Another 7/10 of a Percent!

It's been a bit—last week I was grading like a maddened yak trying to get caught up before the break, and this week is The Break. We had a lovely visit with the young Eldeviks on Friday in their sweet little house (and its gigantic yard, perfect for children save for the excessive proliferation of Spiny Death Cacti—John has a strange sense of humor), and Saturday was all about visiting Granny Mel and Bud whom we've not seen for many a long month.

I had planned on doing a day hike on Monday to kick the break off, but once again my more-wonderful-than-could-be-expected wife offered more than I asked—she sent me off on Sunday afternoon. So my plans changed from hiking the Silverwood to I-15 PCT segment to something I've wanted to do since the start: hike down off the mountain completely. So I set off from Cedar Glen and made it down to Summit Valley by the next day--about 20 miles in 23 hours. (Hence the title of this post—my 20 miles is aboutt .7% of the 2,650 mile length.)

My goal was to really see how far I could hike in one day, since hiking the full PCT will often call upon the hiker to do 20 or 30 miles in a day. Clearly, I'm still not there. The odd thing is that I somehow think I should be after doing almost no hiking for years and taking on half a dozen treks in the last 9 months. I still didn't quite make my real desire, which was about 25 miles, but it became clear to me at around mile 17 that I had taken on too much. My legs were responding only erratically to my commands, and I was looking at calling for my ride home after the kids' bedtime, so I cut out early. (An apology to the good people at Los Flores Ranch, whose access road I used to get to the highway, and over whose fence I had to clamber to escape.)

Still, the hike itself was beautiful. I got to see Deep Creek again—I hadn't been down there since the early days with the Scouts—and I finally got to see the famous hot springs which I'd often heard about but never seen. (A nice spot, but so overrun by teenagers looking to party that the litter and graffiti are pretty overwhelming.) The winding canyon down the back side of the mountain had everything from thick pine groves to plunging stone cliffs to rolling grass-sided hills to shifting scree slopes, and though it was warm, it wasn't overwhelming.

I told Joanna that if she wants to disabuse me of the Ten-Year Plan, she ought to just let me go hiking more often—by the time I limp in from a trip like this, all I can think is that trekking for five months would be insane when I'm wiped out after two days. I've got physical stamina on my side, and some nice gear, and that's about it.

Ah, well. That's why it's a Ten-Year Plan, I suppose. Right now, I have to get to writing, which is what I'm doing in the mornings during the break. Your prayers on that front are appreciated.

Me Want Grading Be Done

It's affecting me to the point that I've apparently lost my ability to use subject pronouns correctly, and I'm leaving out possessives and the first half of infinitives to boot.

I'm trying to get caught up on grading before Spring Break next week. We'll be trying to do some work around the house, and I'm also hoping to do some writing work each morning. If I'm to do that, I have to get the school work done now, or my time will all be eaten up with that. However, we're also hip-deep in scholarship season, so I've got some hundred or so applications to read and take notes on for the daily two-hour meetings all this week.

And then I've got to plow a field full of snakes. Man.

I was recalling this morning that my posts used to be, you know, interesting. Or at least amusing. I'm not spending an hour at a shot on them any more, which is probably a good thing, but it seems I just pop on here to blurt out some drivel about what daily tasks I'm working on and then scarper. I thought that posting something would be better than posting nothing, but I'm beginning to think that that may have been a miscalculation.

A lot of philosophy and wit and poetry are going on in my head, really. They're just not coming out in the blog, or much of anywhere else.

All right—it's back into the dark, deadly wilderness of online papers. May I have the power to defeat them!

Tents and Truths

On Tents: I think I'm in love. And no, this isn't a threat to my dear wife.

I'm always perusing the journals of people taking on the PCT thru-hike (I must admit that every time I write the word "thru," my lip curls in annoyance, due to the vast percentage of my students who spell it like that in all circumstances. My hands are tied in this case--that's how the name is written), checking out what they've gone through and how the hike changed them (and if they made it at all). At this point in the year, most folks are preparing for the start in April or early May. One of the favorite bits of information is the gear list, wherein the potential hiker lists what he will be carrying. If you're interested in this sort of thing, you can read some of the journals here.

At any rate, one of the hikers mentioned her deep and abiding devotion to her tarptent. Holy cow! The testimonials are pretty convincing, and the thought of having a good, solid shelter for under three pounds and which can be compressed to the size of a softball is fantastic. If I were going solo, I'd be looking at the Contrail (one and a half pounds!), but the Cloudburst 2 is probably where I'm headed. One for Joanna and I, and maybe a Rainshadow 2 for the kids...

I probably spend far too much brainpower thinking about a journey I'll most likely be making ten years from now. As the basis for my non-fiction book, a modern-day pilgrimmage, it has a powerful draw on my psyche. Some day, O mighty trail... some day.

On Truths: On the way into preschool this morning, the boys and I were discussing how it is a good thing to try new food. Denver is the more adventuresome eater at this point, generally trying things at least once. (Oddly, he invariably tastes something and claims that it is delicious, but when more is offered he refuses it utterly. Weird kid.) Poncho, on the other hand, lives on string cheese, crackers, and peanut butter. Getting him to eat an apple can be a trial.

At any rate, I was congratulating Denver on his bravery, and encouraging Poncho for his small steps (he tried cheese pizza the other day and is very proud of this fact). As we were walking into the classroom, he said seriously, "If you love God, you will go to heaven, even if you don't try new foods." I had to heartily agree.

Journeys of the Heart

Sounds melodramatic, doesn't it?

I went on Saturday for a drive to have some alone time with God. I drove up through Wrightwood. I had never been before, which seems odd as I've lived in this place over 30 years and they're just the mountain next door. Wrightwood itself wasn't too spectacular (those of you in the know, think Running Springs but without the charm), and there was a fair amount of traffic headed for the Mountain High ski resort. However, just up the highway the valley opens out to present spectacular views—Phelan and the Mojave dim and distant to the north, the great valleys of the San Gabriels to the south. The highway ends not far past the ski resort, as most of it fell off the mountain during the heavy rains of a few years ago. However, I did find the spots where the Pacific Crest Trail crosses the highway, and walked along a bit from here to find a spot from which to take in all this grandeur. (If you zoom in on the map, you'll see a forest road leading to the right on the photo, NF-3N06; just above it a dirt trail leads up the crest of the hill. That's the PCT; follow it along to the first large tree—that's what I was sitting under.) I toted along my bible, a truck blanket, and the green brimmed beanie I got for Christmas (which Caleb has dubbed my "boo-boo hat" because of the small red cross logo). I sat under a spreading pine, the wind chorusing through the branches and shaking off large chunks of ice to rain down into the scree pile at my feet. It was a good time of prayer and thinking, but didn't clear up any of my current confusion. An issue upon which I need to meditate and with which I need to wrestle further.

On Friday, an appraiser came to look at our house, so it was a day filled with frantic cleaning and repair. It's always a bit nerve-wracking to have someone come in and judge your home; now we just have the wait to find out what value he sets, which in turn will determine how our current refinancing venture will go and what our budget looks like for the future. The good news is, if this goes through (Lord willing), we'll pay off all our credit card debt and our car loon in one swell foop (that last reference was for you, Slater).

Otherwise, only grading lies ahead. Endlessly. Forever and ever...

Well, not really. But it seems that way.

Weird

A great deal has been going on, and yet I've neither the time nor the brainpower to talk about any particular aspect in detail. Some highlights from the past month or so:

—Still coming down off the birthday thing. Actually, I'm talking with the good folks over at Freeform Games about turning the extra characters I worked up into an "expansion pack" for the party, so that's fun. Now if only I can get the time to get on that...

—Went on a day hike with young Dan last weekend, which was a bunch of fun. A beautiful puppy showed up early on and went along with us for the whole trip (about six miles). She was a great dog, and I was sorry to have to return her to the spot she joined us. Our hike was along the shores of Lake Silverwood, along the Pacific Crest Trail, and the weather was beautiful. This brings my total miles hiked on the PCT up to about 32--which is about 1.2% of the total trail. Impressive stuff.

I also got to test out my nifty new camping stove (the MSR Dragonfly, which I picked up for my birthday) for more than just boiling water. It makes fine Spam, mushroom, and pepper scrambled eggs—hooray for precise flame control.

—Got to see my sister a few times, as she was back to finalize the sale of her old house. I spent a couple of days cleaning out the odds and ends she and her roommate left behind before escrow closed—a tiring and surreal experience. Another link to the southland severed.

—Picked up and have been reading voraciously Eldredge's latest, The Way of the Wild Heart, which has grabbed my heart and my head nearly as much as Wild at Heart did, and I think this one may have at least as much to unpack. Blame Skaggs for bringing it up—I certainly do. A good thing, but it's put me in a strange philosophical place. A lot of prayer and soul-searching and questioning going on. Perhaps that's part of why this post is so strange.

—Sent off an audio demo to the good people at Blackstone Audio, but I haven't heard back anything yet. That's another matter for prayer—it would be a lot of fun, but I don't know which way to lean on that one.

—Big things may be moving in my life, and the life of my delightful, patient, understanding, brave family. We'll see.

So there you are. Not much coherent. But then again, neither am I much these days.

Weird, I tell you.