Run DMZ

 

 

I haven't been able to get the tragic tale of a young woman and her father out of my mind. In case you missed it, the pair of experienced hikers summited Half Dome in Yosemite just as a rogue storm approached. They immediately began the descent, which is nerve-wracking on its own, when the skies opened and turned the "trail" of slate from dangerous to deadly.  The young woman, who was studying to become a teacher at Arizona State, was wearing new boots that lost traction. She slipped beyond the cables and plunged 200 to 300 feet, dying of a head fracture. These types of incidents, still uncommon, are unfortunately appearing in news feeds more frequently as hiking enjoys a moment. Last year a group of Half Dome hikers were trapped during a lightning storm that struck one of the hikers sheltering in a rock cave. Others barely made it down during the deluge. The thing that struck me with the most recent fatality is the role of trail congestion. The Arizona woman's father...

The Vista Fire on Mount Baldy last week, just hours after it erupted. As of today, it's about 50% contained and all nearby trails remain closed. The West is having quite a hard time with wildfires this summer.   

 

  Since 1919, one of southern California's most-posh-yet-most-primitive vacation spots has belonged to the Wrigley family (of chewing gum and baseball fame). The land today is dominated by the Catalina Island Conservancy , which controls 88% of the island to ensure it's never overrun by developers. This past weekend, I got to explore a portion of the primitive part with an REI-sponsored group backpacking trip from Two Harbors to Parsons Landing and back.  Training versus the actual trip My friend Mary and I began to train in earnest in early spring, when temperatures on trails were ideal in San Diego. Even into May and June, we typically had thick clouds to shield us from the enervating effects of full sun. This made it difficult to prepare for what the weather actually was over last weekend: hot and sunny. We knew we'd be carrying heavy packs, and in the last two months we weighed down our packs to 32 (me) and 38 (Mary) pounds of water and gear for our 5- to 6-mile treks....

 

I'm always amazed at how many social media influencers warn us to stay off social media most of the time. It's great advice, but I doubt these people follow it. Afterall, this is, like, their job, isn't it? Every once in a while, though, something pops up in the endless feed that does resonate with me. The following hit hard this morning as I complete the final week of backpack training and console myself in the passing of another dear old friend who was once the image of health and verve, until he wasn't.  I'm not sure if this actually comes from the mind of @jadebonacolta or she just didn't bother to use attribution, but here's a gem that reflects what all of us of a certain age know is true.  6 luxuries in life: time health a quiet mind slow mornings ability to travel a house full of love

To be able to sleep in and get in a long hike before life kicks into a higher gear is a true blessing. So many people were out and about last weekend, perhaps because trails were closed the three days prior due to tree treatments. Will be back here tomorrow (Thursday) with friends as the big backpacking trip approaches.

 I almost turned around early on the trail last Saturday, a bit creeped out by the lack of others despite ideal hiking conditions. I'm glad I didn't because I would have missed the field of yerba mansa in bloom about a mile from the Los Penasquitos "waterfall" on the South Trail. 

Thought it might be nice to resurrect Wordless Wednesday for the season. This is Eagle Rock, which we accessed yesterday via the Pacific Coast Trail in Warner Springs. The 6.5-mile hike had its challenges, from territorial cows and bulls to a snake in the middle of the trail. It heated up to high 70s, but that was a good thing for me and my heavy backpack.   

The beginning and ending tend to be what gets remembered most. We can recall the excitement and enthusiasm starting a new project, partnership, romance, home, family, or friendship. We also vividly remember how all of these end, whether naturally or suddenly. This robs us of the portion that really matters, where the mundane resides but without which progress comes to a halt. I'm talking about the middle, that part of a plan, relationship, or life where we actually devote the bulk of our time. It tends to muddle together because it doesn't leave quite the impression of the beginning and the end, what is known as the primacy effect .  That's why so much emphasis is placed on first impressions and final departures. But the middle is where we make our imprint, whether living up to a promise or proving people wrong. It's everything in the middle that determines how we are seen and remembered when it's lights out. Right now I'm in the middle of my backpack training ....

  I never considered how Bandelier National Monument got its name until a week after I'd left the abandoned cliff dwellings, the time-defying petroglyphs, the impressively preserved ruins, and one harrowing climb to an ancient housing complex that I wisely sat out. Despite these New Mexico lands serving as home to ancestral Pueblo people for millennia, once the cliffs and canyons joined the U.S. parks system, government officials chose to honor Adolf Bandelier, a Swiss immigrant and self-taught archeologist who studied this region and played a role in its establishment as a national monument to preserve the sites. That was in 1916 after the place had been vacated some 400 years prior by the indigenous populations that made a decent life out of honoring the elements surrounding them. A brochure you receive at the gate includes a message from the Affiliated Pueblo Committee: Spiritually, our ancestors still live here at Bandelier. You see reminders of their presence here--their homes...

It is impossible to take in Santa Fe and not witness myriad manifestations of spirituality. It's in the historically significant churches anchoring a public square. The sacred grounds of nearby reservations and pueblos. It's in the art and jewelry showcased in galleries, outposts, and sidewalk sales. The preparation of Christmas enchiladas and heated discussion of what "spiritual but not religious" really means over lunch at the Plaza Cafe .  Rarely has a girls' getaway been so in-your-face about its underlying intention. Less than a week later, I'm still unsure how I feel about everything after experiencing so much mysticism during three days in New Mexico.  Spring awakening Spring arrived just as we did, from bursts of lemongrass-colored tree buds lining walkways to a white and pink blossoms spilling over brown adobe fences meant to contain them. The high desert sun shone intensely except for one brief April shower that bode well for early May blooms waiting...

I read a lot of studies in my line of work, and every once in awhile something's published that makes me stand up and take notice. This week it's a piece in Scientific American that looked at more than 150 other studies to conclude that "jogging" and cycling while angry or stressed actually makes you feel worse, not better. The researchers cite the physiological responses that show elevated, rather than reduced, aggression in people after rigorous or repetitive exercise.  "Some activities people use to manage their anger amp up arousal and increase anger and aggression levels. Jogging, a popular stress-relief activity, actually increased anger in the studies we looked at. The repetitive nature of jogging may induce feelings of monotony and frustration, potentially exacerbating anger rather than alleviating it," researchers wrote. Reading further, the meta-analysis essentially contradicts what we've long been told: Take out your anger through physical ac...

I did something Saturday morning that I haven't done in years: nothing. I spent five glorious hours sipping tea and watching HGTV in bed while a flash-flood-inducing storm blew through. I took advantage of a rare lull in my life to force my body and brain into rest mode. I also did it because things are about to change for the next three months. I'm going to start training in earnest for a weekend backpacking trip on Catalina Island this summer. I don't know how I found the REI excursion, but I do know sessions were sold out whenever I checked. This year, I bookmarked the page, so when it updated, I was there. That's how I secured the first spot for a group backpacking trip on June 29-30, 2024. Three friends soon signed up, but one withdrew due to a shoulder situation and her sister backed out too. It's down to me and my friend Mary . I'm excited to have a new focal point to get out there when my body and mind want to be elsewhere. I'm also fortunate to liv...

  "Aloha" might be the most recognizable Hawaiian term, but on Maui, "Mahalo" is a close second. It lacks linguistic flexibility, meaning just one thing: Thank you. However, it is quite pliable in conveying a desired tone.  Come enjoy authentic Hawaiian shave ice. Mahalo.   Yes, our lines are long. Please be patient. Mahalo.  The restaurant kitchen's closing early tonight. Mahalo.  Our $1.50 (each) kiwi fruit are better. Mahalo.  Do not move the mat concealing a heating element inside your unit's oven or you may destroy the appliance. Mahalo! I can think of no better word that reflects the four days recently spent exploring a paradise always on alert for potential disasters.  Which pretty much sums up our trip, too.  Mahalo for those quiet, pre-dawn mornings I spent sipping hot tea on our balcony and watching locals setting up for another busy (hopefully profitable) day while pale-skinned tourists ran, walked, and cycled along S. Kihei R...

Whether you're still sleeping or been up for hours, everything feels doable at 6 in the morning. The hours ahead hold so much possibility. We're going to be productive. Well nourished. Well liked. Well dressed. Well mannered. Relief is coming to those who had a rough night. A reserve of energy is now available to those who didn't. Then life hits. Emails and texts pour in from people that make you regret that extra cup of caffeine because your heart's racing and mind moving too rapidly. And it isn't even the official start to the day.   Kids won't get ready. Dogs won't poop while the ground's dry and skies clear. Significant others head out too soon or linger too long watching some lame ESPN show when there are dirty dishes still in the sink, school papers to be signed, outfits to inspect, and contingencies if the dog still won't go No. 2.  At 6 a.m., we've yet to break plans, promises, or hearts. We're still convinced the next 18 hours will u...

The king tides pummeling the cliffs of La Jolla Cove were the most impressive I'd witnessed in all my years living in San Diego. Of course, I usually head to the beach during the other end of the cycle: the extreme low tides that expose tidal pools filled with crabs, sea anemones, sea cucumbers, and lobster shells shed either naturally or by vicious currents. But that morning, with everything bathed in a celestial blue thanks to an impenetrable marine layer, we watched serious swells march toward the sandy beaches of La Jolla Shores. Closer to us, an inlet filled repeatedly with frothy waters while a gulp of cormorants (yes, I had to look that up) bore witness to the sea's incessant violence from a safe distance. There must have been hundreds of the black birds blending in with the dark, wet stone and dim light. Pelicans settled in on another cliff, recovering from their aborted flights in gale-force winds. They flew so close we could make out the veins in their webbed feet, fe...