Not In Mountains Yet
Wednesday: Woke up at 3:30 AM thinking about "Monster", the backpack that Reese Whitherspoon(portraying Cheryl Strayed) carried in the movie "Wild". Gawd. That pack was a beast. I layed there, awake till 4:30 AM thinking about Reese, and "Monster", on The Pacific Crest Trail. ( I own and have read Cheryl's book. Reese more likeable, and sympathetic than Cheryl). Then I gave up, got up, and turned off the phone alarm, that was set to sound off at 5:15 AM. Had two hours left to eat breakfast and brush my teeth, before my sister took me to the airport.
Finally got around to stuffing all of my gear into my own pack last night. It weighed 25 pounds. I was expecting about 22 pounds, as I only have 3+ days of food packed for our first little jaunt up the trail. It felt heavy when I picked it up. "Ok... 25", I said to myself, "not so bad". "I am glad I trained for this hike. I'm ready". I tell myself. I am also glad that I trained without this pack. Of course, as I get a bit wider awake, I remember that I forgot to keep my mosquito lotion in my quart Ziplock bag, with my battery pack; so the TSA people can scope it out.
After repacking everything, I remember that the 9 oz. battery pack is not in there yet.....nor the 8 ounces of fuel, that I will get in Denver. Oh man..... my water bottles are empty, too...... so that is 25 pounds + 4 1/2 more! My pack will weigh almost 30 lbs. I don't know how that happened. It was 27 pounds when I started the AT hike, at Amicalola Falls, with 4 days of food and more winter clothes. I am planning to carry about 1/2 pound more food per day, this hike. I am going to try to avoid being a human scarecrow, again, at the end. I have a lot more protein. On the AT for quite awhile, I thought that all I had to do was eat hi-calorie food. Then I totally ran out of gas, when I got to Vermont, and more experienced hikers taught me about protein. So I changed my diet, and got some legs back under me as result.
If that pack is 30 pounds with three nights of food. It will be 35 with five nights, and 40 pounds on the two long hauls; between Salida and Creede, and then Creede and Silverton. And then there are the times we will have to lug extra water, because this trail is pretty dry, compared to the AT. I am getting scared! Don't think about it. I am going to have to eat that already packed, extra beef jerky and the pecans, on the first day out of town, each time I resupply. Yeah, really chow down and lighten that load right away. I can do that.
At the MSP airport, the TSA give me a really....really, thorough inspection....everything out of the pack....body pat down, residue sniffer pads, and on and on. I am not kidding. They have me for a full half hour, while the other passengers filter past me, curiously wondering what I have done, but careful not to make eye contact. Come on! Let's get serious here. Do I look suspicious to you? I call one of my other sisters, since I now have a three hour wait( see below) who says, "Yah. You're the nervous type. I would definitely spot you, and be thorough." Thanks sis.
No rush, it turns out as my flight gets delayed three hours, when the pilot calls in sick. He probably got lucky last night, and hopes to, again this morning. I understand.
Met "Airborne" and "Sequoia" at the Denver Airport. It is huge, intimidating to me. Later in the evening, we found out that the first two segments of the trail are closed because of flooding. There is a lot of snow in the mountains. I had seen it from the airplane.
"Hey, are those mountains still supposed to have all that snow?" I had wondered, as the plane did it's approach. "Are those snow capped peaks, our peaks?"
"Hey, are those mountains still supposed to have all that snow?" I had wondered, as the plane did it's approach. "Are those snow capped peaks, our peaks?"
Thursday: We go to REI this morning, to get stove fuel, and hiker insurance for three bucks; in case we need to get rescued. The guy asks us if we have our safety ropes. "Safety ropes?" (He's funning with the tourists. Right?)
"That snow is melting fast. Those creeks and rivers may be tough to cross." he warns knowingly. (No, I am not going back to Minnesota. "Lions and tigers and bears.....Oh my!") Although it is 9:30 AM in the morning, the guy looks and sounds like he voted for the recent legalization of Marijuana, in Colorado. Yes. Yes. A long.... long time ago....in a land far..... far away( that's for you Star Wars affecionados), I did have considerable experience in that forum, so I recognize it, when I see it. No. We don't buy any ropes. I can not fit one in my pack anyhow.
"That snow is melting fast. Those creeks and rivers may be tough to cross." he warns knowingly. (No, I am not going back to Minnesota. "Lions and tigers and bears.....Oh my!") Although it is 9:30 AM in the morning, the guy looks and sounds like he voted for the recent legalization of Marijuana, in Colorado. Yes. Yes. A long.... long time ago....in a land far..... far away( that's for you Star Wars affecionados), I did have considerable experience in that forum, so I recognize it, when I see it. No. We don't buy any ropes. I can not fit one in my pack anyhow.
Afterthought: The cab driver that took us to REI. earlier, looked like he had been in favor of legalization too. We are in the right lane, on W. Jefferson Ave., signaling for a right turn, to head north at a stoplight, at a major intersection....S. Wadsworth Blvd., and I say to the driver, that REI is two miles South on S. Wadsworth Blvd, not North. He says, "Oh........ yeah", backs up 40 yards, crosses 4 lanes of traffic, turns left across 4 northbound lanes, into the 4 southbound lanes, and we are good to go! The guy was either stoned, or planning to take a new northern route to REI. Probably both.
Later that day, "Sequioa" has a package to mail home, so we catch our third cab. (Hikers don't walk in town, only on the trail). This driver, seeing three aging tourists, and having come to America because it is the land of opportunity, clearly recognized this particular one. He drove us north on S. Wadsworth Blvd, right past the Postal branch located in the little mall, a half block off Wadsworth, and headed purposefully toward a Postal branch that was 7 miles away. After we had traveled several miles, and were now heading west, and being an Eastsider, I checked my Google Maps App for Post Offices, told my friends that we were being scammed. And waited for them to set the driver straight. It was "Sequoia's" trip, not mine, and I only just met him, so I waited a bit. By the time, I told the driver to go back to the first location, we were only a mile from the distant PO. "Airborne" and "Sequoia" both travel a lot, and they are also more sophisticated and proper; yes, and more self disciplined than me. I assume they accept small 20 dollar ripoffs as an incidental part of traveling.
I don't travel. In a situation like this, I am all Eastsider.
I drove a cab, briefly, myself, during one of the many times in my life that I was broke...... and desperate. I did not last long at it.
I have never been timid, but driving at night, with a bunch of drunks and druggies, in the back seat, whose hands I could not see, made me uncomfortable.
The night that I made a run to Minneapolis, with a 50 year old male, his 30 year old girlfriend, and her two little children in the back seat, was my last night driving cab. The man and the woman shared a crack pipe on the way over there. I rolled down my window and did not breathe. He went into the house, made his buy, and they smoked crack, in the midst of those two little kids....all the way back to St. Paul's East Side.
Although they tipped very well, I realized that night, that the East Side had changed; that I never could hold my breath very long; and that I was not desperate enough to drive a taxi. I make no claim to sainthood, so I am wary of throwing rocks. I do know the cab driver game, but I never took anyone for a ride.
"Sequoia" insisted on paying the whole fare himself, saying that it was his trip and his mistake. I try to stay cool, but I am sure he sees that I am pissed. The cabbie is not a big man.
"I can take this guy. I know it." I can't help thinking. Rational thought is fighting to prevail over maleness. Common sense convinces me not to make a scene. I do try. So, I wait till "Airborne" and "Sequoia" get a bit ahead of me; then I go back to the cab, stick my head through the driver's window, get right in the prick's face, give him a big smile, and tell him to have a nice day. I just had to let him know. I had to. If my two friends had not been there, I would have stiffed him completely, hoping that he would exit the cab trying to collect.
Yah. I know. I know. I have been married....so I have been educated more than a couple times about appropriate civil behavior, but I have to tell you that I am still a man. I blame it on being male. You women know what I am saying....I know you do.
And Yah, I know, I know, that in the heat of the moment, I have a tendency to forget that I am old, and weak, and slow. And that scum bags don't always settle disputes with fists anymore. I forget all that and only remember that I am a man.....a man who grew up on the East Side.
If you read on, you will see that everyone I meet on this hike, everyone from Denver, and everyone in all of Colorado, will treat me like I am family, will give me rides many, many miles out of their way, will invite me into their homes, and feed me wonderful meals, and most important offer me their friendship; never noticing that I am a filthy, sweaty, stranger, who smells bad.
When traveling, if you take a cab, know how to get where you are going.....and smile.
Let's get back to the Rocky Mountains. "Hawkeye".
Later that day, "Sequioa" has a package to mail home, so we catch our third cab. (Hikers don't walk in town, only on the trail). This driver, seeing three aging tourists, and having come to America because it is the land of opportunity, clearly recognized this particular one. He drove us north on S. Wadsworth Blvd, right past the Postal branch located in the little mall, a half block off Wadsworth, and headed purposefully toward a Postal branch that was 7 miles away. After we had traveled several miles, and were now heading west, and being an Eastsider, I checked my Google Maps App for Post Offices, told my friends that we were being scammed. And waited for them to set the driver straight. It was "Sequoia's" trip, not mine, and I only just met him, so I waited a bit. By the time, I told the driver to go back to the first location, we were only a mile from the distant PO. "Airborne" and "Sequoia" both travel a lot, and they are also more sophisticated and proper; yes, and more self disciplined than me. I assume they accept small 20 dollar ripoffs as an incidental part of traveling.
I don't travel. In a situation like this, I am all Eastsider.
I drove a cab, briefly, myself, during one of the many times in my life that I was broke...... and desperate. I did not last long at it.
I have never been timid, but driving at night, with a bunch of drunks and druggies, in the back seat, whose hands I could not see, made me uncomfortable.
The night that I made a run to Minneapolis, with a 50 year old male, his 30 year old girlfriend, and her two little children in the back seat, was my last night driving cab. The man and the woman shared a crack pipe on the way over there. I rolled down my window and did not breathe. He went into the house, made his buy, and they smoked crack, in the midst of those two little kids....all the way back to St. Paul's East Side.
Although they tipped very well, I realized that night, that the East Side had changed; that I never could hold my breath very long; and that I was not desperate enough to drive a taxi. I make no claim to sainthood, so I am wary of throwing rocks. I do know the cab driver game, but I never took anyone for a ride.
"Sequoia" insisted on paying the whole fare himself, saying that it was his trip and his mistake. I try to stay cool, but I am sure he sees that I am pissed. The cabbie is not a big man.
"I can take this guy. I know it." I can't help thinking. Rational thought is fighting to prevail over maleness. Common sense convinces me not to make a scene. I do try. So, I wait till "Airborne" and "Sequoia" get a bit ahead of me; then I go back to the cab, stick my head through the driver's window, get right in the prick's face, give him a big smile, and tell him to have a nice day. I just had to let him know. I had to. If my two friends had not been there, I would have stiffed him completely, hoping that he would exit the cab trying to collect.
Yah. I know. I know. I have been married....so I have been educated more than a couple times about appropriate civil behavior, but I have to tell you that I am still a man. I blame it on being male. You women know what I am saying....I know you do.
And Yah, I know, I know, that in the heat of the moment, I have a tendency to forget that I am old, and weak, and slow. And that scum bags don't always settle disputes with fists anymore. I forget all that and only remember that I am a man.....a man who grew up on the East Side.
If you read on, you will see that everyone I meet on this hike, everyone from Denver, and everyone in all of Colorado, will treat me like I am family, will give me rides many, many miles out of their way, will invite me into their homes, and feed me wonderful meals, and most important offer me their friendship; never noticing that I am a filthy, sweaty, stranger, who smells bad.
When traveling, if you take a cab, know how to get where you are going.....and smile.
Let's get back to the Rocky Mountains. "Hawkeye".
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