August 20. Hikeathon Day 2. Turtleback Preserve.
Monday, August 20, Hikeathon Day 2. Turtleback Preserve. 15,79 miles. 3039 ft elev. gain.
Dear Trail Friends,
I have noticed a pattern in which the first day on the trail surprises me with joy and ease and then the second and third day hit me over the head with a 2x4. After that, though hiking is difficult, the joy and wonder sparkle through to make it all much much more than worth it.
Today the second day pattern was compounded by smoke. Though I did not think the air quality was too bad, I knew it was worse than yesterday. I came home to learn it was at the "unhealthy to all" level, and I wasn't surprised because by 11am or so I began to feel lousy - weak, lurching, dizzy, trembling muscles, galloping heart – especially on the hot uphill sections once the sun was overhead.
Nevertheless, it was an important hike for me and I am feeling great regret that I will need to postpone the next hike, probably until Thursday, until air quality improves.
Speaking of regrets, they - along with letting go – were the major themes of today's hike. I don't know why the smoke made me think of regrets. There was something about its presence, the way it got in the way of seeing clearly, and created a gray pall over everything – that made me think of regrets. Photo 1 shows the smokey view from Ship's Peak, one of my favorite views from the Preserve which has a lot of spectacular views (but today was not the day for enjoying them.)
I wish I could show you the view on a clear day so you could compare them. But I am grateful to the way in which the presence of smoke led to contemplation of regrets. In particular, I reflected on my regrets with respect to my niece Angel.
I happen to be reading an Anthony Trollope novel (I have become a Trollope addict this summer, having read all the Palliser novels, and now almost through all the Barsetshire series) in which a woman character (of whom both I and the author of quite fond) refuses to give up her love for a man who turned out to be a scoundrel (though I must say that in Trollope's novels - one of the things I love - is that the scoundrels are also good guys, and the good guys are also scoundrels - he has his favorites, as do I, but he really shows how ambivalent real human beings are). The novel makes clear how her inability to let go keeps her from moving on, reinvesting all that juicy love energy, and making a happy life for herself and others. I was struck that regrets are like that. I hold onto them, and they keep my passion tangled up in the past (and how it could have, should have, been different) and don't allow me to move forward.
I though a lot about the theme of letting go, and what makes it hard for me to let go - of my regrets, and of my dreams of how life might have been. Eight hours of hiking (plus an hour plus of rest time) is a lot of time to think about letting go.
By the time the hike was coming to an end, I had decided to celebrate Angel's birthday by releasing helium balloons from the top of Mt. Constitution (where I had hoped to hike tomorrow, but will have to settle for driving, given the air quality). Photo 2 shows the balloons I got on the way home from my hike.
The pink balloons represent for me the party, with a very pink birthday cake that Angel loved from Madonna Inn, that my sister Judy will have tomorrow to celebrate Angel's birthday. They also represent for me Angel herself, and her relationships with people she loved and was loved by. The green balloon represents dreams (Angel's dreams for her life, and the dreams of those who loved her) and the blue balloon represents regrets (Angel's own regrets, and the regrets of those who loved her). That's a lot to let go of, and I don't think I can do so just by releasing the balloons and watching them float off into the sky. But its a start, and its a way of making my intention visible and palpable to that part of me that most resists letting go.
I don't have much more to say. Even though it was a hard day it had its own kind of wonder and maybe a few photos will help share that with you. Oh! I forgot that I wanted to show you where I hiked today. Photo 3 is a map of the island showing my hike in the preserve. Moran Park and yesterday's hike are in the east side of the island, including both of large the lakes (which is also where Chris and I live, a 5 minute drive from Moran Park). Turtleback is on the west side. Today's walk began at the north entrance (in the east), and visited all the view points looking north, then went to Turtlehead in the west, and made its way around some loops eventually winding up at the south entrance, and then back.
Just before arriving at the south entrance, one enters a lush area with a rain forest feel and then crosses a small creek (dry right now as everything is this hot summer with no rain). Photo 4 shows the lush area.
When I reached the south entrance, a young family was emerging from a VW Westphalia van. I love those old vans, and said so to the father. Then I added that I loved his sweatshirt (a NASA sweatshirt that said "I love my space.") He said his daughter gave it to him. Then I met his daughter. She had her kitten (13 weeks old, she told me, after pausing to carefully add them up) on a leash. She explained that she hasn't fully trained her yet, but that she training her to join them on hikes. Photo 5 shows this young girl with her cat. What does any of this have to do with smoke and regrets? I don't know. Maybe its what I see when I am not thinking about smoke and regrets.
Notice the autumn leaves in the photo. There's that theme of letting go, again.
Okay. Just two more photos. Probably my favorite tree in the whole world, the Madrona with its curving limbs and rich red bark, and my favorite time of year for the Madrona (when the red bark peels away and exposes the smooth sensual chartreuse skin underneath) is the star of photo 6.
The last photo for today, photo 7, celebrates the feelings I have about trees as I hike. I am moved by the way they seem at times to be involved in a slow dance with the trail itself, how they fall into each other's "arms," how the roots of a tree seem to meander down the trail, echoing the curves in the trail itself, how dead wood forms itself into serpent and rhino and various supernatural heads and, in this photo, how this leg of this piece of wood seems to be rubbing itself sensually against the other branch.
And what does all this have to do with smoke and regrets? I guess just that I don't want to let the smoke of the world (literal and symbolic) and my regrets (and dreams for the past that can never come true) blind me to the beauty all around me. I am so grateful for the way the trail can awaken me to what really matters in life, and I am so grateful to be able to write this blog (the only reason I can write it is because I imagine you reading it) and by writing it, I discover what the trail means to me. A thousand thank yous.
Hope to see you on the trail soon, when the smoke clears.
Dear Trail Friends,
I have noticed a pattern in which the first day on the trail surprises me with joy and ease and then the second and third day hit me over the head with a 2x4. After that, though hiking is difficult, the joy and wonder sparkle through to make it all much much more than worth it.
Today the second day pattern was compounded by smoke. Though I did not think the air quality was too bad, I knew it was worse than yesterday. I came home to learn it was at the "unhealthy to all" level, and I wasn't surprised because by 11am or so I began to feel lousy - weak, lurching, dizzy, trembling muscles, galloping heart – especially on the hot uphill sections once the sun was overhead.
Nevertheless, it was an important hike for me and I am feeling great regret that I will need to postpone the next hike, probably until Thursday, until air quality improves.
Speaking of regrets, they - along with letting go – were the major themes of today's hike. I don't know why the smoke made me think of regrets. There was something about its presence, the way it got in the way of seeing clearly, and created a gray pall over everything – that made me think of regrets. Photo 1 shows the smokey view from Ship's Peak, one of my favorite views from the Preserve which has a lot of spectacular views (but today was not the day for enjoying them.)
I wish I could show you the view on a clear day so you could compare them. But I am grateful to the way in which the presence of smoke led to contemplation of regrets. In particular, I reflected on my regrets with respect to my niece Angel.
I happen to be reading an Anthony Trollope novel (I have become a Trollope addict this summer, having read all the Palliser novels, and now almost through all the Barsetshire series) in which a woman character (of whom both I and the author of quite fond) refuses to give up her love for a man who turned out to be a scoundrel (though I must say that in Trollope's novels - one of the things I love - is that the scoundrels are also good guys, and the good guys are also scoundrels - he has his favorites, as do I, but he really shows how ambivalent real human beings are). The novel makes clear how her inability to let go keeps her from moving on, reinvesting all that juicy love energy, and making a happy life for herself and others. I was struck that regrets are like that. I hold onto them, and they keep my passion tangled up in the past (and how it could have, should have, been different) and don't allow me to move forward.
I though a lot about the theme of letting go, and what makes it hard for me to let go - of my regrets, and of my dreams of how life might have been. Eight hours of hiking (plus an hour plus of rest time) is a lot of time to think about letting go.
By the time the hike was coming to an end, I had decided to celebrate Angel's birthday by releasing helium balloons from the top of Mt. Constitution (where I had hoped to hike tomorrow, but will have to settle for driving, given the air quality). Photo 2 shows the balloons I got on the way home from my hike.
The pink balloons represent for me the party, with a very pink birthday cake that Angel loved from Madonna Inn, that my sister Judy will have tomorrow to celebrate Angel's birthday. They also represent for me Angel herself, and her relationships with people she loved and was loved by. The green balloon represents dreams (Angel's dreams for her life, and the dreams of those who loved her) and the blue balloon represents regrets (Angel's own regrets, and the regrets of those who loved her). That's a lot to let go of, and I don't think I can do so just by releasing the balloons and watching them float off into the sky. But its a start, and its a way of making my intention visible and palpable to that part of me that most resists letting go.
I don't have much more to say. Even though it was a hard day it had its own kind of wonder and maybe a few photos will help share that with you. Oh! I forgot that I wanted to show you where I hiked today. Photo 3 is a map of the island showing my hike in the preserve. Moran Park and yesterday's hike are in the east side of the island, including both of large the lakes (which is also where Chris and I live, a 5 minute drive from Moran Park). Turtleback is on the west side. Today's walk began at the north entrance (in the east), and visited all the view points looking north, then went to Turtlehead in the west, and made its way around some loops eventually winding up at the south entrance, and then back.
Just before arriving at the south entrance, one enters a lush area with a rain forest feel and then crosses a small creek (dry right now as everything is this hot summer with no rain). Photo 4 shows the lush area.
When I reached the south entrance, a young family was emerging from a VW Westphalia van. I love those old vans, and said so to the father. Then I added that I loved his sweatshirt (a NASA sweatshirt that said "I love my space.") He said his daughter gave it to him. Then I met his daughter. She had her kitten (13 weeks old, she told me, after pausing to carefully add them up) on a leash. She explained that she hasn't fully trained her yet, but that she training her to join them on hikes. Photo 5 shows this young girl with her cat. What does any of this have to do with smoke and regrets? I don't know. Maybe its what I see when I am not thinking about smoke and regrets.
Notice the autumn leaves in the photo. There's that theme of letting go, again.
Okay. Just two more photos. Probably my favorite tree in the whole world, the Madrona with its curving limbs and rich red bark, and my favorite time of year for the Madrona (when the red bark peels away and exposes the smooth sensual chartreuse skin underneath) is the star of photo 6.
The last photo for today, photo 7, celebrates the feelings I have about trees as I hike. I am moved by the way they seem at times to be involved in a slow dance with the trail itself, how they fall into each other's "arms," how the roots of a tree seem to meander down the trail, echoing the curves in the trail itself, how dead wood forms itself into serpent and rhino and various supernatural heads and, in this photo, how this leg of this piece of wood seems to be rubbing itself sensually against the other branch.
And what does all this have to do with smoke and regrets? I guess just that I don't want to let the smoke of the world (literal and symbolic) and my regrets (and dreams for the past that can never come true) blind me to the beauty all around me. I am so grateful for the way the trail can awaken me to what really matters in life, and I am so grateful to be able to write this blog (the only reason I can write it is because I imagine you reading it) and by writing it, I discover what the trail means to me. A thousand thank yous.
Hope to see you on the trail soon, when the smoke clears.
River - Your smoke makes me think of the shades in the underworld, or other spirits hovering. The madrona description and picture brought back that smoothness under my hand as I stroked each one along trails in California. And Trollope, Oh, Lily, he’s no good for you. Thank you.
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