It is very important that I mention the extreme reserves of bravery that Dr Mom had to call upon. I had intended for us to to do a two mile, easy loop through temperate forests - the upper and lower Waimano Trail loop - but we didn't take the correct turn to the left to make the loop, and went incorrectly ahead onto the much longer and more difficult Waimano Ridge Trail. (To be fair, the hike books said that the turn was marked with a sign, we sure as heck couldn't see, and one of the books helpfully told us it was marked by two mango trees, two stumps, and a rock....which didn't help much either.)
Anyway, the Waimano Ridge Trail turned out to be about 80% easy with a couple of really hard bits. We strolled along the ridge path, which was quite flat and mostly wide enough to walk with ease. Then we met a small family coming the other way who said we were heading to a place where you had to use a rope to get along the trail. Since our guide book for the loop hike said we would need to "traverse the canyon wall" we thought, at this point, that we were still doing the loop hike. When we actually got to the place with the rope, we started to have our doubts. Hubby will post pictures of the spot in question. Suffice it to say that Dr Mom had to steel herself to hold onto a rope, reach down to a bunch of slippery roots from a high rock, and balance along the edge of the wall clinging to the rope, all over a pretty sheer drop. Of course Deep Thought managed it with no problem, and Little Starlet only needed a bit more encouragement because of having shorter legs. But Hubby was full of praise for Dr Mom for not giving up.
A few hundred feet further on, we met another rope dangling over a bunch of rocks above a narrow ledge. Gosh, we thought, and this walk is meant to be good for beginners? At this point I think we concluded that we were on the wrong trail. Dr Mom got down that one by sitting on a rock in a puddle. Coming back the other way was easier: We all scaled the rocks like goats, and even the precipitous rope-over-drop experience wasn't quite so bad (though both Little Starlet and Dr Mom needed a bit of a boost from Hubby, or our little, unathletic legs might not have made the step up).
Didn't we all feel triumphant at the end of that one!
Showing posts with label exercise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label exercise. Show all posts
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Monday, August 31, 2009
Climbing the Cinder Cone
Sunday morning - We set out on the 4 mile round trip to Cinder Cone and back. The walking is very hard underfoot, like marching across sand dunes. The cinders range from gravel size to sandy and are soft. We passed along part of the California Trail (Deep Thought studied the 1850s emigrations in school this year) through the pine forest and along the side of the “Fantastic Lava Beds.” They’re really called that: They are huge piles of basaltic lava rocks that were spewed from the Cinder Cone in about 1650, its last eruption.
Reaching the base of the Cinder Cone, you look across an almost dead landscape – there are a few new pine trees creating new life here – towards the “Painted Dunes”. These are cinder dunes that were oxidized during the eruption process and so have red lines and patterns on them.
We set off up the steep slope of the Cinder Cone itself (with a bunch of other people, including a family with a 3 and a 4 year old). The walking is even harder going here, and it really is steep, about a 35 degree slope. After about 100 feet, I could not manage any more – it was the combination of steepness and loose cinders that put me off – so I retreated to the base. Heroic Hubby and the Terrific Twosome continued upwards, about 1000 feet altogether, to the rim of the cone. It took them quite a while, and they felt the climb, but they had a great sense of achievement when they got there. While they climbed, I took the “bypass” route around the base of the cone to the point where it veers away into the wilderness. And then I sat on a log and waited for them.
Meanwhile, up the cone, Hubby was taking many photos while the twosome were groaning and eating pretzel rods. They walked a little way into the cone itself, then stopped before they had to retrace too many steps up yet another steep incline. The view from the rim was, apparently, quite spectacular. Deep Thought reports that you could see both lakes (Butte and Snag); Lassen Peak (which last erupted in 1914); the Painted Dunes and Fantastic Lava Beds, and various other volcanic peaks and lots of small trees. She was impressed, though Little Starlet was more concerned about the state of her legs and her shoes, which did indeed prove to be full of rocks.
Speaking of shoes, at the start of the descent, Hubby’s right hiking book fell to pieces. The sole became detached, and he walked back on the inner sole alone. Little Starlet brought the sole down the cone, brandishing it like a trophy in a big game hunt. They laughed at him a lot, and I laughed some more when they reached me on my log.
Most repeated sentence of the day (to Little Starlet): “You can do it!”
Reaching the base of the Cinder Cone, you look across an almost dead landscape – there are a few new pine trees creating new life here – towards the “Painted Dunes”. These are cinder dunes that were oxidized during the eruption process and so have red lines and patterns on them.
We set off up the steep slope of the Cinder Cone itself (with a bunch of other people, including a family with a 3 and a 4 year old). The walking is even harder going here, and it really is steep, about a 35 degree slope. After about 100 feet, I could not manage any more – it was the combination of steepness and loose cinders that put me off – so I retreated to the base. Heroic Hubby and the Terrific Twosome continued upwards, about 1000 feet altogether, to the rim of the cone. It took them quite a while, and they felt the climb, but they had a great sense of achievement when they got there. While they climbed, I took the “bypass” route around the base of the cone to the point where it veers away into the wilderness. And then I sat on a log and waited for them.
Meanwhile, up the cone, Hubby was taking many photos while the twosome were groaning and eating pretzel rods. They walked a little way into the cone itself, then stopped before they had to retrace too many steps up yet another steep incline. The view from the rim was, apparently, quite spectacular. Deep Thought reports that you could see both lakes (Butte and Snag); Lassen Peak (which last erupted in 1914); the Painted Dunes and Fantastic Lava Beds, and various other volcanic peaks and lots of small trees. She was impressed, though Little Starlet was more concerned about the state of her legs and her shoes, which did indeed prove to be full of rocks.
Speaking of shoes, at the start of the descent, Hubby’s right hiking book fell to pieces. The sole became detached, and he walked back on the inner sole alone. Little Starlet brought the sole down the cone, brandishing it like a trophy in a big game hunt. They laughed at him a lot, and I laughed some more when they reached me on my log.
Most repeated sentence of the day (to Little Starlet): “You can do it!”
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
In the Land of the Giants
And here’s our blog entry for Monday August 24….
The day started bright and chilly with the RV windows fogged with condensation and Little Starlet climbing into our bed complaining of cold toes. We spent 50c each on a shower in the campground facilities and it was money well spent (especially for Little Starlet’s feet).
Today was a hiking day. Over the course of five hours we walked a mile of the Bull Creek Flats Trail, then across the creek onto Mattole Road, up the Addie Johnson Trail (and back, as that isn’t a loop), and returned to Albee Creek campground via the Homestead Trail. Our route took us through silent groves of old growth redwood trees, where there were few birds or tourists to interrupt the solitude. We practically had the place to ourselves. Unfortunately, Little Starlet would not stop yakking, which really spoiled the almost creepy stillness of the forest; so Deep Thought and I pressed on ahead, leaving her with Hubby and his new camera to take many, many, many photos of tall trees.
Most overused sentence of the day: “Look, there’s a big tree.” It was one of those places that made you feel privileged to be there. There’s something about a tree that is so straight and tall that you can hardly see where the canopy begins that makes you feel insignificant. Some of these trees are 50+ feet in circumference, and 350+ feet tall. Some are thought to be well over 1,000 years old. It’s strange to think of a living thing that was already growing when the Vikings were looting and pillaging our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.
We were perhaps even more impressed by some of the fallen trees, many of which were real giants in their prime. When the trees fall, they pull up their root balls. They seem comparatively small for such large plants, but leave large holes in the ground, and tower above us like great tufts of ossified Medusa hair. Deep Thought was impressed from the start, and even Little Starlet stopped her chatting to focus on the incredible things around us.
Our walk up Addie Johnson Trail was a diversion, aiming to give us a bit more exercise. We climbed to the top of a steepish hill – Little Starlet shamelessly got her Dad to carry her part of the way on his back, while Deep Thought practically sprinted up in a display of Mom-shaming fitness – to arrive at a view and the grave of Addie Johnson. When she died in 1880 at age 27, she was the first white woman to do so in the area. We didn’t learn anything else about her, but an information board close to the Big Tree Area told us that pioneer homesteading began in this area in 1870. It’s amazing to think of European settlers coming to farm this land as recently as that.
By the time we got back to the campground, we were all quite exhausted and had a collection of over 200 photos of redwood trees between us. We finished the day with board games by the fire and some star-gazing. It’s been a perfect visit to a beautiful area. We would thoroughly recommend it.
The day started bright and chilly with the RV windows fogged with condensation and Little Starlet climbing into our bed complaining of cold toes. We spent 50c each on a shower in the campground facilities and it was money well spent (especially for Little Starlet’s feet).
Today was a hiking day. Over the course of five hours we walked a mile of the Bull Creek Flats Trail, then across the creek onto Mattole Road, up the Addie Johnson Trail (and back, as that isn’t a loop), and returned to Albee Creek campground via the Homestead Trail. Our route took us through silent groves of old growth redwood trees, where there were few birds or tourists to interrupt the solitude. We practically had the place to ourselves. Unfortunately, Little Starlet would not stop yakking, which really spoiled the almost creepy stillness of the forest; so Deep Thought and I pressed on ahead, leaving her with Hubby and his new camera to take many, many, many photos of tall trees.
Most overused sentence of the day: “Look, there’s a big tree.” It was one of those places that made you feel privileged to be there. There’s something about a tree that is so straight and tall that you can hardly see where the canopy begins that makes you feel insignificant. Some of these trees are 50+ feet in circumference, and 350+ feet tall. Some are thought to be well over 1,000 years old. It’s strange to think of a living thing that was already growing when the Vikings were looting and pillaging our Anglo-Saxon ancestors.
We were perhaps even more impressed by some of the fallen trees, many of which were real giants in their prime. When the trees fall, they pull up their root balls. They seem comparatively small for such large plants, but leave large holes in the ground, and tower above us like great tufts of ossified Medusa hair. Deep Thought was impressed from the start, and even Little Starlet stopped her chatting to focus on the incredible things around us.
Our walk up Addie Johnson Trail was a diversion, aiming to give us a bit more exercise. We climbed to the top of a steepish hill – Little Starlet shamelessly got her Dad to carry her part of the way on his back, while Deep Thought practically sprinted up in a display of Mom-shaming fitness – to arrive at a view and the grave of Addie Johnson. When she died in 1880 at age 27, she was the first white woman to do so in the area. We didn’t learn anything else about her, but an information board close to the Big Tree Area told us that pioneer homesteading began in this area in 1870. It’s amazing to think of European settlers coming to farm this land as recently as that.
By the time we got back to the campground, we were all quite exhausted and had a collection of over 200 photos of redwood trees between us. We finished the day with board games by the fire and some star-gazing. It’s been a perfect visit to a beautiful area. We would thoroughly recommend it.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
And When They Were Up, They Were Up...Except When They Couldn't Make It
Hubby has delegated all activity and route planning to me, so I have spent several evenings glued to the computer trying to work out ways to get back to nature, etc, without any of us keeling over. Analysis of the trail maps for the State and National Parks where I've selected our camp sites reveals an alarmingly large number of trails marked "strenuous" and very few marked "easy for people who haven't done any exercise in the past month."
I presume Deep Thought will be fine, with a week of soccer camp in her back pocket, following hard on the heels of her two weeks at away camp where she was board diving, rock climbing and so on. Hubby seems to maintain some residual level of fitness even when he is a total couch potato - and he has managed a few cycling outings recently, so he's not so bad. I'm a bit concerned about Little Starlet - whose weekly gymnastics class makes her very red and sweaty - and perhaps a little more concerned still about me, a person who needs to take a rest on the sofa after carrying in the shopping bags.
Hubby reminds me of an incident in our younger days, when we were walking in the Peak District and, in an attempt on a steep slope, I sat on the floor and refused to go any further until he gave in and allowed us to retreat downhill to the nearest pub. He seems to think that now I am older and wiser, and a mother, I might be shamed by such behavior (at least in front of the smaller set). How little we get to know our partners, even in two decades. Besides which, nothing about my lack of enthusiasm for exercise would surprise our two.
That said, I am eager to get out into the redwood forests and enjoy some nature, maybe even a bit of solitude. That might be asking a bit much for a family of four travelling by RV, but who said wishful thinking isn't allowed?
I presume Deep Thought will be fine, with a week of soccer camp in her back pocket, following hard on the heels of her two weeks at away camp where she was board diving, rock climbing and so on. Hubby seems to maintain some residual level of fitness even when he is a total couch potato - and he has managed a few cycling outings recently, so he's not so bad. I'm a bit concerned about Little Starlet - whose weekly gymnastics class makes her very red and sweaty - and perhaps a little more concerned still about me, a person who needs to take a rest on the sofa after carrying in the shopping bags.
Hubby reminds me of an incident in our younger days, when we were walking in the Peak District and, in an attempt on a steep slope, I sat on the floor and refused to go any further until he gave in and allowed us to retreat downhill to the nearest pub. He seems to think that now I am older and wiser, and a mother, I might be shamed by such behavior (at least in front of the smaller set). How little we get to know our partners, even in two decades. Besides which, nothing about my lack of enthusiasm for exercise would surprise our two.
That said, I am eager to get out into the redwood forests and enjoy some nature, maybe even a bit of solitude. That might be asking a bit much for a family of four travelling by RV, but who said wishful thinking isn't allowed?
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