The secret to endurance hiking: fail to care whether you are comfortable. I went out for what was to be a near-ten-mile hike in Briones, and near the end saw a beguiling ridge I had not climbed in fifteen years, and though my feet burned already and my calves ached, I climbed it anyway, and then the next. I added only two and a half miles to my hike but another 1600 feet of climbing, less than two hundred feet shy of a Diablo summit in 12.2 miles to my usual 14 on Diablo.
I am 15 miles behind my year-to-date thus far compared to last year, but ahead on elevation gain by a thousand feet. This year has been steeper than the last so far.
I am still too locked-in, and the world’s back turned for the most part. The Steller’s jays sang to their own ends today. I sat in oak shade on 13-million-year-old seafloor reading John McPhee. Seventy-five degrees in the shade: six weeks ago we had a hard frost.
I was tired by the time I made the first mile today. I woke a dozen times last night hearing familiar noises in the house. The important thing is to keep going: I walked eleven more miles. The house will be quieter tonight.
Posted by: Chris Clarke
Categories:
Hiking
Send to Del.icio.us; Digg; Ma.gnolia; Reddit; Spurl; Newsvine; StumbleUpon
Login or Register to save this post as a favorite or email it to a friend.


