Hiking with Hans

I was going to call this post Thursdays with Hans after the book "Tuesdays with Morrie" but then I remembered that one of our hikes was actually on a Friday.

One day I had a voice mail message from my friend and coworker Hans asking if I were interested in hiking the next day. My first lesson as a housebound invalid (okay, maybe a slight exaggeration since I can walk and ride the bus, but I haven't been able to drive or ride a bike, so it feels a little houseboundish) was "never turn down a social outing." So I eagerly called back and said that Tucker and I would love to go hiking.

Since it was a cool, rainy day, we opted for a Gorge hike. There's no point going to the mountains for the views if you can't see anything anyway and waterfalls only get better with rain. So we drove about 35 miles down the Columbia River Gorge to the Oneonta Trail where we hiked past Oneonta Falls and Triple Falls before continuing up along a stream toward the summit of Larch Mountain. This trail doesn't see a lot of use, but is well-maintained and signed nonetheless. We didn't have the time to hike the 20 or so miles round trip to the summit and would not have been rewarded with a view anyway, but we did go six or seven miles before we turned around. Despite the overcast weather, we didn't get rained on too much and Tucker had a blast running wildly after squirrels until he realized we still had to go all the way back to the car and tucked in behind Hans for the remainder of the hike.

A week later, Hans called again to see if we were interested in hiking. Rule #1: never turn down an outing. Of course I was interested! This time, it was a clear, warm October day and we headed toward Mt. Hood for one of very few trails within an hour of Portland that I haven't hiked before. There are two routes to a viewpoint on a ridge and we opted for the less traveled one--the Bonanza Trail that goes along a creek and past an old mine before climbing wickedly up. Again we went about 6.5 miles before turning around and most of the 3,100 feet of elevation gain occured during the last four miles. The creek was beautiful, the trail steep, the forest amazing. From a meadow atop the ridge, we had an awesome view of Mt. Hood and the warm sun made for a comfortable lunch stop. On the way back to the car, we spent an extra half hour picking chanteurelle mushrooms to saute up that evening.

Alas, this week Hans is visiting family in Wisconsin and next week he starts training to fly the Q400 at Horizon Air, so I have to find a new hiking partner for the remainder of my time off work.

Halloween

Although it rained most of the day, it's warm and dry outside and yet hardly a trick-or-treater around. Two years ago it had been raining for days and the yard was soggy and gross, but tons of trick-or-treaters. Last year it was dry and beautiful but cold and we had tons of trick-or-treaters.

Scott and I don't even like kids. We generally don't like other people's kids and we certainly don't want any of our own. Yet every year at Halloween, we carve pumpkins. We string up fake spiderweb. We hang a skeleton in the window. This year, I even put scary music on my iPod and set the player outside next to the styrofoam gravestones. But no trick-or-treaters.

Usually, the parents with small kids in tow start knocking a little after 5 p.m. Then the bigger kids with parents in tow arrive. Then a stream of kids that don't need parental chaperones. But this year the first trick-or-treater knocked at 6:45 (this does not include our next door neighbor Woody, who makes his obligatory costume display before he heads off to whatever party he's attending this year.

So here we sit, drinks in hand, scary music playing, too much candy in the cauldron, waiting for trick-or-treaters.

Exercising your rights

Since I haven't been able to work, or even to be particularly productive around the house, I decided to finally act on my long-time goal of volunteering for the O'Bama campaign (don't tell my parents). So I took the bus down to the local office and signed up. I'm rather introverted and both calling and canvassing go against my nature, but I sucked it up and went door-to-door for a few hours my first day out. And it was fun! Most people weren't home, but the few I talked to were very nice and we had some good conversations.

The next time I went out it was raining. Clad in yellow rain slicker and waterproof shoes, I set out on the rounds of my "turf." As I turned down my last street, with just a few houses to go, I paused to review my notes for the house in front of me. Presumably a husband and wife, 78 years old. My list is of known Democrats and/or O'Bama supporters, but newly registered to vote or with a sporadic voting record. I opened the gate of the chain link fence and knocked on the door of the small white bungalow. The elderly gentleman came out onto the tiny porch; when he found out why I was there, he asked if I could help him with some questions. I said sure--we're given some informative materials about most of the issues on the ballot so we can be of assistance if people have questions. So he went inside and returned with his unopened ballot.

He explained to me that he had only voted once before, fifty years ago. He wasn't really sure how to go about it, but he and his wife wanted to vote. She had never voted before. So he opened his ballot and I showed him the return envelope, which he had to sign, and how to fill in the ovals next to the selected candidates. I also had to explain that it was okay to not vote on a measure or a race if you aren't informed on it.

In the end, both he and his wife completed their ballots and gave them to me to take to the drop site (we're authorized to do that and even have receipts to give back). It was a moment of my day that felt very special--helping someone exercise their right to vote.

Pin-free at last!

I had the pins taken out of my wrist today after 4.5 weeks. Scott drove me because he thought they would give me anesthesia and I would be woozy afterward, but no such luck. The doctor just unscrewed the bracket, grabbed the first pin with a huge pair of pliers, and started pulling. I winced with pain as it left the skin. He explained that bone doesn't hurt, but there is a thin membrane around the bone that has nerves, as well is beneath and in the skin. So it hurts during the last part of the exit.

Armed with knowledge of the pain, I was slightly more anxious as the pliers gripped the second pin. But it was the fourth one that really hurt. As soon as he latched onto it it started hurting and I really concentrated on my yogic breathing. It also helped not to watch. Apparently this was the longest pin and the skin around it was a bit irritated. But finally it was free with a burst of dark red blood.

Now I'm wearing a splint that velcros around my wrist. I can take it off only to shower (but not until the holes heal over so water won't flow into the bone) and do some range-of-motion exercises.

Vacation

Here are some pictures from our vacation. We started by flying into Billings, MT--late, with an injured wrist, and in the rain, so instead of embarking right away on our backpacking trip, we spent the night in Cody. We got invited to Laurence's friend's house for dinner with the friend's new mail-order Russian bride. He's a gourmet cook and the food was awesome.

The next day, we packed our backpacks and drove to the East Rosebud Trailhead near Red Lodge, MT for our hike in the Beartooths. The ultimate purpose was to leave Samuel's ashes (he was the greatest dog on earth). The weather was perfect and almost no people. Scott set up camp in the dark (I was no help with one arm) and we opted to skip dinner in favor of a second round of hot cocoa with Bulleit Burboun (by now, maybe it was bourbon with cocoa--at any rate, it helped the Vicodin take away the pain!). The night was cold, but not as cold as the one we spent in the Sister's Wilderness a couple weeks earlier. The next morning was sunny and warm on the small gravel beach of Rainbow Lake. The ideal conditions caused us to linger here until the afternoon, endangering our upcoming drive to the Badlands of South Dakota. The only other person we saw at the lake was from Bozeman and he knows my college roommate Cynthia who lives in Yellowstone Park. Bizarre!

We carried Samuel's ashes in two water bottles which got scrutinized at airport security. We set the bottles on the beach with us and one of them attracted a butterfly that stayed for over an hour. I called it Sam's gaurdian butterfly.

Hungry after our hike, we ate burgers and drank local beer in Billings, then bought groceries for our trip east. It was 9 p.m. by the time we started the 7-hour drive. At 2 a.m. we gave up and pitched the tent at a state park in eastern Montana. We finally made it to Badlands National Park the following afternoon. We did a couple easy hikes. The scenery was spectacular! But we once again (third night in a row) set up camp in the dark. On the drive to the primitive campground on the far side of the park, we saw the sun set and the full moon rise at the same time. Really cool. The next morning we drove into Wall, SD (home of Wall Drug in case you haven't seen one of the ten million billboards they have around the country) for much-needed showers and a hot breakfast of something besides instant oatmeal. We drove through the main part of the park in daylight this time, then explored the area near our campsite. Lots of bison and prairie dogs.

The drive back to Cody was pretty awesome, too. We went through Sheridan (where we stopped for Mr. Misty's at the DQ) and drove over the Big Horn Mountains, through Greybull, then into Cody.

Life with one arm

If you're thinking that missing an arm for six weeks is no big deal, try putting one hand in your pocket for a few hours and see how things go. Here are lists of things I can and cannot do; I'll update it over the next few weeks.

I can:
open a beer
pull on elastic-waist pants
walk the dog
type with one hand

I cannot:
button pants with more than one button
apply deodorant to my right armpit
tie my shoes
do my hair
zip a jacket

The Dangers of Cycling

Portland is often considered one of the most bicyle-friendly cities in the U.S. We have bike lanes, bike paths, maps of bike routes, and aware drivers (when they're not talking on cell phones and otherwise being oblivious to their surroundings). While ridership has escalated over the past five years, the number of bike/car accidents has remained the same. Still, when I ride in town, I exercise extreme caution. I never assume a car will stop at a stop sign or signal a turn. I make eye contact before crossing intersections or changing lanes. Despite my paranoia, I still managed to get nailed by the "right hook," a classic accident scenario that is set up by having bike lanes to the right of car lanes where cars need to make right turns at intersections. This scenario has been made safer by the new "bike box"--a painted box that allows bikes to move ahead of cars when stopped at traffic lights, thus allowing them to proceed across the intersection ahead of auto traffic when the light turns green.

The bike box does not provide a solution to traffic that is continuously moving through a green light, however. Despite driver and rider caution, this accident scenario is likely to happen repeatedly. Most of my friends think mountain biking is dangerous--but all of my notable cycling injuries have occured on the roads