Pinhoti 2008 Hike Video (with sound)

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8:35 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Tell me if this hurts
Current mood: optimistic

So I decided I could run 5 miles with my friend Tank..a marathon runner.  Now, he was joggling (that is to say, juggling while jogging) at the time so I figured…I can keep up with him NO PROBLEM.

The receptionist at the Orthopedics office was very friendly.  She got me in – in almost no time.  
 

"Now tell me if this hurts." 

I am laying down and he is bending my knee down as far as it can go.

"Nope"
 

"What about this"
 

Now he is pushing it towards my chest.
 

"Nope"
 

"Now I am going to push above your knee one way and below your knee another."
 

"If I just tell you it hurts now will you not try that?"
 

He chuckles as if I was joking and begins to treat my knee like a clown treats a balloon.
 

"Does it hurt when I press here."
 

"No Doc…my arms flail wildly about, I turn purple and scream at the top of my lungs this time EVERY Friday."
 

I walk out of the doctor's office with a pronounced limp and a prescription for Aleve and another for an MRI.  
 

It sounds crazy, but I really couldn't be happier.  I have never not known knee pain.  There has always been something wrong that just flares up every once in a while.  I am very happy at the prospect of finally getting a look at the inside.  Not that I relish the notion of having someone cut into a part of my body that has been so sensitive all my life.  But the idea of an answer sounds pretty good.

1:18 PM - 6 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Tea
Current mood: pensive

The first time I saw her was in the kitchen that I shared with my 5 housemates in Arlington.  She stood a little shorter than me and her dark hair, fair complexion, and mesmerizing eyes took me off-guard. She was visiting her boyfriend who rented the room next to mine.  As fate would have it, she and I shared a friend- the commonality made our first conversation easy.  And the more she visited, the easier the conversations got.  
 

I often found myself hoping to walk into the kitchen to find her standing at the island, chopping vegetables for some meal they were making, or sitting at the table, sipping from a steamy teacup and reading her Mother Jones magazine.
 

When one of my housemates moved out she took his place and I saw her almost daily.  We talked about books, movies, nature, the environment, work and politics.  We talked a lot, and usually about topics that her boyfriend didn’t care about.  
 

When her boyfriend moved to Pennsylvania for work it quickly became apparent that she was interested in something more than kitchen talks.  This is not to say that I wasn’t.  Every night I came home and looked expectantly to see if her light was on.  On more than a few nights that light switch decided my happiness or disappointment.
 

I knew she wasn’t happy with him.  He was a nice guy and goal driven… but I always felt that our talks made it painfully obvious to her that beyond attraction, she had few things in common with him.  
 

There were times when I wanted to just let go of my inhibitions and to act on all the feelings that had been steeping in me for so long.  But I couldn’t.  I knew the boyfriend.  I knew the pain and betrayal he would feel.  And I wondered if it would be me one day… walking into the kitchen to find her sipping her tea and laughing with some new housemate about some article she was reading to him.  
 

So when she told me the boyfriend was moving back, and that they were getting a place together-  I did nothing but wish her well.
 

I haven’t seen her in two years, but got an e-mail from her yesterday:
 

Things are going really well.  I moved into a new apartment in Alexandria.  I finally left [him].  I should have known sooner that he and I weren’t a good match- especially with the way I felt about you.  I should not have moved in with him knowing that.  But I finally got up the courage to be honest with him.
 

I was at work reading it.  My heart rocketed out of my chest and it felt like it was going to rip through my throat.  "Alexandria…that is only 15-20 minutes away."  Finally I would have my chance.  The opportunity to answer all of those "what ifs" and "could have beens" from this part of my life.  "How should I broach it?  This weekend maybe.  We could walk around Old Town and catch up!"   
 

I read on. 

She didn’t leave me on the hook too long.  
 

The very next paragraph:
 

In December I met this PhD student in DC.  
 

My heart dropped so quickly into the pit of my stomach, that before I realized where I was or what I was doing, I stood straight up, forcing my chair back, and made some very audible, very guttural sound that immediately attracted the attention of a work colleague.  
 

"What’s happened?"
 

I walked over to the window without answering and stared out.  I gazed at the little grassy field across the street and tried to breath myself back to balance.  
 

"It was just December when they met."
 

I am sitting in my co-worker’s office now.  She is older and very sweet.  She has a very nurturing approach when anyone is in distress as if her motherly instincts kick in.  It is somewhat soothing to me..but underneath my calm exterior, I feel the currents still churning deep inside.  
 

"You can just write her back and let her know that you are available."
 

She’s right.  It has only been a few months.  He could just be some rebound.  Calmer now, I return to the keyboard.
 

He is just wonderful.  We get along so well and I am really happy.  This may be the best thing that has ever happened to me.  
 

I wish her well, and close down my laptop.
 

Currently reading : Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Book 6) By J.K. Rowling Release date: 25 July, 2006

6:44 AM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Clearing
Current mood: infuriated

Second Manassas Battlefield

Civil War National Historic Park
 

Quite literally, bodies litter the land in all directions.  Horribly disfigured, mutated forms… Limbs torn off, broken and scattered chaotically across the ground.  So tangled, dispersed, and distorted, it is impossible to reunite the pieces to the whole.  One could walk for miles, stepping on nothing but these lifeless forms.

The landscape, gashed and scarred, is pocked by rooty craters and upturned earth.  The entire field criss-crossed by the tracks left by the death machines.  It is obscene to imagine such senseless carnage…yet here it lies, right in front of me.

"This is inhuman!" 

The only words I can muster as I search the surround for anything familiar.  In the middle of this field that I have walked through, jogged across, prayed in, and sought out for solitude for the past 12 years, -my home, my church- and I cannot even get my bearings.  But everything that I grew to know and love about this once wooded area, has now been wiped away…clear-cut.

50 yards in the distance, jutting up, atop a mound in the midst of this madness are a set of stairs that lead 15 feet up to nothing.  It is reminiscent of the now cliché news footage of the tornado slashed suburb…pane after pane of destroyed homes and in their midst.. the one house, inexplicably or providentially survives. 

I climb these steps and realize where I am… or actually, where I would have been …before. To my left is where the mixed forest of evergreens and one hundred year old deciduous trees once towered over brush, bramble, and stone.  To my right was the trail leading along a lazy stream and across a small ridge. Graded originally for a railroad that was never built the path drove straight through the woods to the site of the historic Brawner Farm. 

Now all I see is the jumbled gray and yellow of splintered wood - the jig sawed red and brown of dirt and clay.

I walk in a direction that seems to have once been the trail.  For the most part, I am completely disoriented, but every once in a while "Here is where I ran with her, the day the squall caught us.  The storm blew the trees violently and they each danced in their own direction to a different song as their leaves clapped together making a frightening hiss!"  or  "This is where I sat, on the little bench of fallen log, listening to the sparrow, robin and blue jay sing and watching the squirrels rummage for nuts amongst the leaves."  And "here is where the red fox ran into the trail right in front of me, freezing at the sight of me, gazing at me for a moment before fleeing, all but silently, through the thicket." 

Then finally…"NOOOO!"  I scream wrathfully.

I don’t know what it is… why this bothers me most… why this last strike of the axe to my senses sends me crumbling to the earth… but at the farthest corner..at the very line where the disjointed unknown destruction meets the unmolested familiar beauty…is a small space of ground, where once stood a cedar grove.  It stood maybe 20 feet high and spanned 30 yards long.  It once tunneled a section of trail.  For no rhyme or reason this little brethren of pine once gathered in this spot, swaying their sweet soothing smells and cooling weary hikers on the warmest of days. 

Now off to the side, they lay in a pile, motionless, odorless, dry, neatly cut from their bases, and stacked in neat rows..like bodies preparing to be hurled into their mass grave.  Amputated arms point lifelessly towards the destruction.

I turn my head.  I can’t look anymore…I can’t describe the feeling… but it is one that I have only felt during break-ups with girlfriends or at being told of a loved one’s death.  It is a heaviness of heart anchoring a mind whose thoughts grapple between denial and the reality - that what once was will never be.

Amidst the loss and sadness are the thoughts… "How can this be?"  "What human being could do this?"  "This is supposed to be a National Park."  "This is SUPPOSED to be the most protected land in America."  "Some fat man, smoking a cigar, in some office, at some mahogany desk, who has never been here, and never smelled those pines, never watched the deer grazing in the fields, never saw the hawks circling in the thermals, signed some piece of paper, with his Waterman Pen, and sentenced this place, my place, to total oblivion"

I stand and stare trying to make sense out of what my eyes show me.  I don’t know how long it was, before I finally started to wander off.  My feet fell out in front of me, my body was pulled along behind, and my eyes focused just enough on the ground at my feet to keep me from falling. 

I moved as if a great weight were dragging at me.  As if one of those massive tree trunks were roped to me, and I was pulling it away.  And so it was for 15 minutes, or a half an hour… before a voice in my head shook me, pointing out that the sun was setting, that I was miles from the car, that I would try to deal with this later, but for now, I needed to focus.  I put my head down and pushed for home.

Since I moved to D.C., I cannot count the number of times I have walked these fields.  To hike, to run, to show someone I trust a special place, to cope with stress from work or relationships, to battle some personal demon or just to cope with the mere day-to-day of living in the stale, fetid, filth of a concrete and asphalt city life.  This place never failed to clear my head, to flush my lungs with fresh air, to allow me to reconnect with the beauty and peace of nature. 

This place was so special to me, that whenever I think of moving, and all the things that I would REALLY miss…this place always makes the list.  I really can’t believe this could have happened. 

I have heard that some wanted the park to return the battlefield to its original state at the time of the battle.  But it never occurred to me that they would actually do it.  That people would stand by and let it happen.  I imagined the furor it would bring would have the proposal tied up in red tape for years. 

But the red tape of this gift of peace and beauty has been unwrapped and discarded.  And all that is left in its place is disbelief. 

7:39 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Twilight Magic
Current mood: mellow

She was running when I saw her.  Her ponytail lapping at one ear, disappearing behind her head, then reappearing to lap at the other.  I had just glanced back to see the sun setting into the trees across the field when I caught her movement.  She was dressed all in black and was closing the 50-yard distance to me… uphill in steady stride.
 

I walked on for a few moments before the trail split … before I could hear her jogging shoes crunching into the loose gravel.  I took the left fork and my ears perked to hear if she followed.  The crunch changed into short chops and I knew she was now on the same mulchy trail as me.
 

"You dropped your baton." 
 

"What?" she said, taking her earphones out and jogging up beside me.
 

"Your baton…you dropped it.  You were supposed to hand it to me and I was going to finish the race."  
 

She smiles at me, chuckling between breathes.
 

"Can I walk with you to cool down before we get to the cars?"  She asks.
 

I don't believe it.  A stranger, a woman, alone in the woods wants to start a conversation with me.
 

"I don't know.  My mom told me to stay away from fast women."
 

She smiles..laughing again.  "I don't think she was talking about runners."
 

"Oh…" I say.  "Well that certainly would explain a lot."
 

We talk the whole way back to the car.  I can't believe how relaxed I feel.  She is so easy to talk to, and she laughs at all of my jokes.
 

Back at the parking lot "Hey, I was about to go to this little Pho Restaurant just up the street.  It would be great if you would join me."
 

"I LOVE Vietnamese food.  Noodles are perfect after a run.!"
 

We load into my car and drive out as the sun nestles behind the farthest ridge.
 

It is amazing to me…what my mind can conjure…in the 2 minutes it took for this stranger to run up behind me…wordlessly pass me…glance up at me and wave when the trail turned.  
 

I walked alone along the boardwalk that led over the ferns of the wetlands below, glancing ahead to see if I could see her ever-dwindling form.  In the parking lot I stretched and searched the cars to see if she was still there. 

I load into my car and drive out…as the sun nestles behind the farthest ridge.

4:42 PM - 3 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

A place called home
Current mood: sad

The contrasts on this side of the ridge are much starker than the other.  Here, one whole section of wood will be dried out and brown.  Then rounding a corner, one will find everything coated in snow, and the trail an almost un-navigable ice chute.  "It is like we just walked through the wardrobe!"  

We have left the A.T. behind us and are snaking our way down a blue blazed trail.  My mind races back and forth between feeling hungry and ready for a warm shower and bed, and sadness at the fact that soon I will have to say good-bye to the trail and to my friends.  At around 3PM we reach the car.  It is kinda fun to try to cram all 5 of us and our gear into the small 4 person compact.  But we manage.  
 

The Homeplace far from disappoints.  A mound of fried chicken disappears quickly along with most of the mashed potatoes and green beans.  The country ham survived fairly well in tact during the first wave of feasting, but soon it and even the cole slaw was depleted.  The second wave of chicken did not fare much better than the first.  There were so many bones on the table it looked as if we had devoured a small mammal.  
 

"Alright Moonshadow.  That last piece is yours!"  "I can't! I have chicken dripping out of my ears."  "C'mon Moonshadow!  You can't let these 06-ers see you like this!"  At that, a flicker of silvery light flashes in my eyes as a fork stabs into the defenseless chicken thigh.  Crumbs has no time for chit-chat when it comes to fried chicken!  
 

Now there is nothing left.  We retrieve our other car from the A.T. parking area and make our way back to our home base.  Viking has been cat sitting at a friends house in the mountains.  We sit for a little while for one last chat, but the road calls and Monday morning will be here all too soon.  We hug our good-byes and hope for hikes to come.

7:46 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Dragon’s Tooth
Current mood: vibrant

"If I remember right, we just go up and over that little bump and the next climb will take us to it!"  That is what was said 4 or 5 little bumps ago.  The morning has been beautiful…blue sky and warmer than any other time on the trail thus far.  We are all wearing few layers and talking and walking our way over the last few ridge-top hills that lead to Dragon's Tooth.  At one point we hit a rut in the trail that has gathered so many leaves that our legs disappear up to our knees.  We laugh at the absurdity of the deafening sound and Viking shouts out "Its like 500 people eating potato chips all at the same time!"
 

We have only been out for 2 days and we are already excited, almost giddy about lunch.  With a car parked in Catawba, there is no question where we will eat -  The Homeplace.  It is a restaurant in the valley below that brings out big serving plates of 2 meats and a host of sides and it is all you can eat!  Kind of a buffet that they bring to you.  The ridge that we are going across now has a very narrow, green, hilly valley that runs below it.  At one of the overlooks, Viking uses the silos and houses to guide our view right to The Homeplace.
 

"So that is why they call it Dragon's Tooth."  It is about 1PM and we are standing at the base of a large flat rock, jutting sideways up from the earth, giving the appearance of a huge gray tooth.  We walk around for a little while, trying to figure out the best way up.  Though it is sunny and warmer, there is still snow and ice around the base of this trail landmark – which is tough enough to climb during the best of conditions. 

Crumbs, Viking and 4-today lead the group up what I believe to be a very questionable approach.  There are two stone walls facing each other at about a shoulder and a half length apart.  The walls have some dimples in them and it is easy to push off against each wall for leverage to climb.  But today, the trick is that in between these walls is a slick, wet, icy carpet.  But each person climbs with surprising ease. 

Once on top of the rock wall, there is a nice sitting platform where you can look out all over the valley on either side, and the ridges in front and behind you.  I sit and chat for a little while, but I cannot help but being drawn to the rest of this rock formation.  The actual Dragon Tooth goes up to a pretty sharp point, just a few yards above this platform.  There are a few comfortable seats up there, but to get to them you have to climb the side of the tooth.  It is high up, with a good drop to one side, and a GREAT drop to the other.  There is a fairly steep climb, and it is very narrow- maybe half of a shoulder length, and less than that at places.  But I can't resist. 

"Can I have your pack when you fall?" and other such encouraging words are muttered as I start my way up.  At about half way, there is sort of a level and wider resting spot.  But the last leg up is the hardest.  I stop for only a moment, and then push my way up to the top.  I sit there for a while, smiling, looking out over everything, and feel my clenched fingertips digging deeper into the rock with every slight wind gust.  
 

4-Today is not to be outdone!  She is a swimmer and has already told us that she is competitive.  And soon she has scratched her way up to the seat beside me.
 

And there we sit friends old and new, warming in the sun, looking down from this hike's apex, on a world that took a weekend to escape.  All too soon, the sun lowers, stomachs growl, and we begin to make our way back down. 

7:52 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Night Life
Current mood: drunk

"Can someone help me with this soup?"  Moonshadow always has some concoction that most fine restaurants fear to try under controlled conditions.  Tonight is an Aegean Soup with lentils and rosemary (or some such).  
 

"We have our 'Max Patch Mac and Cheese.'"
 

"So what makes it 'Max Patch Mac and Cheese?'" 

"I dunno.  They put corn in it, called it 'Max Patch' and charged us a buck fifty extra."
 

Viking and I compare our Lipton Packets.  "I have Beef Noodles." 
 

"HA!  I have Beef Stroganoff!"
 

"Well if everyone is through eating…"
 

I reach into my pack and pull out a bottle of 12 year old scotch (okay..so it's a blend) that has been chilling in my pack for 24 hours now.  I pass it around, and with each sip…it gets colder!  The bottle makes another lap around the fire ring and the next thing I know, Viking and Crumbs are in a MAD BRAWL!  
 

Now Viking isn't called Viking because he is a tiny dark haired fellow.  He has blond hair, a full beard, and looks like Eric the Red's man-at-arms.  
 

Crumbs on the other hand, looks like she could subsist off crumbs from Viking's plate for weeks at a time and be satisfied.
 

Now here they are, flailing wildly at each other in some bizarre death match called "Pushy".  Alright…maybe they were just standing a few feet apart from each other and slapping at each others hands.  But the deal is, you can't move your legs at all.  You just stand across from your opponent with your hands facing each other like you are about to play patty-cake.  Then you slap your arms forwards, hitting the persons hands and trying to either have enough force to make the person stagger backwards, or to feint in such a way that makes the other person over-exert and lunge a leg forward.  I would have bet my last Beefy Noodle that Viking would put poor little Crumbs in the fire.  But I will say this, after the match, as Viking lay hobbled and bleeding, I took Crumbs off my list of people to pick a fight with (as Hopeful would say).  
 

We are all back around the fire now, digesting our dinners, sipping at the Scotch, sharing memories of the trail, and watching the warm fire glow.  "Hey Lasta, look up!"  Some time ago I had said that I wish the stars would come out.  And when I look up, its clear my wish was granted.  
 

Stars are so huge in the Winter naturally, and out in the mountains, with no leaves in the trees, any spot is great for star watching.  
 

"There's Orion."  
 

"That one there is Andromeda."  
 

"Can anyone find the North Star?" 
 

 "There I am.. the Twins, right below Orion."
 

The girls go to bed first, and Viking and I stay up and burn off the last bit of fire wood, sip at the last ounces of Scotch, and revisit our Body Snatcher discussion.  "What time is it."  "Oh, its got to be 1:30 by now."  I am amazed when I roll back my sleeve to find it is barely past ten.  At home, I have to force myself to go to bed before midnight and on the weekends 2 or 3 is usually when I start thinking about sleep.  But out here, 10:00 for some reason is when most people are sacked out.  
 

7:35 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Into the night
Current mood: peaceful

"So what are y'all thinking?  Shelter or tent?"
 

"Um..actually, we are going to tent inside the shelter."

Each person automatically goes about the various tasks of settling in for the night.  My first task is to get my sleeping bag out and to fluff it up a bit so that it will regain as much of its loft as possible.  The more loft (or space between the fill) the more space for body heat to get trapped in.  Next, I should stretch, but instead I start working on the fire.  But this time, everyone pitches in gathering all kinds of wood.  There are a lot of blow downs at this shelter for some reason and lots of dry wood around.  It takes almost no time to form a hot coal bed and the fire making seems effortless.
 

"Does anybody need any water?" 
 

 "Nope, think we're all set."
 

Viking, Moonshadow, Crumbs and 4-Today are all sitting on fallen logs around the fire preparing their dinners as I slip off down the ridge.  The distant ridges look like pieces of a giant's furniture arranged in long lines with dark drop cloths draped over them.  Above them there is just a sense of red glow in the sky that dark clouds ease lazily across.  I look back to make sure that I have my bearings.  I am always worried that I will take off down a water trail at night and end up on a game run and turn around and nothing will make sense.  And there I will stand, alone with the darkness, without even a raincoat, calling out into the woods and hearing nothing but the sound of a creek in return.  
 

It is always peaceful down by the water.  Sometimes small creatures ploop into the stream, scared by your headlight.  Sometimes there is a pipe sticking out of a hole above a murky pool and water fountains out.  Tonight, the stream just babbles and gurgles along the base of the hills around me, completely unconcerned about how dark or cold it is.  I fill up my container, careful to not brush the sediment below, or to disurb the water with my feet.  The water edges over my Nalgene and slowly fills it.  My hand is submerged in the icy stream.  My eyes slowly wander across my surroundings, trying to make sense out of the shadowy shapes in this nightscape.  I breathe fresh, cool, stream moistened air, and can almost feel the awakening of the most primal part of my brain.  For a moment, I am calm. 
 

Half the way back up the hill, and the shelter glows dull red, turning oranger with each step.  Then voices murmur and splatter with laughter, and finally become distinct.  And I am home.

8:17 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Viking and the Body Snatchers
Current mood: pensive

"Do you think he came and went?"
 

"He would not have gone without leaving a note."
 

"Should we keep moving?

It is 5PM by the time we hit the road crossing, the sun is very low in the sky and what little light remains is shaded by the encircling mountains.  It is getting dark and cold quickly, and there is no sign of Viking.  We replay everything we heard Viking to say.  We retell everything we remember saying to Viking.  We speculate on all the things we should have told/asked Viking, and in the end, we are still sitting around a frozen fire ring, snacking, as hiking light diminishes.     
 

"I think we should wait it out.  We can just make a fire in the ring.
 

"I am getting cold now and think I need to start moving."
 

"I think we should give him another 20 minutes."  
 

I kind of like the fire idea, but know that it would either take a lot of effort, or I would have to use my last fire starter, which I was saving for tonight.  I had a sense from my conversation with Viking that he wasn't convinced he would make it by 3, and that he didn't want people waiting for him. So I cast my vote, "I think Viking could take a while and it is only a mile to the next shelter.  I think we leave a note and hike on."  
 

It takes us 20 minutes, and 20 minutes exactly to pack up our gear, to gear up, and to start moving up the trail when, "I hear a car!"  "That's Viking!"  
 

The girls hike on and I double back to greet him.  He parks the car in a flat snowy spot and soon we are hoofing it up the last leg for the day.  To entertain ourselves we engage in a very deep and thought provoking discussion about the motivations and tactical strategies of the pod-people from the Invasion of the Body Snatchers.  We make it about half way to the campsite before we have to take out our headlamps, but there is still some light in the sky by the time we see the shelter. 

8:17 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment