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Hiking is good for what ails you

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Take a hike, it’s good for what ails you. Especially if what ails you is stress, depression, anxiety, tension, panic, frustration.

Take a hike. Walk until you see something that makes you smile. Something pristine and natural like a mallard duck lifting off from a lake. Something wild like a fox never deviating off course – ignoring your presence. Something comforting like a fawn in the forest or quail noisily gathering their chicks, or a lizard zipping away from your shadow.

Keep hiking until it becomes clear exactly what it is that is eating you or whom you blame for your issue. Work it out with each step. Talk it out aloud to the wilderness. Keep going. Keep putting one foot in front of the other until your brain has stopped complaining and started feeling grateful. Press forward until you reach that crucial moment when you throw your hands in the air and shout “Thank You!” Then, and only then is it time to head back to your point of origin. You are now healed – at least for another hour, another day. Taken daily, this remedy will go miles toward keeping you balanced and healthy. Healthy in mind and soul as well as body. There is hope. Hope that you will be cured of your anxiety.

This remedy may also be found packaged under any of the following labels: bicycling, running, swimming, kayaking. Parent company: Exercise in the great outdoors.

One word of caution: hiking is addictive. You may find it necessary to walk further and further into the wilderness to effect a change in your emotional and mental well-being. But, dear friends, can you think of a better remedy with fewer negative side effects?

Hear me now, there are times when you feel like you are going to die. Your chest constricts. It is hard to breathe from the stress. The tension is mounting in your shoulders and around the base of your neck. Or perhaps embarrassment has joined with anxiety so that you feel as if you want to die. When you feel like you want to die – or when you feel that you are going to die; you must, you must get out of doors and take the cure immediately. Why? Because your last goal, the last thing on your bucket list is to die in a beautiful place. Remove yourself to a beautiful place immediately to position yourself to achieve that goal. Who knows? You may recover instantly. It has happened to me time and time before.

Ideas other have suggested as remedies for panic attack caused by anxiety or depression: Now I ask you, cannot all these be accomplished via a good hike?

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Character, Emotional Health, Family

To the Lake or To the River?

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Lone woman paddles around Lone Rock, finds biceps.
Yep. There they are. Not only can I see them, I can feel them. Just call me River Mouse…

As I stuffed items in my daypack, I tried to review everything Janice had taught me. Chubs for the sunglasses. Sandals for the feet. Tie ons for the hat. Tethers for just about everything essential. A little dry sack for the phone. The phone? Last time I left my phone at home. Back then my phone was a phone and I had a little camera. Back then was three years ago; wait! Has it been three years or seven years? Back then I made makeshift ties to keep my flip-flops on my feet. Back then Janice loaned me a dry sack for my lunch and essentials. Janice also loaned me a kayak. Yesterday, I rented.

These days I am more comfortable on the water and more comfortable in my own skin and more comfortable alone. Nevertheless, when you rent, you have to read and sign three pages of paper; paper that says you are responsible for anything that happens to you. Back then, Janice and I and the other women we kayaked with knew we were responsible for everything that happened – including the poison ivy – but that is Janice’s story.

One of the pages you sign says that you were given an opportunity to inspect the vessel before embarking. The young rental attendant walked ahead of me on the floating dock, turned left on an extension where three kayaks were moored, grabbed one by the rope, chose a different one, “This one,” she said. “Get in, I hand your things.” Fortunately, I had just taken time to snap on my PFD.

Stepping in to a low kayak from a dock feels much less secure than shoving off from a beach with all items organized and secured ahead of time. I plopped on the seat back and had barely achieved balance when she passed me my backpack and the oar. My experiences with Janice were on the Gunnison and Colorado Rivers. This is the first time I have ever stepped into a kayak bobbing in 20 feet of water. Let me tell you, I felt much more secure stepping into the shallows of the Colorado River, though if I were to believe my mother, “The Colorado River is treacherous with undertows, stay away from the river, people have drowned there!” Suffice it to say, I have not stayed away from the river. I paddled a portion of the Gunnison, which joins the Colorado in Grand Junction. I paddled a portion of the Colorado from Palisade toward Grand Junction. I drive down Highway 128 as often as possible. I have hiked to the confluence of the Green and the Colorado, I have been swimming in Bullfrog. I swim often at Wahweap; and last weekend I rented a kayak two days in a row and paddled around Wahweap Bay in Lake Powell.

Lake Powell, you will ask, what has that to do with the Colorado River? Everything. Every drop of water in Lake Powell is merely stored water of the Colorado River and its tributaries.

My brother doesn’t think the lake should exist, doesn’t think the dam should have been built. Be that as it may, that water, that Colorado and Utah and Wyoming snow melt, cannot help the fact that it is dammed up. I have followed the river and it is unlikely I will stop following it anytime soon. There are people I love that are dammed up – anal – and I still make the effort to visit them out of love and respect. And, dammed or not, I will still visit the river as often as possible.

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Emotional Health

An Effort to Visit the River

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An effort to visit the river

The first time I tried to get out on the water, my attempts were frustrated. I was balked of my best-laid plans. I knew water was exactly what I needed for self-care and restoration, so I went to rent a kayak. They were too cautious to rent it to me – because I was alone. To be fair, the wind was kicking up and I do know that exacerbates the entire process of hoisting the bark to the car top and then unloading the vessel and transporting it to the water. Yet, it feels unfair when folks are immediately skeptical of you because you are alone. If you wait until someone can go with you, there are so many adventures you will miss. Yes, they were skeptical of my being alone – and skeptical of my vocabulary. Apparently my use of the words “tether” and “dry-sack” were no more acceptable than being alone.

On my way home from that curtailed attempt, I discovered another kayak rental shop where the boats were already in the water, accordingly, I returned the following weekend. I tethered my hat, rolled my phone in the tiny dry sack, packed a lunch and essentials in a daypack and arrived in time to rent a kayak for two hours.

The young rental attendant walked ahead of me on the floating dock, turned left on an extension where three kayaks were moored, grabbed one by the rope, chose a different one, “This one,” she said. “Get in, I hand your things.” Fortunately, I had just taken time to snap on my PFD. I stepped aboard, plopped on the seat back, she passed me my backpack and the oar and walked away. There I was, bobbing in 20 feet of water, somewhat balanced, sitting on top the back of the seat that should have been properly adjusted and supporting my back, holding a daypack that needed to be secured in bungees either fore or aft and holding an untethered uni-paddle. This felt much more precarious than stepping into a river and shoving off a fully loaded and secured kayak. So much for being trained and prepared. Somehow I maneuvered the back support from my butt hold, vaguely attached my daypack and reversed out of the parking space. And my rear was immediately wet. Which brings out a major difference between sit-in and sit-on kayaks. A major difference, but no major problem, for I had remembered my river mentor’s (Janice) sage advice and I was not wearing cotton panties. The open lake was glorious. I paddled straight to the other side, beached my bark (which was actually polyethylene not wood) and walked toward some rock formations I had been longing to explore. Lunch was had on a sand dune. Returning to my kayak, I took a leisurely exploration counter-clockwise back to the marina. As I paddled, I noticed soreness beginning, right there in the purlicue, where my thumb joins my hand. By the time I reached the marina, a layer of skin sloughed off. But that did not dampen my enjoyment, nor did it stop me from repeating the whole kayaking process the following day – even better prepared with moleskin and paracord.

River or Lake, this no mere water; it came from Colorado – as did I.

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The mountains rescue me

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She had not planned to hike that day. After all, her feet were sore. Her shoulders hurt. She had hiked twice the day before – and it was her private get away – her chance to rest and rejuvenate. So, hike she would not.

She pulled on her dark indigo Levis instead of hiking pants and buttoned up a flannel shirt for the third day in a row simply because it looked good with the Levis and she was headed into town. Perhaps, she thought, some shopping, a stop at the real estate office and then maybe brunch before meeting a friend. It seemed prudent to grab her hiking poles as icy patches lurked in the shadows and town was perched on a steep hillside. Likewise, she slung a water bottle over her shoulder as proof against altitude sickness, and swapped Teva sandals for closed-toe Chacos. At the corner, she turned left instead of right, thinking to check the snowpack at a popular trail access point. She stretched a knit headband over her ears, zipped her down jacket to the chin and positioned her purse as backpack instead of shoulder bag. Half mile up the trail the sun was shinning. Her feet no longer hurt. “I would like to go up to the high bridge and see the gorge this time of year,” she thought aloud. Reversing course, she veered to the south and marked a path through compacted snow, sometimes walking on top, sometimes sinking abruptly to her knees in drifts, twice crawling up inclines packed to ice by previous hikers. Crawling. So much for the new Levis. And how about the YakTraks left dangling in the backseat of the car? The sun continued to shine. The coniferous trees began to respond with fragrance. Her down jacket became a waist wrap. Soon she was overheating in a long-sleeved flannel shirt with no other base layer to strip down to. She sipped from a stainless steel water flask. She took selfies at the bridge. She strode back into town with renewed vigor, found a real estate agent and took a look inside a cozy cabin. She enjoyed an early lunch with a friend and took a healthful, healing soak in hallowed hot springs of the ancients.

It was the best day in recent history and nobody had to rescue her. The mountains did that.

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I can earn as much as I want – next year

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I have been hiking twice today, which bodes well for my thoughts being clear and wise. When I keep putting one foot in front of the other, sooner or later the snarls I’ve been dwelling on begin to smooth out.

Today I am hiking at an elevation of 8,000 feet in one of my favorite places in the world. For several years I have been daydreaming about what it would be like to live and write here in this quaint little historic mining town. It is unfortunate the words quaint and historic often equate to a high cost of living. Blue skies and outdoor recreation inevitably mean more tourists and costly, limited housing.

Nowadays, I make more than I have ever made in my life. But, there is inflation. And I am single. I am quite comfortable in my singleness, but these days it is cost prohibitive to live alone. One must either take a roommate or a spouse. (This is true for men as well as women). I find myself thinking more and more about Jane Austen plots; the plight of the single gentlewoman, the inequities of entailing estates only to male heirs and leaving (formerly wealthy) widows penniless. But hey, I’ve never been wealthy. It just felt like it for a moment once I had charge of my own finances and income.

On Friday I successfully pre-enrolled in Medicare. The woman conducting the enrollment interview over the phone also advised me of my expected Social Security benefits. If I wait to retire until the full retirement age of 66, I will receive a monthly benefit great enough to pay for 97% of my current rent for a studio apartment. Medicare will cover 80% of any hospital stay. One wonders about the extra 3% for rent, and the extra 20% should I ever have to go to the hospital – and food – where does food fit in? No worries, she placated me, once I am 66 I can earn as much as I want each month without being penalized.

I’ve been thinking less and less about retirement these days and more and more about how I can land a job or launch a business that will make retirement possible – eventually.

I don’t want to feel trapped by any job or lack of money – or bound to any source of money. I do want freedom. Freedom to hike and write, and make music, and travel and love, and give and share. Most of all, freedom to do all these things without financial stress. That’s a tall order. One that takes copious hikes and hours spent at a piano to work through – as well as extra time spent at work for pay.

 

Emotional Health

Endeavors in Self-Care

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You have to be intentional about self-care and relaxation. Accordingly, I intentionally slept in on Saturday morning. I stretched and rose and put my organic flax and herb and lavender shoulder wrap in the microwave to heat. I had a plan. Saturday is my day off. I can go to work any time I please, I thought. For instance, I don’t have an appointment until 10:00 am. I will crawl back into bed and wrap up cozy with the organic heating pad and pretend I am at a spa. Maybe I will reheat the little flax sandbag and tuck it round my feet. Think of it, Self! You can relax.

It was 5:45 am and I was brushing my teeth when I noticed the distinct smell of popcorn. Popcorn? Who in my condo complex pops popcorn? I hadn’t even heard anyone else stirring.

I threw down my toothbrush and rushed to turn off the microwave. 7749 minutes remained on the timer. I charged across the room and jerked open the door to the outside air. There is nothing more nerve-wracking than a smoke alarm going off before dawn – or anytime for that matter. I switched the thermostat off – don’t want to heat the entire outdoors – and flipped on the stove fan and the bathroom fan.

Only then did I hazard opening the microwave door and quickly fishing out the burned healing pouch, evading the smoke alarm as I dashed to the door and flopped the thoroughly toasted flax beanbag onto the patio. But the planets! Oh the bright planets were in the sky and I had slept away 45 minutes of time I could have been hiking. Instead, leaving the outside door wide open, I wrapped up in my faux fur throw and watched the sunrise. Happy Saturday, Everyone!

Keep putting one foot in front of the other!

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What do you really want?

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“What do you really want, “ she asked. “Be specific with your answer. Don’t just say something general like; I want to be fed and clothed.”

She was half my age, yet full of the wisdom and experience necessary to instruct me in wanting well. Having known me all her life and lived with me for two thirds of it, she knows better who I am perhaps than any other. Genetically, she shares a few of my propensities, fears, insecurities.

She: Be specific. Tell me what you see in your head. List it-without any qualifications of why it is not possible. If you want a chalet in the Swiss Alps, just say so. Don’t think of the cost. Don’t go getting distracted by reminding yourself you would need one heck of a job to afford that. Don’t stop to consider if you would be too far from family.  What do I want? The question has dogged me all my life. Nevertheless, I began:

  • I want a cabin in Ouray
  • I want to write
  • I want to revel in music and Rocky Mountain beauty
  • I want to travel

She: Now that sounds interesting.

Me: Yes! Come to think of it, I don’t need a cabin. I need a launch pad. Last time I had a cabin all it did was tie me down.

She: Oopsie, there’s one of those caveats! You want a finished, cozy cabin with a complete library.

Me: And pressed cotton sheets.

She: MmHmm

Me: And walking distance to hot springs

She: Oh yeah. Keep it coming.

Me: And a handful of intelligent friends with common interests.

She: There we go.

What do you want? What do you see in your head? How soon do you get off track, start bandying about caveats, diluting your dreams with practicality, and oh so sensibly paring down your desires? What is holding you back? Fear of disappointment?

  • I want to walk everyday.
  • I want to feel the sunshine on my face.
  • I want to live in a beautiful place, work in a beautiful place – eventually die in a beautiful place.
  • I want to hold my own beloved piano in my hands every day and make beautiful music without fear that I am inconveniencing or offending anyone.
  • I want my own four walls.
  • How about that finished cabin with the full library?

May you want well. May your dreams come to pass.

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Airbnb – not the best for me – Girls’ Mini Vacation

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Couch surfing sounds like such a fun game until you try it yourself. I am quiet and private and she is more gregarious and friendly.

I travel to get away. She travels to make new friends everywhere.

“Are you okay with one dog?” she asked.

Shouldn’t be a problem.

There were four.

Check in time was 3:00 pm. With care, we did not arrive until 3:30.

The friendly hostess gave a tour of the house and house rules. Top two shelves in the refrigerator are for guests. Everything else is free game for the family. Brought the cooler in from the car. Meanwhile another guest loaded the two top shelves with fresh produce and ingredients. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It will all be gone tomorrow.”

“The pool?” – One of my traveling companion’s criteria – “ It’s pretty cold this time of year,” cautioned our hostess. “But the patio is a great place to sit in the evening with a glass of wine. Just let me know when you want to use it and I’ll put the dogs in.” Two of the dogs sleep in the kitchen at night. Apparently to guard the coffee and full fridge, right?

My travel companion is no novice to Airbnb. She has travelled around the world and stayed with strangers in Australia and Indonesia, I trusted everything to her. The beds were comfortable. The house, spacious and clean, needs only a bit of touch-up maintenance. The towels are large and fluffy and lovely and there is lots of hot water. I enjoyed a hot shower this morning and stepped out in the hall with one of those lovely towels wrapped round me. I saw my companion do this with success last evening so I followed suit – or unsuit as the case may be. An additional (and unexpected to me) guest sat watching the news on the big screen at the far end of the hall. He politely ducked his head further into his newspaper.

Last night we enjoyed a thoroughly satisfying time at the Phoenix Symphony after wolfing down salads in order to make curtain time. Smart Phone GPS took us on a circuitous jolly-ride on the way home. We arrived before Cinderella time. Unfortunately, the entry code was incorrect. Our hostess had to be roused by phone to let us in. It was raining as we waited at the door. It always rains when I visit Phoenix.

I am a morning person; my traveling companion is not. When she wakes, maybe we’ll take a hike. Unfortunately, due to the shutdown, we’ll not hike in any beautiful National Park. According to my helpful hostess, there are many popular hiking places in Phoenix – mostly paved….

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To Work in a Beautiful Place

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It’s Saturday and a hundred thousand National Park Service employees are not going to work. The government is in partial shutdown and those employees have been told they cannot work. It’s Saturday and a million lovers of the great outdoors; rest and recreation and beauty seekers; people who find solace in Nature’s beauty– a large number of them international visitors; will not be able to visit the very wonders of the outdoor world they seek.

The roads may be open, but the educational facilities will not. Scientific and historic research is at a standstill. The scenic drives may be taken, but there are no comfort stations at the end of the long and winding road. Restroom facilities are locked. Maintenance workers are non-essential. Educators and guides remain unvalued and unemployed. The National Parks of the American people – our public lands – have become an enter at your own risk wasteland, a place where budding anarchists take their pleasure with no respect or thought for preservation for future generations. As they say, “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.”

I don’t work for the National Park Service, in part because I do not want to be a government employee. But I do love beautiful places and I am shut out of my beloved National Parks. Over half the staff at my organization are out of work right now. Out of work, shut out of our bookstores and offices of employment. We are not government employees. Yet our lives and livelihoods are deeply affected by government shutdowns. Some will not recover. Some will find other jobs and not return. And the coffers that support educational programs will be wrung dry.

While I have said that I do not want to work for the government, I do want to work in favor of beautiful places. I want to live and work and die in a beautiful place.

Over the past seven years, I have had the soul-nourishing privilege to work as an educator in multiple national parks and monuments. I educate through retail. Every piece of merchandise I buy and sell has a story to tell. Think books and educational toys and collectibles. Dream of the creative ways cultural history, geology, biology, astronomy, botany, archeology, and paleontology can be taught and caught though a piece of merchandise!   Rather than work for commercial entities and concessionaires, I work for non-profit natural history associations, 501 ( c ) (3) organizations. In seven years, this is the third government shutdown I have weathered. Each shutdown has unique parameters and ramifications.

In a nutshell, here are the challenges of the 2018/2019 government shutdown from my perspective:

  • Roads are open but facilities are not
  • Commercial concessionaire stores are allowed to remain open but non-profit educational stores housed in agency buildings are not
  • Unemployment: non-profit employees are without work as well as government employees
  • Educational programs; tours, field institutes, walks and talks and lectures on public lands are considered nonessential and are cancelled

The non-profit I work for is fortunate to have recently purchased warehouse and office space with storefront capabilities. Opening the storefront seven days a week with extended hours has produced 10% of the revenues garnered during this same period a year ago when three stores were open for the season.

This loss of 90 % of our retail income severely, severely impacts future ability to fund educational programs and maintain a healthy sized interpretive staff.

The only solace for me is to take a hike and enjoy outdoor beauty. We must keep putting one foot in front of the other. But, please, while you do, take good care of these wonderful places. Some public lands trails are still accessible. Leave no trace – no evidence that you have been there.

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Putting One Foot in Front of the Other, Hiking for Life!