1. Today was a day of recovery after yesterday's hike into Lower Stevens Lake. My muscles weren't sore, I'm happy to say, but I was tired and needed to get recharged. I spent time in flickr and at YouTube and in some hikers' blogs looking at video and pictures and reading others' accounts of their hikes into Lower Stevens Lake and, for some, their hikes on up to Upper Stevens Lake and to Stevens Peak. Looking at the images, listening to commentary on the video, and reading different peoples' accounts divided my mind.
On the one hand, all of them confronted me with what it means for me to be sixty-five years old and trudging into the mountains. These hikers were all anywhere from twenty to forty years younger than me. Some wrote about the hike being a relatively short one. None of them showed much sign of strain as they blazed up the trail. One video showed two hikers making the trek in deep snow, one without snowshoes. My experience contrasted starkly with these younger hikers. To me, this was not a short hike. The hike caused me some of degree of strain almost every step.
While on the hike Wednesday, Byrdman and I briefly encountered two separate young women on the trail. I never saw one of the women going up, but as she came down after a brief stay at the lake, she looked fresh, unfazed by the hike. The other woman passed me going up and she glided up the mountain. I have no idea what she looked like. She became an abstract picture of youth and fitness and ease as she swooshed by me. As I continued to stagger up the trail, she was on her descent and, again, I marveled at how smoothly and elegantly she slipped by me on the trail.
I suppose, seeing these younger hikers online and in person, I could have beweeped my outcast state and troubled deaf heaven with bootless cries and looked upon myself and wished myself to be more rich in youth, trim and effortless like her, or boundlessly energetic like the young guys online.
But, I didn't.
No. I thought good for me. I love the splendor of the natural world. I'm not going to let limited lung capacity, being overweight, my heart knocking at my ribs, and a body easily heated up stop me from feeling the awe of the towering larch and pine trees, being soothed by the songs of Willow Creek, admiring the chaos and remarkable stability of the talus, or enjoying the undisturbed cerulean tranquility of Lower Stevens Lake. Do I dream of one day reaching a level of fitness that makes these hikes less of a strain? You bet I do. I also know that that dream may never come true, but I'm not going to stop hiking just because it wears me out.
2. I had the house to myself starting about 1 p.m. I started to fade. I lay down and fell into an abyss of sleep, a sweet and restorative oblivion, for nearly an hour.
3. For dinner tonight, I returned to one of my favorite meals. I fixed a pot of jasmine rice, let it cool, and put it in a bowl. I blended olive oil into the rice and then added cucumber, red wine vinegar, cilantro, sweet red and orange pepper, almonds, garbanzo beans, Kalamata olives, olive brine, fresh lemon juice, and feta cheese, stirred it, and enjoyed eating this flavorful rice salad.
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