Another Race Against the Clock

November 11, I went for a long awaited hike in my local canyons (Aliso and Wood). This time I set out only a few hours before sunset. So, it was another race against the clock, which meant no dillydallying, no stopping, no exploring, just constant moving to avoid being caught out in the dark. I Marched right past The Rock that sheds tears without even noticing and arrived back at my truck after 9.5 miles about 20 minutes after sunset -- just as the sky turned black. Good times! When I arrived home, I did a control fall out of the truck and stumbled into the house so warn out and trashed I was.These are the days!

Santa Catalina Island ~ 42 miles across the seaLooking back at Old Saddleback

Meadows Trail

Toyon berriesCrossing Wood Creek

I turned suddenly around to find Wiley Coyote sneaking upLooking healthy

Happy Thanksgiving!

Proof of Autumn

A fortnight ago (October 28), I took my first autumn hike of the year. The joy set in less than 1.5 miles up the trail. Joy almost always sets in. And a mile and a half is about normal. I always wonder at that point why I’m not out there every day!

Anyway, I’ve been telling myself, “Wait for fall, then you can go out and enjoy the trails. When you see the crawdads, you will know the time is right!” Of course, I headed off to Wood Canyon (Aliso Viejo, CA) to see for myself. It’s become sort of a ritual over the years. And so, I was not surprised to witness crawdads fighting at the bottom of the creek. The chilly mornings kind of assured me that I’d find them there.

Proof of Autumn!

I hiked the big loop – that is the outside trails forming a loop (West Ridge on the way out, Wood Canyon on the way back, Cholla and Meadows Trail connecting them). The big loop was a totally irresponsible thing to do in my shape. But I did it anyway, knowing full well it would trash me. Turns out, I fared the 9.5 miles surprisingly well. And on top of spotting my crawdads, I saw several dear, including a three point buck. Then on my hike out of the canyon, I passed The Rock. It came out of nowhere, as I often walk by it with little consequence. Today, I stopped, climbed up and sat. And the tears instantly fell like a waterfall. I felt like I sat among ghosts up there on that boulder, me and my three young children, so long ago. I don’t even remember if I relished the moment back then as it occurred. I hope I enjoyed it as much as I miss it.

So, my first hike of autumn – that’s it in a nutshell. I can still hike 9.5 hilly miles and for that I am grateful!

The Benefits of Painting (& how it’s kinda like trails)

Most people who have read Mark Twain’s Adventures of Tom Sawyer (or who have seen a movie adaptation) might think that Tom gets the better end of the deal when he charges a fee for the privilege of whitewashing Aunt Polly’s fence. Tom ends up with a  a pocketful of riches – some marbles, a few tadpoles and a dead rat to name a few, as well as, a painted fence. But at what cost?

I’m not about to go into a spiel about how we can all probably benefit from hard work or about how accepting one’s punishment (painting the fence was Tom’s) builds character. I’m referring to the cost of what Tom lost: all that tranquil time, solitude, just he, himself and his maker, for hours on end – that very thing I yearn for when I set out toward the sunrise, when I hike for five hours only to turn around and hike back down. A subtle similarity exists between my aimless wandering in the wild and the mundane task of painting, so subtle, I’m not sure I can even explain it.

Maybe I’m just weird that way, always searching for a secret place. If I can’t get out and make the trek, I’ll find it around me, even in the mundane. So, I’ve been painting my house over the past month: scraping, patching, priming, caulking, painting. I’ve been climbing up and down ladders, sitting, standing, stretching with a paint brush in hand all at a snail’s pace, little by little, covering our little beach cottage. I do this for hours at a time, silent, without listening to music or anything else for that matter, except for the wind, distant neighborhood noises and  my thoughts. But it’s not like I’m consciously thinking. No, I’m observing thoughts, as they somethings fly and sometimes, meander in. I don’t usually follow the thoughts anywhere (as that would be altering this state). Instead, I merely observe my thoughts, as I dip my brush into the paint. These are not not deep thoughts, more like fleeting thoughts as they drift in and out. And hence come the tiny revelations, or brilliant insights, or some kind of connectiveness and understanding somehow emerges. Like I mentioned, I can’t really explain it. But I can say, that painting has done this for me, and perhaps Tom Sawyer missed out. Yes, he got a pocketful of treasures (just imagine what he could do with that dead rat!) but whilst he counted his treasures, he missed out on tiny, wonderous, fleeting revelations that comes with painting.

And then I clean up, and go for a walkabout – got to keep my legs moving so I’m ready for the mountains when the weather cools down! By then I should be finished painting (or not).

Walk About

Thankful

I don’t mean to brag but my left arm now has 95% of its full motion back. It’s been about eight months since my slide down those slippery rocks in Holy Jim Canyon. I feared that I’d never get full range back. Now I’m confident that day is around the corner. As long as I don’t re-injure. And so, I tread carefully, very carefully.

Got in a hike last Friday (8/26) before this current heat wave. A nice and easy hike, about 2.25 miles each way, to sit silently for an hour. So thankful I can still do this.

 

Friday’s hike out to a secret place