woke to my artificial sunrise “alarm”, this morning, quite disoriented and confused about what day it is. It was several minutes before I remembered that it’s Saturday, and that I am enjoying a day off work. I was deeply asleep when the lights came on, and confused about the timing. It’s mornings like this that having a well-practiced routine matters most; I just continued through the morning one task at a time until my brain fully woke and I understood.

There’s a sliver of crescent moon visible to the south. Rising? Setting? I’m really not certain, and it moves rather slowly. It seems the sort of thing I should “just know”, perhaps. I don’t really care presently, and my curiosity is fleeting. My attention returns to the eastern horizon, and the hint of daylight developing there. I breathe, exhale, and relax, and give myself this uncomplicated moment of real peace. Moments like these are important to my emotional health and mental wellness. It’s necessary to “recharge my batteries” in anticipation of more complicated or difficult moments – and there will reliably be more of those, eventually. This is a very human experience. Change is. Thoughts are complicated by feelings. I sit with that awhile. It’s tempting sometimes to demonize emotions, but I’ve found that although thoughts may inform and guide us, our emotions are what enrich and define our experience. How we handle our emotions (and the emotions of others) defines our character.

I think about stormier times in my life when I was less able to manage (and respect) my emotions. I’ve come a long way. I smile to myself. I’m still 100% made of human. That’s as it should be. Time and practice, experience and self-reflection, have brought me a long way down my path. A worthy journey, and some days it feels like I’ve barely begun.

I glance at that sliver of moon again. Definitely rising. I smile to myself, feeling the promise and potential of a new day. There will be verbs involved, and no one can walk my path for me. We’re each having our own experience – and the journey is the destination. I think about a far away friend having his own difficulties in life and love, and silently wish him well. (Dude, this too will pass. Take care of yourself. Put a couple quiet solitary miles on those boots, and take some time for self-reflection.)

There’s a bold orange streak along the eastern horizon now. I sigh quietly, smile at the rising sun, and lace up my boots. Looks like time to begin again.

I woke feeling much better this morning, to the sound of the very irritating alarm that reminds me to take my morning medication, which goes off a couple hours after I am usually up. I groaned quietly and silenced it quickly, hoping not to wake anyone. I got up, dressed, and made coffee for my Traveling Partner to enjoy when he wakes, appreciative of the heated mug that makes that possible.

I headed out happily, eager to be on the trail, aware that my rare sleeping in and late start this morning means I’ll be walking the trail at dawn, enjoying the sunrise. It’ll be weeks more before that’s a regular experience. The bitter cold hit my face and filled my lungs before I even got to the car. It’s another cold one.

A sliver of moon, a winter morning.

When I got to the trailhead, I wasted no time putting on my boots, and wrapping up in my scarf, hat, fleece, and gloves, and grabbing my cane. I started down the trail with nothing else on my mind but the trail ahead and the dawn on the horizon.

My footsteps crunched along the frozen path. The frosty marsh grasses sparkled as I passed. The marsh ponds were frozen along the edges, the smallest of them frozen all the way across. The sky was streaked with abalone pink, and the air was quite still. Even the flocks of geese passing overhead were silent.

Further along the path, oaks stand watch.

I walked the trail without much on my mind this morning. Breathing the cold winter air, grateful for the solitude. Some mornings I walk with my thoughts, this morning I just walked, watching the dawn become a new day. It was too cold to take many pictures, and it was lovely to simply walk and be, focused on the moment, present in the marsh around me, without preoccupation or concern. The world can wait. These moments were mine.

I walked on, cherishing the familiar miles. Grateful for this beautiful place to walk. Content and joyful, and satisfied with my life as it is, and feeling a little foolish to ever doubt or feel discontented when I am so fortunate. I breathed the winter air, and exhaled my warm breath as a fog. I relaxed as I walked on, present in the moment I was living and feeling pretty good in spite of the humdrum reality of physical pain. The joyous moment seemed quite sufficient and then some.

I returned to the car, ready to begin again. Grateful for the lovely morning, the beautiful sunrise, and the life I am so fortunate to live. It isn’t “perfect”, but it’s definitely enough.

… Later I go get my hearing aids…

I arrive at the trailhead before dawn. Already, the sun rises earlier and I’ll likely see it as I reach the end of my hike. One last breakfast with The Author before he returns home and life settles back into something like a routine (after a flurry of doctor’s appointments). This morning is not an unpleasant one, nonetheless I feel uneasy; it is inauguration day. The start of Trump II, and I’m not reluctant to admit that I am concerned about the outcome(s).

… I have my own thoughts answering the question “how the fuck did we get here?, but I’m sure everyone does, and mine are perhaps best left for another time…

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and pull myself back to this quiet, pleasant, moment right here, on the edge of a favorite trail, a few minutes before daybreak. Another breath. I’m in a lot of pain this morning. It’s just my arthritis; the weather is quite cold and my pain is reliably worse in cold weather. (This is the likely cause – or one of them – for so many people moving to sunny warm places to spend their retirement years.) I’ve got my cane. I put on gloves and scarf. I’ll warm up as I walk. My pain will be both improved and worsened when I get back to the car. My osteoarthritis stiffness and pain will have eased some with movement. The pain in my left ankle and right knee will increase with each step. I snarl something irritable at past versions of myself for not taking better care of this fragile vessel – then remind myself to practice better self-care, myself, now, too.

…Time keeps passing. Aging is

Still. Things could be worse. I passed several homeless people walking their carts of belongings down frosted sidewalks on this icy cold morning. I am fortunate to be housed, warm and secure. I’ve got good healthcare coverage (for many values of good, though limited by our 100% craptacular US healthcare system) – I can (and should) continue to work with my (new)(good) physician to improve my health and manage my pain more effectively. My Traveling Partner’s care is also in pretty good hands, and we have each other’s support and care, too. Things could definitely be worse. We never know when they might be.

I lace my boots, and think my thoughts, before I hit the trail. Martin Luther King Jr Day, today. I wonder what that means to people… Shouldn’t it be more than just a day off from work? I think about the ways in which the world has changed since I was a child, in the early 60’s… Pretty significant changes, mostly profoundly good, but often seeming “not enough” – how is there even any discussion over the Equal Rights Amendment? It’s 2025, how are we still at war? How are poverty, disease, and inequality still major, noteworthy, progress impeding, concerns around the world? How are there still people who want to work but can’t find jobs? How are there people who want to dedicate their lives to creative endeavors but can’t find (or afford to take) the time?

I sigh to myself. I’ll walk with my thoughts awhile, solve nothing (but maybe learn something about myself), and then begin again.

This morning is cold and foggy. I slept in (for some values of “sleeping in”), and still arrived at my selected trailhead well before dawn. This trail is lit for much of the distance I walk, but beyond the vineyard, near the river, I still needed my headlamp. I’ve been, and returned, and it is still quite dark, though there is a hint of daybreak on the horizon. It’s not yet visible from the lit area of the trail, or the parking lot. The new artificial lights are much too bright.

A walk through winter fog.

The morning is foggier than I expected, and somewhat warmer (still quite cold, near freezing). The fog makes everything seem quieter and more mysterious in the darkness. I see the headlights of workers arriving to a nearby construction sight, filtered through the fog, before I hear the sounds of their pick-up trucks. I’m okay with that. The dance of the lights over irregular pavement is fascinating, and I don’t care for the noise at all. I walked and watched with wonder, alone with my thoughts.

The Author arrives later this morning. 10:30 or so, though I’m not certain whether that means to the house or at the airport. I didn’t ask for clarification – I guess I’ll know soon enough. lol I’m excited about this visit from a dear long-time friend. It happens too rarely. I think of other far away friends and wonder whether to plan a trip to see some of them in the summer? I wonder whether my Traveling Partner will be up to being without me for a week…or in shape to go with me?

I sit quietly with my thoughts. The sky is beginning to be a hue of deep gray-blue, visibly no longer “night”. A new day. There are things to do, and a visit with a friend to look forward to. I consider getting a coffee somewhere nearby, but I am just as content to sit here, watching the sky slowly lighten as dawn unfolds. G’damn, sometimes I am such a simple and easily satisfied creature. I chuckle quietly to myself. I’m okay with it.

A new day begins.

… It’s time to begin again.

So, the tl;dr on the visit to the new doctor is that I have a new doctor, and feel pretty well cared for, and one result is a renewed feeling of commitment to my health, generally, and less frustration and fewer feelings of futility about the work involved in being in good health. I’ve got a way to go, and there’s work to do. Predictably enough, I got pretty lax about things like my diet over the holiday season. Time to return to good practices and healthy choices, and there are a bunch of fucking verbs involved. lol

I spent some time this morning, over my black coffee (iced, no sugar) thinking about diet, nutrition, exercise, and cooking for a family while also staying focused on my own needs (and limitations). There are some foods I really like, that I can’t have (or have to limit very strictly), and that just has to be a practical part of the day-to-day without fussing or frustration. Examples? Cheese. Butter. Sugar. Non-nutritive carbs. Those are the biggies. I definitely enjoy cheese…and if I’m having cheese, I probably want that on a cracker… which are purely empty carbs with added sugar. So… no. Butter? Damn, I like cooking with butter. I don’t like the results with butter substitutes, and some recipes don’t turn out quite as well using oil – even healthy oil like avocado or olive. So… yeah. Butter needs to go, too, at least on my meals. Sugar? Just being real, that shit’s basically poison to me. I don’t need to be convinced. The hard part isn’t giving up gummy sweets (which I do really like) – the hard part is strictly limiting fruits to appropriate, measured, controlled, limited portions. These necessary restrictions don’t exactly leave me starving for flavorful meals. lol I’m not that fussy an eater, and I really like squash, and spinach, and eggs, and lean chicken, and broccoli, and beans, and nuts, and salads… so… yeah. Change is. I just have to do the work and demonstrate the commitment and the discipline, and I know that I feel better when I do. Choices.

So… there’s that…

Then… I need to do a little more, and do it a little faster. Basically, I need to make a point to burn those calories. lol I walk – but I’m not walking at the brisk pace I once did. I’m more… ambling along pleasantly enjoying the scenery. I’m in pain, and pushing harder isn’t easy. I’m grateful to be walking at all. Still, it’s time to pick up the pace and make real gains in strength. My doctor was frank with me, and also kind and encouraging. I know I’ve got this – it’s just that there really are verbs involved, and I’ve really got to do them for myself. Maybe that means on some days throwing in an extra walk, just around the neighborhood, at a proper quick pace with my cane and without taking pictures of flowers? I can easily get a mile or more in 20 minutes if I maintain a steady pace – and I know I should be able to do that without being breathless, at all. It’s worth doing. The more able I am, the more I’ll be able to do. More trails become attainable, greater distances become practical for a day hike. It’s worth the effort – and it’s okay that it will be an effort. That’s part of the point; doing the verbs.

This isn’t about new year’s resolutions, and these aren’t unexpected or unreasonable changes to need to make. I’ve been here before. I’m here again. That’s okay – it’s time, that’s all. The holidays are over and there’s work to do to be healthy and fit. Will I fail? Fuck yeah, probably; I’m very human. Will I begin again when I do? Definitely. I’ve got a goal, and a journey ahead, and it’s my path – I’ve got to walk it myself.

I smile and finish my coffee. I feel okay. I slept restlessly, and woke in pain, but neither of those things are out of the ordinary, nor do they cause me any particular concern, they’re just details to work around, and to cope with. It’s a very human experience. I’m feeling pretty encouraged and motivated. It’s time to begin again. Again.