An Extended Fast (& finally a hike!)

I wish it wasn’t so hot, and it’s not even that hot! But it is for me. So heat sensitive I am in my older years (though I’m still in my fifties), I’ve been off the trails much of August. Just ten years ago I was exploring trails in 105 F degree weather. Right now it’s in the low 80s at most on the Southern California coast. Just a few miles inland the temperatures climb double digits. I walk here and there around town, and it’s lovely, but it’s also the middle of summer which means this seaside town is crowded with tourists. I’d rather stay more to myself these days. We are after all, still in a pandemic.

Last week I felt that the time was right for an extended fast. It had been a while, and so I was excited leading up to it. My eagerness was similar to anticipating an ultramarathon or a long difficult hike. I felt excited because I knew that I was going to come out of it a little more grounded and a little more focused on what’s really important. But at the same time, just like with ultramarathons, or long difficult hikes, I felt some anxiety – anxiety because I knew that the feat takes some suffering – it’s kind of a joyful suffering really (just like with ultras or crazy difficult terrain). But suffering is suffering, whether or not it’s joyful, it’s hard.

The first 24 hours of the fast was relatively easy, as it is usually (because I’ve practiced). The first day is a day of excitement, a day I begin a journey. It’s like a fresh start. It’s also like a day of reckoning, a day where I focus on prayer, reading, listening to music, working (because I have a job ) and some chores. One of the first things you will notice if you fast is how much time you have on your hands. There’s no meal prep, there’s no sitting down to eat, ever. That adds hours to the day. And then, I have even more time because fasting for some reason causes me to rise from bed one to two hours earlier than normal.

The second 24 hours was the most difficult mentally as it always is for me during a 72 hour fast. Day two is like walking past the scaredy-cat gate while in line for a roller coaster. It would be so easy to go ahead and satisfy my hunger and just do this some other time. During this second day, mornings aren’t a problem as I never eat in the morning. By the time afternoon comes around my stomach grumbles here and there. The stomach grumblings are surprisingly short lived. It’s evening that is most difficult on this second day. I feel physically strong but mentally weak. I try to wear myself out with my focuses. Day two is actually  ideal for a hike. But I didn’t that this time. Instead I added a good deal more focus to my work, as I’m coming to the end of Summer semester.   

The third day is no longer mentally challenging because it’s the last day of the fast. It feels somewhat akin to running that last third of a race, barring anything disastrous, I’ll be finishing this race. I can look ahead with relief.

The hours really drag on in day three. And while I feel mentally strong, I begin to grow physically weak in the final fasting hours. The third day is not a good day to go for a hike or even grocery shopping (because of the heavy lifting), though I’ve done both. This time I took it easy and eased on into the finish line. I completed in the evening, with 72 hours ending around 7pm Friday evening, August 6. I broke the fast with chicken bone broth (with ginger and tumeric). A little later I consumed scrambled eggs and some cucumber pasta salad my husband made. I should have probably ate a banana or some electrolyte pills because as usual, my legs and feet cramped while I slept that night. Ouch. That needs to be avoided. During this fast I drank lots of Propel water which has electrolytes but obviously not enough. Aside from the slight electrolyte thing (I’ve placed an order for SaltStick), I didn’t have any adverse affects. The next day, I felt renewed and a little more grounded by the fasting experience. I was primed for a hike – what a perfect day to hike!  And it was (except for the heat).

Originally I planned to hike Black Star Canyon. Imagine me thinking that I could handle Black Star in the August heat. But then something came up and I wanted to stay where I had cell service. I drove up the coast and continued on up a windy road to Top of the Word in Laguna Beach. It was late morning when I parked my truck at the park up there. The weather was chilly. We were socked in even on the ridge overlooking Laguna Beach. Yes, I’ve been complaining about the heat, but sometimes our mornings are pretty chilly, even in August (we’re lucky that way.)

I hiked down to the bottom of the canyon from Top of the World. And then I made a small climb up to a great little secret place. The clouds had dispersed by then and boy did it warm up, especially during those rocky uphill sessions with no shade. I hung out at my spot in the nice cool shade, enjoying the views for a good 90 minutes before heading back out. The climb back up to the ridge and then to my truck was hell but well worth the excruciating trouble. (A little bit of that joyful suffering)

In all, I hiked a little over five miles in these hot coastal hills. Upon returning home I noticed that for the first time in a long time, my skin was crusted with salt. I told my husband, “If you hear me say I’m going to Black Star Canyon, and it’s still summertime, don’t let me go!” (As if!)

Looking forward to summer moving on!

The COVID19 Disruption

March 26 was the last time I hit the trails. I think that I didn't blog it because I'm too sentimental about it. To write a blog post means to miss my old life. My life before the COVID19 pandemic. And I don't really want to think about it. I don't want to think about the medicine that I've been missing since shelter-in-place was ordered. (It makes me sad; I'd rather not be sad.)

The last day I drove to work was Thursday, March 13 -- my last day of teaching before spring break. It was raining. We were in strange times, masks and gloves on about a quarter of the people on campus, but malls were still open, as were bars and restaurants. Still on that last day on campus, March 13, I was so naive to how things were going to drastically change. I remember it was cold, and I was wet from the rain even though I had an umbrella. The mood about campus was anxious. I filled my truck with gas a couple days after that. More than a month later, I still have a half tank. In my old life, I filled my tank about every 5 days. Now, I work from home, recording lectures and holding a computer "lab" online. I no longer drive 50 to 60 miles a day. 

My husband has worked from the home office for years now. And other than not having to drive the boys to their stuff in the afternoon, his life has not changed much. My parents' lives have not changed as well, but most everyone I know, my 3 sons, a freshman and senior in high school, and a junior in college, included are experiencing a major disruption.  

I have not been having that great of a time working from home, especially with trails out of reach. This is not to say that I don't enjoy all this extra time with my family. I do. It's wonderful, and there are lots of great talks and strolls around the yard. But my classroom is my kitchen. And there are unique challenges to Zoom lectures and email correspondence. To top that, the first week home my computer crashed. I had to purchase a new one, which was not in the budget. A few weeks later, my iphone was stolen out of my purse while I shopped for groceries. That hurt.

People are anxious. I am anxious. On the good side, as of now, everyone in my family, both immediate and extended are well. California has been on "shelter-in-place" since March 20. The moods have been tense since. At first, we were allowed to take hikes in the mountains and bike rides and such on the beach. Eventually, all those options have been shut down. I stopped hiking well before the local governments and forest service made it impossible by closing down roads, parking lots and trail heads. I have not hit the trails for nearly 4 weeks! I've had some small walk-abouts in the neighborhood. But that's it. And this is my greatest suffering point. It would help me a good deal to have the medicine that satisfying wanderlust amply provides. I don't have it; I look elsewhere for refuge.  Some good and some not so good.  I have since washed all the hardwood floors of our beach shack and then moved onto shampooing carpets (they were disgusting.)  I washed the walls, the bookshelves and cabinets. I weeded the planters and washed out the bird feeders (Oh, did they need it!). I began purging papers from the office/library. I haul out a garbage bag full every week. I really have neglected these things for so long, it's shameful. Normally, I'd go for a hike and process that with a positive note. I haven't processed my neglect with a positive note yet.

I suppose to remedy the minor existential crises this shelter-in-place order brought on, I force myself every day to make my surroundings better.  I cut flowers in the backyard for a kitchen bouquet. I have the boys sweep the porches and mow the lawns. I prune plants and remove wilted Calla Lily, Camilla and Birds of Paradise blooms. I feel oddly driven to do these things. I am driven to do them because it covers up how I feel that I'm failing intellectually, physically and spiritually right now. I've assigned myself some exercises. Not physical exercises (where I am drastically lacking), but instead intellectual and spiritual exercises. Aside from beautifying my surroundings, I began reading (once my great love) -- one book of fiction and the other non-fiction. Every morning I begin with my reading (and a cup of coffee). And after that, I make my bed. 

I have done all these things to try and substitute the medicine that trails provide (which too, is only a temporary remedy to the anxious-spiritually-struggling life that I keep finding myself at). I have always had this need to feel that I am moving forward. Shelter-in-place is perhaps as close as you can get to the opposite of moving forward, thus the manic reaction to beautifying my surroundings at home. There is a lot of beauty here at home too. Aside from the small little seaside yard and a peek of the ocean from the front porch, there's my family. It's good to be with them. (Though I still await seeing my oldest son who is in Ventura County.) I guess that I am rambling now, and really should get back to the purpose of this blog overall -- trails.

So, back to  my original intent for this post, it was March 26, as I have already mentioned and we were 6 days into shelter-in-place, but exercise was clearly allowed and even encouraged. I had read that amenities and parking lots would be closed at Aliso/Woods Canyons but that the trails would be open. Lack of parking lot has never stopped me. And so, I set out in the late morning, to a lesser known entrance to Aliso/Woods. Turned out, the city of Laguna Beach had closed all trail heads in the city, and I had to sneak into the park (which was open). It was not difficult by the way to sneak in. The person patrolling the closed trail heads, (I heard a city volunteer) had driven away by the time I made it to Meadows trail head, and by the time she returned, I was already well into the park (but I am fairly certain she had to have seen me from her vantage point upon return).

I hiked more than 10 miles, beginning in Moulton Meadows Park, down Meadows Trail to Wood Canyon, Cholla, West Ridge and Top of the World. At first, the trails were empty and I began to doubt the legality of my presence.  But once in Wood Canyon, I counted thirty or more hikers, runners and bikers over a 5 or 6 mile stretch. The park mind you is 4,500 acres, so even with 30 plus people, I had much time alone. About three-quarters into Wood Canyon I hiked off trail to the ladies room in a wooded area. And there in the deep shade, I stumbled upon a bob cat who froze for a second and promptly took off further into the brush. Back on the trail, about a 1/4 mile later, I spun around abruptly with hunch I was being followed. Sure enough, I spied a coyote trotting in my direction! Once he realized I had stopped, he was off the other way.

My last hike was a lovely one and much needed. When I arrived to Alta Laguna Park, I found myself fenced in and had to climb out. A few others were doing the same. The road was crowded with cars since the lots were locked shut. There were were a couple of police squad cars driving about, and city workers were posting "No Parking" signs. I enjoyed my last couple of miles back to my truck like I would a last cookie. I knew this would be my last hike in a while. As I made my way back down into the park, near Meadows trail, I could see the city truck patrolling the area right in my path, "I'm in for it," I thought and plugged forward ready to face the music. But the truck thankfully, had just driven off before I arrived. I was relieved to not have a confrontation. I haven't been out since, and that is not a good thing. Who knows though, maybe in the long run, it will be.

A View of Saddleback Mountains from top of Meadows Trail, Laguna Beach

View of the Pacific Ocean, Near West Ridge (Laguna Beach)

Looking down onto Meadows Trail, Aliso Viejo

 

 10.41 miles, 1,731 ft of elevation gain