Teddy Roosevelt's Island

So here I was last Thursday afternoon about 3:45, all by myself in Arlington, Virginia, where I was spending the night before arising at 3:40AM Friday to start the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure. Should I curl up in my nice hotel room with a good book? Or sit in an outside cafe and have a mug of tea or a cold beer? Stay off my feet? That would be the smart thing. That would be the sensible thing. Or I could take a hike. Not smart just hours before starting a 3 day long 60 mile walk. Not sensible. But fun. Well, guess which I did? Go on, guess!

Theodore Roosevelt, our 26th and youngest president, was a fascinating and somewhat contradictory man. He was the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize and also was a war hero, a winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor. (His oldest son also won the Medal of Honor, and I wonder if they are the only father - son combination in American history to do so). He was a naturalist, a big game hunter, and a conservationist - as president, he created the National Wildlife Refuge System and took many other innovative conservation actions by bypassing Congress with executive orders. He was an accomplished author, and wrote something like 30-40 books, one of which was considered the definative history of the US Navy in the War of 1812. He was a rich city-born-and-raised kid who became a tough rancher in the Dakata frontier. He was a nearly life-long Republican who cost the GOP the 1912 election when he ran against Taft as an independent in the Bull Moose Party. He was an explorer who nearly died navigating down the River of Doubt in South America as one of the leaders of the first expedition to do so. He was proably vain and arrogant, and loved being the center of attention. It was said about him that he wanted to be "the bride at every wedding and the corpse at every funeral." He was a sickly child who deliberately lived an active life to overcome illness, lived the life of three men, and died young at about age 60 - totally burned out. He idolized his father but was ashamed that his dad had gotten an exemption to avoid military service in the Civil War. Every one of TR's four sons - the sons of a president - served in the military in wartime, and two of them died in the awful world wars of the last century. Can you imagine that today? We could sure use a guy like Theodore Roosevelt today - he might shame Congress into action.

So as I pondered what to do, the draw of Theodore Roosevelt Island just a half mile walk from my hotel proved to be too much of an allure. Like its namesake, the island is a contradiction - a wild and isolated 88 acre oasis in the middle of one of the world's greatest cities. So that is where I headed, walking about four miles. This was more than I should have walked, but much less than I would have were it not for my three days of upcoming extreme walking. I had a great time, then went out and had that beer in an outdoor cafe, listening to a muscian play the guitar and sing.

What a contradiction! These two photos were taken from the exact same spot as I walked down the ramp to the trail leading to the bridge to the island. The first, facing right, is of the urban towers of Rosslyn, Virginia. The second, facing left, is of Roosevelt Island just across the Potomac:
Roosevelt Island as seen from Virginia:
Once you cross this footbridge bridge, you leave the urban scene, and enter a wild place:
I think the Roosevelt would have been very pleased with this tranquil place. I saw as many deer - two - as humans on the trails. I can imagine the former president roaming the inviting paths.
There is a nice statue of the great man near the center of the island, and large structures highlighting some of his quotes in four subject areas, such as these about nature:
Nuts from a black walnut tree:Crew, I imagine from Georgetown University, crossing near the north end of the island:
Views of the Potomac River, which surrounds Roosevelt Island:

Cold Mountain, Wet Day, Great Hike

On Labor Day, for the first time in 2011 - my year of foot surgery, death in the family, and plantar fasciitis - I got in a hike in the mountains. I hiked with a friend up Cole Mountain on a rainy and foggy day. This hike would have amazing views in clear weather, and is essentially a "loop" over from the Pleasant Mountain hike that I did last fall. In fact, you could easily combine the two in a "figure of eight" route, either as a long single day hike or a leisurely backpacking trip. I'd vote for the latter.

The rain started just as we hit the trailhead after a long ride from Richmond along Route 60 and a few miles of very rough gravel road. Within minutes, we saw multiple piles of black bear scat, and kept alert. In fact, my hiking buddy Hawkeye did spot a small bear near our lunch break. Far more dangerous than bears are Homo sapiens. A hiker from Indiana was murdered on the Appalachian trail here less than a month ago and apparently within a few miles of where we hiked - maybe even on the same section of the A.T. So far, there are few details released and no known suspects. It is very tragic.

I captured the track of our route using my DeLorme PN-60 GPS. We went clockwise from the parking spot - the top left-most point on the map on the Wiggins Spring Road, shortly after turned right up the Old Hotel Trail, and joined the Appalachian Trail a little more than three miles later. We turned right, headed through the human maintained balds on Cold Mountain, and headed back to the car.It was about 6.5 miles of walking with about 1,300 feet of elevation gain, most of it very gradual. It rained steadily about 70% of the hike, with very dense fog. Up on Cold Mountain (labeled by the USGS as "Cole") the fog was so thick that if one of us moved 50 paces from the other, we became invisible. I ended the hike with a sore heel from the plantar fasciitis, a blister on my little toe, soaked to the skin, and with a big smile that no amount of rain could wash away. Foot pain? Steady rain? Elevation gain? Can't complain! I was hiking again in the mountains! It was a total blast!

We saw so many cool mushrooms! This one looked like butter:
This one looked like a nicely cooked pan cake to go with that butter - does my little gnome look hungry?
This one was a beautiful lavender:
We came on the most amazing campsite here, under the oak trees. I don't remember seeing a good water source nearby.

A mile or so later is Cow Camp Gap Shelter, which has good tentsites nearby, an outhouse, and a stream not to far away. It was close to here that Hawkeye spotted the small bear. At times, the woods almost looked haunted in the fog.Moisure dripped from this spider web like jewels.
Chris a.k.a "Hawkeye" stands on a rock by a colorful sumac near the summit of Cold Mountain in the flog.

World-wide Views

"You haven't posted in three weeks," a friend wrote recently. True enough. I have not been hiking, a combination of a trip to Michigan when my only "hike" was on water in a kayak, my injured foot, and spending my walking time trying to make up lost time on training for the Susan G. Komen 3-Day, now just 39 days away. On that note, in the last 9 days, I have put 41 miles on my feet, with varying levels of heel pain. Whether or not I can do the entire 60 miles over the three days remains to be seen, but I think so.

Anyhow, I thought I'd put out a couple of maps showing recent usage of this blog. "Oh, to be Hiking!" gets much more readership than my other blog, "Racing for a Cure." I guess the topic is more interesting to people, and they often do searches for specific hikes and come to this blog. For some reason, I've gotten a lot of hits lately on my post last year about a late fall hike.

You can see I get some traffic from a lot of the northern hemisphere, mostly North America. South America and Africa, and most of Asia - very little to none.And the east coast of the USA, especially the Mid-Atlantic, looks at my blog more than other regions of the country.

Sometimes, funny things can happen with user access. On "Racing for a Cure," I posted a humorous (at least I thought so) account of how sexy biker babes wanted to meet me. For a while, it got more hits than any other post on that blog, and when I checked the search statistics, one of the key phrases searched for was "sexy biker babes." It got hits from all over the world, although I imagine that they were very disappointed once they got to my post!

Presidential Memories

Well, my foot is still too sore to go on any real hikes yet, although I hope to do a few short ones in the next week or 10 days. So in the meantime, I thought I'd take a hike down memory lane, mostly in photos.

Four years ago, almost to the day, my brother and I joined a friend of mine for a three day hike in the Presidential Range of the White Mountains in New Hampshire. My friend Dick was 82 at the time and had been in the Whites dozens of times. For my brother and I, it was just our second time to hike up Mount Washington, the highest peak in the Northeast. Our first had been 40 years before when we were in highschool and our dad took us up. I decided it was time to do it again, to celebrate being alive 40 years later and to mark five years surviving lymphoma.

It was a fantastic trip. We slept in the huts and had great meals prepared by the AMC "Cru." Mount Washington's fabled "worst weather in the world" took a vacation and we had three glorious sunny and calm days. It was a trip I will always remember, and I share memories of it here in this link, in a series of 100 photos in a slide show, if you are interested. Enjoy my presidential memories!

I plan on doing it again. Hiking the presidential range and climbing Mount Washington again will surely be on my "Do It Now Decade" to do list! And I hope I am still hiking strong when I am 82!

What to do in My “Do It Now Decade”

Here’s where I would love some reader comments.

So, I just hit the Big Six-O! My friend Betty, who is 62, calls this the “Do It Now Decade.” Her line of reasoning is that the 60’s could be the last decade of your life where you are still vital and strong enough to really enjoy life. So if there are things you’ve been putting off, things you really want to do, then you’d better do them now. We could debate whether the 60’s is the last good decade of one’s life, but that is not the point. The point is that none of us really knows how much sand is in the top of that hourglass that we call our life. Sure, we can see all the sand piled up in the bottom – sixty years and two days worth in my case – but the top of the hourglass is painted the deepest midnight black. So don’t assume how much time is left – live it!Betty and two other friends bought me lunch today to celebrate, and Betty gave me a card and a tiny notebook with 80 pages in it. The notebook is maybe 2.5 by 3.5 inches. On the cover, she wrote “Art’s Do It Now Decade Notebook.” She said “Write down sixty things you want to do in the next 10 years, any order, anything. It might be something huge, or it might be a small thing – like visit a specific restaurant, write a poem. Write one thing per page, and as you do it, write some notes about it.”

I like this idea and started writing a few things in it already. It occurred to me that even though we assume we will live a full decade at age 60, nothing is guaranteed, so I may want to prioritize my final list. I also thought that there are definite categories of things that I would love to do over the next 60 years, such as travel, family, volunteer, athletic, personal growth, and outdoors to name some.

Since I love the outdoors so much, no doubt my “Do It Now Decade” list will have at least 15-20 things of that genre. It will take me a couple of weeks to list all 60 of my ideas, but when I do, I’ll share the outdoor oriented list items in this blog. In the meantime, what types of things would you love to do in the great outdoors in the next 10 years of your life? Take into account your interests, fitness level, finances, and time availability to come up with a list that is feasible for you. Make a blog comment to this post with the things you would like to do, or send me an email. Maybe I will get inspiration from things on your list and some of them will end up on mine!

I started my list today by writing on five pages of the little notebook. One of my initial five ideas is outdoors oriented – to backpack Isle Royale National Park again. There will be many more on there when I am finished.

Final Fifties Hike

The Big 6-0 comes roaring in for me in less than a week, closing out an amazing decade in my life. I decided, sore foot or not, that I needed to get in one last little hike while I am still fifty something. So I went to Maymont, a combination flower garden - wildlife display - landscaping - nature center - historic home property along the James River. I walked about two and a third miles, going at a nice, slow 20 minutes per mile pace. While this hike can't match so many of the ones I've done in my 50's - Yellowstone, Grand Tetons, Glacier NP, Mount Rainier, White Mountains, Shenandoah - it was a nice little walk on a hot day, and a fun way to close out another decade of traveling on my feet.

My route is shown in blue. I started and ended at the upper left of the image. The red track along the bottom is part of last fall's hike along the Northside Trail and Buttermilk Springs Trail. (photos here). Maymont is fairly hilly, as seen by this elevation profile. The elevation range here is about 120 feet.

A lot of Maymont is open ground.

There are lots of beautiful flowers in the gardens here:

This nanny goat lives at the childrens petting zoo here.

I rarely get to see this gray fox, but he or she was out an alert today.

This great horned owl was somehow injured and cannot live in the wild.

The black bears here are very popular and have a huge enclosure. This point is meters from the Northside Trail shown in the map above.

There is a beautiful Japanese Garden here, with lots of streams and ponds,

some of which contain large coy:

One of the stately buildings on the property:

This hollow tree was large enough for me to comfortably lie down in, had I so chosen:

Visualizing a Hike

Two and a half months into plantar fasciitis, hiking is still out of the question unless I want to make it worse and put up with even more foot pain. So I thought I would visualize a hike on this pretty July day. On Independence Day, I hope that I can soon be independent of foot pain.

My first long hike after surviving lymphoma was to Rip Rap Hollow in Shenandoah National Park. This was in July, 2003, and was my statement that I was strong enough to hike again, even though the long uphill at the end felt like it was going to kill me. I’ve been back every summer since then to celebrate life and survival. This year, it looks like I won’t make it, so I will visualize the hike.

I leave my home early, and so arrive at the trailhead by 8:30. The morning is still cool at over 3,000 feet on the ridge line. I park at the Wildcat Ridge parking lot, lace on my boots, and shoulder my pack. As I step out, I am thankful to be walking without the awful heel pain that has been plaguing me for months. In minutes, I am hiking north along the Appalachian Trail.

I’m too late to catch the blooms of the mountain laurel that are so common here, but the cool green of the forest is soothing to the spirit. I keep my eyes and ears peeled for wildlife, but all I hear right now the is the call of a distant oven bird: “Teacher, teacher, teacher, …” Then, I hear the call of an Eastern wood peewee somewhere out in the green canopy. The trail undulates up and down, but is easy hiking all the way to the Rip Rap Parking lot, where the AT climbs steeply to meet the Rip Rap Hollow trail.

I leave the AT here, climbing some more and passing through a more open forest with some nice views at Calvary Rocks and Chimney Rocks. I pause and eat some GORP, and reflect on life for a few minutes. What a miracle it is to be alive! That this collection of chemicals that is me has emotions, memories, thoughts, feelings, wishes, dreams! We truly take so much for granted each and every day. I think back to my first time at this spot since cancer – how amazing it felt to be hiking, to feel well again, to not feel sick every single day for months and months. I bow my head a bit and give thanks.

I’ve come along a dry and sunny part of the trail as it descends steeply. I once came across a bear here. Staying alert, I am rewarded when a deer crosses the trail just ahead. It melts into the forest, and when I arrive at the spot where it crossed just seconds later, it is as if it the deer is invisible. I wonder how many animals we walk past on any given hike and never have a clue that they are there, yet we probably sound, and smell, like a huge and easily detectable being to them. I move along, the combination of the sun and lower elevation heating things up quite a bit. Then suddenly, I am back in a cool forest as the trail bottoms out.

As I walk along, I suddenly see the first water – a small spring. I’ve reached Cool Spring Hollow. It is so pleasant here, and quite the contrast to the hot and dry area just minutes ago. An old box turtle, some of the colored plates missing from its shell, pulls its head and legs into its shell, and closes up as tight as a drum. I always love seeing these increasingly scarce turtles! I leave the old turtle and move along, walking besides more and more water. There are little cascades from time to time, and it is so beautiful! I pause to admire the view from a little rise, and am startled by a crashing sound just behind me. I whip around just in time to see the black form of a young bear disappearing into the foliage. He had been gorging on berries just feet from the trail, and I never saw him!

My pulse returns to normal as I cross the now-wide stream several times, heading to the hollow that I love so much. I arrive at the deep pool, and because of my early start, I am the only person there. As much as I would like to skinny dip here, it is much too popular a spot, so I move into the woods and change into a swim suit. I come back to the pool and examine it. The moss surrounding it makes it look like it is encrusted with emeralds. Small brook trout swim in its depths as the sun glints off of their bejeweled sides. I slowly step into the pool, glad that I didn’t put on bug repellent that must be washed off first.

Man, is that cold! I move deeper – calf depth, mid-thigh depth. The deepest part is just ahead, and gathering my courage, I take a deep breath and plunge in face first. In seconds, my head breaks the surface and am nearly hyperventilating with the cold, but shortly after, it is more comfortable and I dive down to the bottom to explore it a little bit. The trout have vanished, although now and then, I can see one of them flash by at my eye level in the crystal-clear water.

I climb out of the pool on the other side, and wade up the stream that is feeding the pool. I look under rocks for salamanders and snakes, but find none. I once saw a water snake catch a trout not far from here. Returning downstream, I swim across the pool and climb out, sunning myself on a rock to partially dry. There has not been a soul here other than myself, which is very rare. After a while, I go back in the woods to strip and finish drying, put back on my hiking clothes, and reluctantly, start the hike out. I’ll stop for lunch along the way, because it is still too early to eat due to my early start today.

I hike along the last level stretch of this hike, along the scenic stream. I go slowly, looking for more bear, and making sure not to step on a timber rattler, which I once nearly did along this very trail. Eventually, I cross the stream again – there are several more crossings to go – and start the steep hike out up the Wildcat Ridge Trail. I’d love to see a wildcat, but never have, although I wonder how many times I’ve unknowingly walked near them in my travels. I stop along one of the last stream crossings to rest and eat my sandwich – peanut butter – and apple. With this setting that I am enjoying, a king would not have a finer meal in his palace.

After lunch, I continue the steep hike out of the hollow. It is a climb of about 1,500 feet back to the car. I watch for wildlife, but all I see is a garter snake that rushes away as I inadvertently disturb its siesta. I pause to drink from my canteen several times and take a few short rest breaks, but mostly, I just continue my hike out. It is a far cry from that first post-cancer hike in 2003, when it seemed I had to stop and rest here every 10 minutes. The body knows how to heal itself much of the time, if we do the right things.

All too soon, I cross the AT again, and minutes later, I am back at my car. My lovely virtual hike to Rip Rap Hollow has ended!

Fogbound in Maine

May 29. Well, this was not exactly an epic trip, but with my incredibly sore foot, it is probably the best I can do for a while. We were on a cruise with a friend for a week, from Boston to Montreal, and the second day out included a stop in Bar Harbor, Maine. We took a bus tour for a couple of hours that included several stops in Acadia National Park, one my favorite places in the world. One stop was on top of Cadillac Mountain, the highest point on the Atlantic Coast north of Rio. On a clear day, the views here are spectacular, but this was a fogbound morning in Maine, with visibility less than 200 feet.

There was a short and paved loop trail at the top, about a half kilometer. I was the only one on the bus to walk it. You could barely see a thing, but it felt good to have boots on the ground in Maine (home once in a past lifetime for a lot of years) once again!

You could see relatively clearly for maybe 20 feet, and after that shapes looked like ghosts. Because of the paved path, you really couldn't get lost:

Maine granite in the fog:

Even these pretty purple flowers were muted by fog:

Back at sea level, I snapped a shop of Bar Island. At low tide, as it is now, you can walk to the island across this bar that gives Bar Harbor it's name. It is a popular thing to do, as you can see. But stay alert, because if the tide comes in - 12 foot range - you'd better be able to swim in the 50 degree water, or you're staying on the island for a while.

No, I've Not Fallen Off the Earth

I've not fallen off the earth. I'm just not hiking. When every step with one's left foot feels like a nail is being driven into your left heel, it takes some of the pleasure out of walking and hiking. This plantar fasciitis is no fun at all, and I've missed prime hiking weather this spring.

Other than that, many visits to my sister Ann, and her death on Memorial Day - I will miss her until I take my final breath some day - have taken time and desire away from other things. But I have faith that ultimately, I will heal my heel, and get out racing for a cure and hiking again. With only 107 days until my 3-Day, 60 mile walk, it has to happen soon.

Until then, Oh to be Hiking!!!!!!!

Return to the Great Blue Herons

May 11. I'd walked an easy mile and a half yesterday to see how the plantar fasciitis would do, and it was not bad. I'd gone past the heron rookery on the James River in downtown Richmond, and seen lots of great blue herons out fishing to provide for their ravenous youngsters. So I decided to return today (May 11) with a camera. I also learned that a mile and half two days in a row was amazingly painful for my sore foot, and have taken it very easy since then, but that is another story. Here are some photos of the herons (and one egret) along the James, along with a northern water snake - the wild side of a big city. As I watched traffic zipping by in the distance over the I-95 bridge, I wondered how many of the drivers had an inkling what they were driving right by just up-river!

These little ducklings seemed to be frantically searching for mom:

Northern water snake sunning itself amid rubble: