The good, the bad, and the ugly

Yes, I survived two days and 21.5 miles of hiking through a small section of the Catskill Mountains.  Yes, appointments with a podiatrist and a masseuse have all been scheduled.  

The good-

We started early in the morning, leaving my truck at, what we hoped would be, the end of our trek, and drove her car to the beginning of our journey. The weather was perfect and we began an easy couple of miles through some wetland areas before the terrain started getting more rugged and forested.  The leaves had just barely begun to change and, due to recent rain, the scenery was a lovely verdant green.  We were following along a creek, and the sound of gurgling water was almost always audible.  I had forgotten just how soothing and centering time in the wilderness can be.  

Unlike previous trips, we now had cell phones. Although we agreed not to use them, it was comforting to know we had them in case of an emergency or getting lost. My other upgrade was I now carry a trekking pole, mostly for balance when crossing logs, streams, etc.

The bad -

As feared, after a few miles, my left foot just blew up.  When I took my boot off the first night, it looked like a water balloon with a golf ball sized swelling around a marble sized bump.  I was able to soak it in a cold creek for a while but wound up having to take the laces out of my boot and just tie them around the top to keep the boot on.  Emotionally, I was able to work through it, although if I were honest, I was angry.  This reminder of trauma is apparently going to follow me to the end.  Yes, the body keeps score.

The ugly -

My New Year's resolution this year was to be able to do a deep squat.  I still can’t do one, but I failed to realize how much this would affect my ability to pee in the woods.  (TMI??)

I have an ultra-light, tunnel tent which just fits two people plus a small vestibule to cover gear.  We have used this tent many, many times with no issue.  But apparently, we have both put on a few pounds since our younger backpacking days.  Suffice it to say, we were like little pudgy sardines, squeezed into a nylon sac.  Fortunately, we have known each other for a long time so extreme closeness was not so much an intimate embarrassment, but more a claustrophobic clash for space.

So try to picture an arthritic woman, sleeping on the hard ground, waking to pee late in the middle of the night, deep in a forest, having to wiggle out of a cramped cocoon, trying awkwardly to stand up with nothing to hold onto, then finding a sapling to grab onto, trying to squat and praying that I wasn’t peeing down my leg or sitting in poison ivy.  I’m pretty sure all the nocturnal creatures were laughing.  

We had covered more than half the distance the first day so day 2 was shorter but steeper (which is actually easier than going downhill) My body was screaming for mercy but mentally I was happy to be defying my age, knowing how easy it is to fall into the “I’m too old for that” mentality.  By afternoon we popped out of the woods where we thought my truck would be, but no.  Fortunately, an airtag in the truck showed that we had overshot it by only a few hundred yards

Cell phones, airtags and trekking poles have certainly made backpacking safer but, until they can give me a bionic body, I think I’ll leave the trails for the younger folks*

*Epilogue

A few days after this trip, my youngest came home with her kids and asked if we could do our traditional hike.  This is a short but very strenuous hike I have yearly done with her since she was one, and I carried her in a backpack.  Now she was going to carry my latest 5-month-old grandson.  I tried to beg off since the foliage was only beginning to turn, and my body was still recuperating, but it was the last time she would be home until Thanksgiving.  Damn traditions.  I struggled through it.  Well, I’d rather be the oldest woman on the trail then the youngest woman in the nursing home.