Not All Those Who Wander Are Lost

I love this JRR Tolkien quote, and while this definitely is not a trek to Mordor, I want to talk about our little area path, which we call the Muffly Trail in honor of our friends, who discovered it and shared it with us. I love it because it's close, a bit of a challenge (258 feet elevation change, 3.5 miles), and I can reach it by walking out my front door instead of a 20-minute ride to a trail. It's all paved, (so I am getting concrete experience and not just cushy wood chips), and about 8 feet wide. Could be wider, could be narrower, not sure - I'm awful at measuring.

Dwight and I walk it together maybe once or twice a week, but more often than not we walk it alone since I'd rather walk in the morning and he is a late-afternoon kind of guy. In Nebraska??? 100 degrees with humidity to match??? He was cooling down after his walk this afternoon and when he got up from the porch, there was a literal puddle under his chair. If you know him, you know I'm not kidding. I'm debating on whether or not to rinse it in case animals in the 'hood need a salt lick.

We've seen some cool wildlife, for living in a city. Okay, the 'burbs. I've seen wild turkeys, deer, a fox, and these guys, along with assorted critters.

I saw this guy early this spring, and as I was getting closer, I thought, "Wow, that's a big bird".

Oh yeah. Red-tailed hawk. With dinner.

This bunny nest was just a few feet off the trail, and we only noticed it when the mama scampered away. It wasn't very hidden, and it was gone a few days later, so we're hoping it didn't win the Darwin Awards for Bunnies

But since we usually walk it separately, if we see something cool and want to tell the other about it, we've named the sections:

• Switchbacks. Self explanatory.
• Roundabout. Again, you know what this is.
• Ted Bundy Hill. Emmy and I named this; if you're going up it and Ted Bundy pulled up in his Volkswagon Beetle and asked you to help him find his dog, you might consider the ride. Going down it is fine, but up is a bitch. Several blocks long and steep.
• Hobo camp. This is a new path that the city built over the winter. I wandered it last year and it seriously looked like a hobo camp. Are there still hobos? Do they have camps? Clem Kadiddlehopper? It was a dirt trail that ran along the tracks, there was a fire pit, trash, underbrush, I don't know, maybe bodies... Anyway, it was scary and I hightailed it out of there. The city came and cleaned it up, paved it, and it makes the trail a bit shorter if I go that way. 
• Power boxes
• Bridge
• Field
• Big Park / splash pad. I can't tell you the number of times I wanted to shove all the toddlers aside and just get wet!
• Tunnel 
• Railroad tracks - the trail runs along some BNSF tracks, but there are woods and gardens between us and the tracks. And lots of pot. Or hemp. Whatever. 

this stuff grows so fast!

• Bataan Death March. This is the last part along the tracks - at least a quarter of a mile of long gradual never-ending uphill. And just when you think you're at the end, you turn the corner and there's the Hill of Death - only about half a block but straight uphill.
• 99th Street
• Little Park
• The Bench. It's a mile from the big park back to our house, and 3/4 of that is uphill. A few blocks from the traffic light, at the top of the hill, there is a sweet little bench along the trail. Last summer when I passed it there was a couple sitting on it, and I told them they had the right idea. And they said that's why they put it there! I have availed myself of it more than once. I want to bake cookies for them and leave them on their porch, I am so grateful.

Srsly. How inviting does this look???

And now time for a public service announcement. Remember that Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. commencement address floating around a few years ago titled "Wear Sunscreen"? Yeah. He was right.

I grew up in South Dakota, red hair, fair skin, freckles, and spent every day all day outside in the sun, usually at the pool. Since sunscreen hadn't even been invented, I had more blistering sunburns than I could count.

Last week I had my first visit to a dermatologist. I had self-diagnosed myself with rosacea, and since my nose was starting to look like W.C. Fields and since we were going out of town, I needed help. Vanity,  you know. Sure enough, I was having a rosacea flair, and thanks to antibiotics (oral and topical), my skin now looks as good as it ever has. But as long as I was there, she did a full body check. (I would have worn better underwear had I known.) She froze four suspicious spots (right forearm, left bicep, above my left eyebrow, and scalp), and took a biopsy of an even more suspicious one on my left cheek. Luckily it turned out to be actinic keratosis and not basal cell carcinoma, but I feel like a ticking time bomb. It's only a matter of when.

WEAR SUNSCREEN!!!

The Day I Thought I was Gonna Die, or Adventures in Hiking

I know, I know, it's me being overdramatic. But let me tell you about last Saturday.

First of all, we are in the middle of a major heat wave. We had 78 days of January, two nice weeks of spring, and now, apparently, it's late July/early August. We're used to heat and humidity here in Nebraska, but we usually ease into it a bit more gradually.

Dwight has been busy lately but had nothing going on last Saturday, so when he asked what I wanted to do, I suggested going for a hike. And I wanted to do the full six miles around Wehrspann Lake, instead of cutting off the far side and making it only four miles. And I wanted to do it with my pack and boots. I dressed appropriately in hiking shorts, a sleeveless tech tee, my Smartwool socks, and a baseball cap. I had two bottles of water and some trail mix in my pack for us just in case we needed them.

We left our house about 9 a.m., stopped by Home Depot to pick up some mulch, but still got to the Chalco visitor's center about 9:30. You know, before it got too hot because we're prudent like that.  We decided to do the trail clockwise - again, just in case - we found we (and by we I mean I) really only wanted to do four miles and could take the bridge back.

We started out and it was gorgeous. When we came to the dam, I told Dwight that I was going to take the crushed limestone path just to have a different surface to walk on, while he continued the trail. His bright green shirt looked so pretty against the blue sky that I had to take a picture. I'd zoom in on it, but then you couldn't see how much higher he was than me.

That little speck is Dwight

And what did I see spray-painted in the gravel but a yellow arrow showing me the way. I tell you, signs are everywhere.

About a mile down the path, my tummy (which had felt a little off all morning) started getting gurgly and I told Dwight when we came to the picnic grounds I needed to use the bathroom because, well, I had to poop. I know, TMI, but hey, #keepingitreal. I knew we had a few miles to go until that spot, but when I found a bench in the shade, I needed to sit down. Dwight said, "The bathroom is only about 100 yards away", but I needed to SIT and SIT RIGHT THEN. I should have known how bad it was going to be because I didn't even pause the timer on my watch. But the stop revived me, I felt better, didn't have to poop, so we continued. We saw a sign that said 156th St bridge out due to construction but since we didn't know what that was referring to, we just went on. 

Okay, now I am thinking that doing four miles would be prudent, so we would need to take the shortcut back to the visitor center. When we got to the shortcut, it turns out that was the 156th St bridge the sign had been talking about. So, after a few choice words and figuring we'd just do the six miles, on we went.

Dwight: Are you feeling okay?

Me: I'm fine.

Dwight: You don't sound fine.

Me: I need to get to the car so I have no choice but to be fine. (Read this in a slightly bitchy voice.)

And then I started thinking that I was going to give Dwight the keys so he could drive home because my head was feeling not right. I needed shade and I needed it now. I just dropped my pack in the first patch of grass I found that was shady. (Again, not pausing my watch so my pace for this adventure was totally screwed.) I just sat there, thinking maybe I'd throw up, but knowing we still had some miles to go. Dwight offered to carry my pack but it seriously didn't feel heavy so I declined.  I have it packed right now at around 13 pounds, but it's so well balanced that it's easier than a school backpack.

Dwight knew what was happening, since he knows I don't handle heat and humidity well - especially since I've had a few rounds of heat exhaustion, most notably the time I didn't show up to the surprise 25th anniversary party that our kids threw for us. Hey, in my defense, it was supposed to be a surprise birthday party for a friend so I felt okay lying on the couch in the air conditioning after a day of working in the garden and not hydrating. Anyway, he knew there was a parking lot coming up, told me to sit and wait, he'd hike to the car and then come and find me. I didn't even argue, just started trudging off the spur to the parking lot. I found some shade under a tree, threw off my pack, used it for a pillow, and just sprawled.

When he left me, Dwight told me he'd be 20-30 minutes since he still had to hike to the car. Well, he was still two miles from the car, so I knew it would be close to 45. My brain was fried. I was lying there trying not to look like I was dying because people kept coming and going, and I didn't want to alarm anyone. Too much. But not one person stopped to ask if I was okay, which kinda surprised me. After about half an hour I felt like I might NOT die and started worrying about all the bugs that were in the grass, so sat up cautiously and tried to figure out where I was. And since my brain had started working again, I - duh - pulled up Google maps on my phone. When I saw where I was, I actually said OUT LOUD, "Highway 370. He's never gonna find me."

If you know my husband, you'll know that he is somewhat casual about carrying his phone. He had left it recharging at home so I had no way to reach him. He said he figured he wouldn't need it since we'd be together. Of course. So after an hour, having drunk all my water, I got up and walked around a bit, figuring since I felt so much better I would hike back to the car. But then I thought how alarmed he'd be if he showed up and I wasn't there, so I just stayed put. I knew he'd find me somehow, even if it meant driving to our house, getting his phone, and looking me up on Find My Phone. After another 20 minutes, I got a call from an unknown number (which I normally wouldn't answer) that I figured might be him.

Dwight: Where are you?

Me: Where are YOU? I'm by Highway 370.

Dwight: Where on 370?

Me: I don't know.

So after about five minutes, he pulled into the parking lot. When you're waiting for a ride, you can't believe how many black SUVs that look just like yours exist.

Let me tell you how glorious that air conditioning felt!

Funny end to the story: the other day we were talking about The Day Dwight Saved My Life and he said we just should've called Uber to take us to the car. And then we laughed and laughed because seriously, that would've been an excellent idea.

This is today - no ball cap, still sweaty

Buen Camino!