Tweet
Or at least, it was supposed to be five days in the wilderness.
I had planned an ambitious weekend with my best friend, covering 12 peaks, more elevation gain than the height of Denali, four nights backcountry camping (finding our own tent site out in the woods, no platforms/campgrounds for us!), and about 56 miles.
Alas, it turned out to be too ambitious.
Day 1, I drove straight from work to the trailhead, and we climbed a wicked steep trail in high humidity, then hopped over to another peak. By the time we were coming off the second peak, I had been up for 24 hours straight and was totally drained. Then, with sx firing up, especially balance which always kills me on the downhills, I hit the ladders. Slick wooden ladder-stairs descending the hardest and steepest sections of the trail. Imagine that pull-down ladder to the attic. Yeah.
I made it down with a LOT of concentration and use of my poles. Any time I wasn't 100% focused on my body and the terrain, I was stumbling and weaving. I was so happy to fall into our campsite that night.
The next day, we slept in a bit, and then embarked on a bushwhack. We went off-trail, fighting scrub, trees, bushes, and nasty spindly baby spruces that scratched and grabbed and were nearly impossible to get through, all while navigating solely on compass/GPS and having to stop every ten feet to take a new sighting. Ugh. It took us almost six hours to make 1.75 miles. By the time we finally hit the trail at the bottom, I was draggin' hard. And theoretically, we still had four more miles left for the day, including another peak.
That so didn't happen. We camped at this perfect little river-side spot. We only made about 3.5 miles for the day, WAY behind schedule. I simply couldn't go any farther. And then, my poor exhausted feet started spasming, hard. A lot of painkillers got me through it, but that was tough.
The next day, we were rethinking our plans. We were supposed to cover 12+ miles (now closer to 16, since we hadn't gotten far enough), five HUGE peaks, the majority of our climbing, and get the farthest from the car in our loop. We did the first peak, and I had to cry uncle. It sealed the deal when my best friend fell and hurt her shoulder. My exhaustion, my symptoms, her shoulder...we just couldn't go on. We began the two day walk out.
By the time we got to the campsite that night and got our boots off, my feet were spasming so hard all I could do was lie on the tent floor and cry and gasp and whine in pain. There was no going on.
We walked out the next morning, knowing we'd see friends of ours walking in. We had to come up with a story of why we quit before we saw them - no one knows about my MS. I'll tell them eventually, but I wasn't ready. We blamed the humidity, the bushwhack, the shoulder injury - it passed muster. We walked out.
We checked in to a really nice hotel and proceeded to spend the rest of the day alternating between the shower, the pool, the hot tub, and the room watching movies. Oh, and eating.
By the next morning, after sleeping late and a good hearty breakfast, we decided that we weren't ready to leave the woods, and headed back in for a final shot at the mountains. We got one more peak, had a great little hike, and headed home.
I'm at a point right now where I stubbornly refuse to let this stupid disease take me down. I have every excuse as to why the trip didn't work, and most of them are perfectly valid. We were carrying WAY too much food, we should have started with an easier day so I could sleep, we should have left a night later so I could get on day schedule, we should have set up a base camp and done a series of day hikes (thereby significantly reducing weight), I'm just not in good enough shape to tackle these peaks with that weight on my back...the list goes on. But while I do everything I can to keep MS off that list, I have to resign myself to the fact that yes, it was a factor. Fatigued legs. Balance problems. Insane levels of concentration to keep from falling down the mountain. Spasming feet. It is a MonSter hiding under my bed, and I was sleeping on the ground.
So now I have to play catch-up. I want to be done with all the peaks by next June, another ambitious goal. I was supposed to get 12 peaks this weekend, and I got four. I've got to get the rest of those, plus all the others. I WILL do it, MonSter be dammed. I still refuse to let it keep me down.
And now, if you will excuse me, I need to go resume my pushups. Boy did they help when I was relying on my poles to keep my upright!
I had planned an ambitious weekend with my best friend, covering 12 peaks, more elevation gain than the height of Denali, four nights backcountry camping (finding our own tent site out in the woods, no platforms/campgrounds for us!), and about 56 miles.
Alas, it turned out to be too ambitious.
Day 1, I drove straight from work to the trailhead, and we climbed a wicked steep trail in high humidity, then hopped over to another peak. By the time we were coming off the second peak, I had been up for 24 hours straight and was totally drained. Then, with sx firing up, especially balance which always kills me on the downhills, I hit the ladders. Slick wooden ladder-stairs descending the hardest and steepest sections of the trail. Imagine that pull-down ladder to the attic. Yeah.
I made it down with a LOT of concentration and use of my poles. Any time I wasn't 100% focused on my body and the terrain, I was stumbling and weaving. I was so happy to fall into our campsite that night.
The next day, we slept in a bit, and then embarked on a bushwhack. We went off-trail, fighting scrub, trees, bushes, and nasty spindly baby spruces that scratched and grabbed and were nearly impossible to get through, all while navigating solely on compass/GPS and having to stop every ten feet to take a new sighting. Ugh. It took us almost six hours to make 1.75 miles. By the time we finally hit the trail at the bottom, I was draggin' hard. And theoretically, we still had four more miles left for the day, including another peak.
That so didn't happen. We camped at this perfect little river-side spot. We only made about 3.5 miles for the day, WAY behind schedule. I simply couldn't go any farther. And then, my poor exhausted feet started spasming, hard. A lot of painkillers got me through it, but that was tough.
The next day, we were rethinking our plans. We were supposed to cover 12+ miles (now closer to 16, since we hadn't gotten far enough), five HUGE peaks, the majority of our climbing, and get the farthest from the car in our loop. We did the first peak, and I had to cry uncle. It sealed the deal when my best friend fell and hurt her shoulder. My exhaustion, my symptoms, her shoulder...we just couldn't go on. We began the two day walk out.
By the time we got to the campsite that night and got our boots off, my feet were spasming so hard all I could do was lie on the tent floor and cry and gasp and whine in pain. There was no going on.
We walked out the next morning, knowing we'd see friends of ours walking in. We had to come up with a story of why we quit before we saw them - no one knows about my MS. I'll tell them eventually, but I wasn't ready. We blamed the humidity, the bushwhack, the shoulder injury - it passed muster. We walked out.
We checked in to a really nice hotel and proceeded to spend the rest of the day alternating between the shower, the pool, the hot tub, and the room watching movies. Oh, and eating.
By the next morning, after sleeping late and a good hearty breakfast, we decided that we weren't ready to leave the woods, and headed back in for a final shot at the mountains. We got one more peak, had a great little hike, and headed home.I'm at a point right now where I stubbornly refuse to let this stupid disease take me down. I have every excuse as to why the trip didn't work, and most of them are perfectly valid. We were carrying WAY too much food, we should have started with an easier day so I could sleep, we should have left a night later so I could get on day schedule, we should have set up a base camp and done a series of day hikes (thereby significantly reducing weight), I'm just not in good enough shape to tackle these peaks with that weight on my back...the list goes on. But while I do everything I can to keep MS off that list, I have to resign myself to the fact that yes, it was a factor. Fatigued legs. Balance problems. Insane levels of concentration to keep from falling down the mountain. Spasming feet. It is a MonSter hiding under my bed, and I was sleeping on the ground.
So now I have to play catch-up. I want to be done with all the peaks by next June, another ambitious goal. I was supposed to get 12 peaks this weekend, and I got four. I've got to get the rest of those, plus all the others. I WILL do it, MonSter be dammed. I still refuse to let it keep me down.
And now, if you will excuse me, I need to go resume my pushups. Boy did they help when I was relying on my poles to keep my upright!
Comment