Adventures in freakdom.
December 7, 2003
Time for a few thank yous:
I found it on a sunny afternoon last November, the second time I ever went hiking on Rainbow Mountain. It stood in the dappled sunlight, leaning jauntily against the sign at the trailhead almost as though it were waiting for me. A stick, perfect in length and breadth, made just for hiking.
Take me, it whispered, and I’ll show you places you’ve only imagined until now. When I picked it up, I knew it was meant to be. My fingers fit around it perfectly, enveloping the rough limb and turning it into an extension of my arm. It was love at first touch.
A good walking stick can act like a third leg (or, if you’re as blessed as I, a fourth) when you’re making your way through the woods, helping your balance as you work your way over the rocks and protecting your knees when you’re moving down a steep hill. You can use it to test the ground in front of you when all you see is leaves, to make sure you’re not stepping into a hole or a puddle. It can be poked under rocks and logs when geocaching, so you don’t have to risk your hand to the black widows and rattlers so common around these parts. A good walking stick is a constant companion on a hike, never complaining, never breaking the serene silence, never telling you to slow down or hurry up.
That stick went with me on every outing for over a year: Rainbow Mountain, Green Mountain, Montesano Mountain, and Wheeler Wildlife Refuge, to name but a few places. Always it was in my hand, protecting me from the dangers of ankle-twisting rocks and slippery leaves. When I ate lunches, it leaned patiently against a nearby tree and soaked in the view, waiting for me to finish so it could once again guide me to new and exciting places. When I wasn’t hiking, it stayed in the garage or, more often, rode with me in the back of the Jeep.
That stick was a good friend to me.
Yesterday, I took my stick up to Montesano for the 4-ish mile loop around the Alms House, Waterline, and Bluffline trails. That loop is a fine workout, and a good stick is a necessity on the Waterline Trail because of its steepness. My goal in the loop yesterday was to do it faster than I’d ever done it before, for I am a dork and that is a thing dorks do.
I should’ve seen what was coming when my stick turned on me.
The first tenth of a mile of the Alms House Trail is pretty steep, leading from the parking lot down into a valley where the old Montesano Railroad once ran. I was making my way down this yesterday, stick in hand and nifty backpack on back, jumping from wet rock to wet rock and trying to avoid the slick ground. It rained all day Thursday and part of Friday, and the ground was very wet. Treacherous, even.
At one point I needed to stepjump down about two feet from the rock I was on to the ground, and that’s where it happened. It was so fast I’m still not quite sure what caused it. One moment I was stepping out, the stick loosely held in my right hand, and then it twisted itself under me and I landed hard. The stick slipped from my grasp as I dropped, and jabbed up into the soft and meaty inside of my arm. As my weight came down on it, it felt like it was trying to push its way in between the bicep and the bone.
It hurt like a motherfucker.
I rubbed my arm for a couple of minutes while I continued down into the valley. The pain finally abated enough that I could comfortably use that arm — my dominant one for strength-oriented tasks — to maneuver the stick once more. I forgave the stick for injuring me, and it forgave me for being a dumbass. The next mile and a half of the hike were uneventful, save a near-death experience when I tried to breathe the water I was drinking. I’m sure I was quite the sight, hacking and wheezing and wiping my streaming eyes, all the while maintaining a decent pace.
It happened on the Waterline Trail, at the long steep part leading from the dry falls up to the top of the mountain. The path crossed a gully, maybe four feet deep, and resumed on the other side. Since I needed both hands to climb in and out of the gully — everything was wet, remember — I pitched my walking stick far enough onto the other side that I didn’t have to worry about it sliding back down the trail and into the gully, maybe twenty feet. It arced beautifully through the air, my stick, spinning along its axis and flying true like an arrow.
And then, in a sick slow motion, I watched it land on a jagged rock and shatter into three pieces. I think I may have passed out for a few minutes from the shock. Though externally silent, on the inside I was wailing and gnashing my teeth.
Darkness fell on the land for about three hours.
Finally I was able to move again, and I crossed the gully and retrieved the remains of my stick. Carrying them off the path into the forest, I laid them gently to rest on a large and flat tablestone there. I briefly considered building a cairn for my stick, to keep away any other nosy hikers slowing on their way by to view the carnage, but I decided against it. Let my broken stick serve as a warning to my fellow hikers: here there be dangerous rocks.
I made my way up the long steep section with only my hands to help me, and looked for a stick at the top to help me get back to the parking lot. I found one, but it broke before I’d even gone another mile. I went stickless for the rest of the hike.
I’ll miss my hiking stick, my good friend and helper on the trails. I’d tell you it could never be replaced, but I’ve already ordered another one off eBay that looks like it could fill the oversized shoes of my broken companion. This new stick even comes with a whistle just for scaring bears, should I ever encounter any. And here I was, thinking I couldn’t get any dorkier.
If you’re curious, I still beat my best time ever yesterday, and did the loop in 1.5 hours. My next goal is to shave five more minutes off.
If you want to get notified whenever Fred writes a journal entry, this link will do the trick.
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Damn good writing,Fred !
He *asked* for no advice. As someone who was once in the And3rs0n’s shoes, advice was the last thing I wanted. We need to assume (really, not much of an assumption based on what we read of their love for their pet friends) that they are intelligent, and educated enough to seek out any possible types of treatment. I mean HELL, Miz Poo herself could possibly qualify as bionic, with all of the things she’s had done.
People should have simply honoured his simple request to keep all advice to themselves. Period. It’s all he asked of his readers - to just sit on their hands, and try to understand.
…and I’d also like to thank you for your “ability to take me along on your hikes.”
Your writing style is wonderful in that we,the readers,are THERE WITH YOU. Today I went on a hike with you that in the real world I wouldn’t have been able to do with these knees that some days have trouble making it across a room.
Thanks for sharing your talent with us.
“A good walking stick can act like a third leg (or, if you’re as blessed as I, a fourth)”
Seriously, Fred.
What can I say, Mo? Everyone knows I’m not given to hyperbole.
Thanks, Rugbypet, I’m glad you enjoyed it. I eagerly look forward to breaking in the new stick when it gets here, though I suspect the first thing I’ll do is remove the bear whistle. Unless I’m taking it to the Smokies, that is. Then I might put it back on.
Sorry this relates to your prior entry and not this one, but I TOTALLY agree with you on the Sunny D being devoid of nutritional value. I still have the nasty aftertaste of it etched into my memory from my youth. I loathed that stuff and yet my Mom bought if for me thinking it healthy. That and Five Alive, another craptastic liquid. If I was dying of thirst and no other beverage were available, I’d choose death - such is the depths of my hatred. There is no delight in the sunny for me.
I have to say I enjoy reading about your hikes and travels through the country complete with pictures. Feels like I’ve been there and gives me a glimpse of places I’ve never visited. And many look similar (topographically and regionally) like my area. Very cool. Thanks.
P.S. Love the backpack from a few posts back. Looks very handy.
OK, I want to know if anyone is actually not hiking because they feel like they have already done it with Fred.
You know, I once asked for anyone around here who wanted to go to drop me a line, and no one did…
I hate unsolicited advice, too, Fred. I get enough from my mother on a daily basis — I have no tolerance for it from anyone else!
You should get paid by the Alabama Tourism Board, Fred. This week I had a job change that opened up the possibility of moving anywhere I want to in the country. I actually started considering Alabama because of your hiking stories. Now, how weird is that? I mean, Alabama. (Said with love as a former Georgia girl now living in Texas)
Fred, if I lived within, say, a 3 hr drive of where you live *I* would have contacted you about going hiking with you. I’m more into basketball and running than hiking, but I’ve always wanted to do it. The thought of being out in the woods, all alone, and female, always made me a tad nervous, too. But I guess w/ you there I’d have no need to worry.
Oh, well. Maybe someday, if I ever find myself near Alabama. If my dreams of becoming a travel nurse come true, then I might just be contacting you one day!
Understand why you decided to freeze the comments re: Tubby’s situation. As one who is also dealing with this problem, it’s a lot to deal with. I do wish I had saved the comments for later reference though–just in case.
Anyway, good luck to you, I hope things improve soon.
Elizabeth, God invented guns to make everyone equal, regardless of size or strength. A gun is your friend in the woods.
——
Cheryle, the comments are actually saved, all I did was take the link off the page. I just hid them so no one could do any finger-pointing, because I wasn’t trying to single out anyone in particular. Drop me an email if you want a copy of them. The most heinous comments came via email, anyway.
“obfuscate” - that is one damn fine word! - It’s nice to see that there’s someone else out there who knows the word even exists! ~~Winter
Dude, bummer about your stick. As someone whose favorite childhood memories entail long hikes with my Grandpa, I can totally understand the loss. You can get attached to one, certainly.
Your tale about falling on the stick, man, ouch. My dad had a similar accident at work and ended up with a subdural hematoma (he went to jump down off a router table and his hand slipped on the broom that was resting at the edge of the table and thru some freak accident he impaled himself at the junction of thigh and groin). Went 12 inches into his body. Owie. You were lucky, dude. Be safe.
Hey Fred, I’ll take you up on a hike if you decide to go Maine! We live in Mass near Mt Wachusett but we have a summer trailer in Wells, Maine! Keep us informed. By the way, you have been such wonderful inspiration for so many people who have read your book. I belong to another website and a majority of them have purchsed it! Thanks!
completely understand the “i don’t need advice”. when we were in our similar situation we kept hearing “have you thought of trying this or that” over and over. i wanted to scream “don’t you think we have thought of every possibility and have only come to this as a last resort? hello!!!!! you don’t wake up one day and decide something like this, you think of it from every angle first. duh!” so i am sorry you have to deal with the same bull we did, i know it’s a pain. just wanted to add again you have sympathy and understanding. sending *big hugs* to you, robyn, and the spud.
I don’t have any advice. I only want to say that, for whatever reason, I care about Tubby and I want to know what happens to him.
I cringed when I read all the comments offering advice. I mean, I know they meant well and all but I was like “Ummm….do you know ANYTHING about Fred???”
I still think that nifty VW that Robyn so admires would make a great Christmas present…LOL!
(ain’t I just the little suck up! LOL)
Great entry, as usual…. but…
Wah! I got taken off the notify again!
Please put me back
Michele
Fred I am an avid hiker/climber and have also overcome a tremoundous life style change. Having lost over 100 lbs. I have also seen the view from the summit of Mt. St. Helens crater rim twice and the summit of Mt. Hood once. My second attempt on Mt. Hood was turned back due to weather (icy). I would strongly like to reccommend the use of trekking poles. The brand I have Leki Makalau have nifty grippers and shock absorbers. Even during my day hikes I appreciate these suckers. They are real knee savers.
Julie
No advice here. Just want to say how sorry I am to hear that Tubby is so ill
I hope that you’re able to find the right dosage to make him better. I know from experience how painful it is to even have to consider making a decision like that. Hugs to you and your whole family (human and feline.)
What was the stick’s name? Your favorite buddy has to have a name!
Awwww Fred, I missed all the comments and didn’t know Tubs was sick because Robyn hasn’t mentioned it and I catch up on you a few weeks at a time. Poor guy, I hope he feels better soon.
As for making a decision, I’ve never had to do it myself, but I’ve been with a friend when she had to take her cat. Having been there with an animal that I knew, but was not my own made me feel like when I do have to, I will feel better about it because it’s very peaceful in most cases. I don’t think it would ever be easy, but my friend’s vet just characterized it as the animal lets you know.
I don’t mean for the above to be advice, I’m more empathsizing with the decision making thing and feeling sorry you’re in the position, because Tubby, for all you bitch about him, is quite obviously adored, just as all the others are. Anyway, hugs to Tubs and all you guys.