Underwear

Undergarment worn next to the skin and under the outer garments. From "under" + "wear", so called because it is worn under one's clothing. (Someone spent decades figuring this one out for you.)

Synonyms: shreddies, underclothes, undergarments, undies, undos.

Example: "My underwear is what I wear under there, everywhere."

Clothing that's EZ-On, EZ-Off. Whatever that means, really. Could be good, could be not good.

It depends, but if you're home alone, as so many of us are, all the time, forever, with nothing to do anyway, that could be an advantage. Probably especially OK for those pre-season training days when you decide to pull your Exer-Haggis out of the freezer and do a bunch of lifts and stuff to try getting in shape again. If you are really that motivated. (Not all of us are.)

Other things you can do in your underwear:

• Wonder what diseases you never heard of that water might cause.
• Think about what to say to someone who has cancer, if you can't just avoid them.
• Decide whether thinking positive thoughts or drinking more beer is ultimately better for health.
• Resolve to be a better person, or learn how to fake it. And some other handy tricks.
• Wonder why so many people laugh at you, or if it's only that invisible person who's always there behind you somewhere.
• Make up your mind once and for all about dog toothpaste.
• Plan to take a course on how to use bath salts, because you never know. (See item # 2. Could be useful there too.)
• Try to remember the seven sleeping positions for couples who aren't talking this year and if it might just be better to get an inflatable cat.
• Plan to do laundry soon.

 

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Me? Still wondering about that underwear-replacement tattoo.

What Now? Meat training for winter strength!

 

As everyone knows, backpacking season ends all too soon, and so begins another winter, the season of our discontent.

The sky grays, leaves fall, and the cold hand of winter advances toward our throats.

This is the off-season, the doorway to months of inaction. Though some make up for the lack of trail tromping by skiing or snowshoeing, it is not the same as actual, real, true backpacking.

Muscle tone fades, and joints lose their hard-won toughness. Bellies soften and enlarge.

What to do?

Well, how about strength training?

With very simple equipment you can make at home, it's easy to overcome winter's assault on your strength. If this sounds interesting, then here's how:

Prepare your equipment.

Ingredients:

• 1 sheep stomach, liver, heart, and tongue
• 1/2 pound minced suet (227 g)
• 3 medium onions, minced
• 1/2 pound dry oats, toasted (227 g)
• 1 teaspoon salt (5 ml)
• 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper (2.5 ml)
• 1 teaspoon dried ground herbs (5 ml)

After soaking the sheep stomach overnight in salted water, boil the other sheep parts and mince them.

In a bowl, mix in the other ingredients, stuff the stomach with the mix, and tie it off.

If you are a cautious sort, puncture the stomach with a fork. This will prevent an explosion during cooking.

Place the stuffed stomach into a pot and boil for three hours, then remove it and allow it to cool and air dry.

Now you have a solid, thoroughly cooked, dry, and pleasantly rubbery Exercise Haggis, or Exer-Haggis as the strength training professionals call it.

Face it, you can walk all year, even if it's not really hiking. Your greatest problem in the off-season is loss of upper-body strength. Exer-Haggis is ideal for combating this.

Upward sausage press.

If you've properly prepared your Exer-Haggis, it should be as long as your arm, which makes it easy to hold.

Lie flat and face-up. Use a bench or the floor. Either works.

Start with your Exer-Haggis resting lightly on your forehead.

At this point some dripping can show up if you chose the puncturing option, but keeping an Exer-Haggis refrigerated a few days before use ought to coagulate it and forestall problems.

Firmly but gently grasping your Exer-Haggis, push it upward until your arms are fully extended.

Then slowly lower the Exer-Haggis until it again rests on your forehead.

Repeat until exhausted. If possible, do not drool. (I know, hard not to!)

Horsie goes a-prancing.

Start on the floor, face-down, with your Exer-Haggis resting in the small of your back, like a small cowboy on a friendly horse. (You.)

Push against floor with the flats of your hands until your body is raised and your arms are extended.

Slowly lower yourself back to the floor without letting your Exer-Haggis buddy fall off. The larger and heavier your Exer-Haggis, the more exercise you get.

Repeat until you can't stand it any more.

Around-town carry.

Put on your coat, and, while carrying your Exer-Haggis comfortably in the crook of your arm, walk around town, frequently shifting it from one arm to the other.

Do your shopping, go out for coffee, or visit friends. It's all good exercise.

This, of course, will tire you, which is fine. That is the point. It means that you needed a workout, and got one.

An especially nice thing about having an Exer-Haggis with you is that it is naturally curved like a meat-filled travel pillow.

If tired, find any convenient chair and recline with the Exer-Haggis behind your neck. After a few minutes of comfy power-napping you will be fully recharged and ready to continue your carry.

What's next?

Sadly, no Exer-Haggis lasts forever. Yours will finally wear out, and begin leaking. If you are lucky, or if you planned ahead, you have a pet, or children, and they aren't fussy about what they eat, especially if you lock them in a room for a day or two.

Just slice up your worn out Exer-Haggis and dish it out. Before very long you'll have space in your fridge for a new one.

And since the Exer-Haggis is made from things other people never eat, it's really cheap to make. Go ahead, make two while you're at it!

No pets? No children? No problem!

Relax. Here's what you do.

Just toss each worn out Exer-Haggis into the freezer. By the the time the freezer is full, backpacking season has almost returned again. And that means it's time for some leg work.

Empty the freezer, and hitch all your used (and still solidly frozen) Exer-Haggis to a line tied around your waist.

Then start walking. All that weight dragging behind you will give your legs a stiff workout. You'll be way ahead of your friends on your first backpacking trip.

When your collection of Exer-Haggis thaws or you become tired of all the dragging, cut them loose and leave them for forest critters. They need to eat too, so it's OK. Bio-degradable and all.

And then?

If you really get into it there is always Haggis hurling. And no, this is not part of the dining experience.

You throw haggis.

Or, if that part is not for you, you can be an official such as a Hagrarian, Clerk of the Heather, Peater, Barrel Master, Haggis Hooter, or Distance Referee.

You might even be so enchanted after a season with your Exer-Haggis that you give up backpacking and begin hurling full time.

It can happen.

More:

Haggis Hurling, The Revival of a Traditional Scottish Sport
Glen Haggis
Lorne is haggis world record-breaker
Haggis gets a bashing from fakes
Address to a Haggis:

But mark the Rustic, haggis-fed,
The trembling earth resounds his tread,
Clap in his sturdy fist a blade,
He'll make it whistle;
And legs and arms, and heads will cut,
Like tops of thistle.
You Pow'rs, that make mankind your care,
And dish them out their bill of fare,
Old Scotland wants no watery ware
That slops in bowls:
But, if You wish her grateful prayer,
Give her a Haggis!

 

 

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Have extra info to add? Send email to sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
See if that helps.
Me? Wondering. Oh, OK — Haggis. It's what's for dinner.

Taking Steps

What's a prisoner to do?

Pace.

Luckily, my cell is large. I can take big steps.

I have room to rattle around aimlessly between the walls. I can go out the door, hit the street, and as long as I don't get lost, I'm OK. But this isn't really hiking, let alone backpacking, which I miss.

I spent most of the summer back in the U.S., sort of randomly backpacking around Washington State, living in a car I bought in July and sold in September, parked in nooks I found in the woods or in state parks when not on the trail. It was good enough. My time was limited and I didn't have any real plans other than to be there and enjoy summer.

My time was limited because I'm in the middle of a sort of probationary period defined by the Ecuadorian government. I'm kind of a refugee, a refugee from winter, so I'm now an Ecuadorian resident. An official, legal, recognized Ecuadorian resident. For the third time. Yeah, right — did this before. Blew it up twice. On my third round now. They let you do that.

The deal is, if you meet the requirements, which in my case is being able to prove that I have a permanent lifetime income of at least $800 a month, and no criminal history and so on, then it's basically a matter of filling out the paperwork and waiting a couple of months, and then you're in. You can stay. Forever. You can even vote. Such a deal.

And the climate here is crazy good.

Typical temperatures:

• Overnight low: 50° F (10° C)
• Daytime high: 68° F (20° C)

Wind: not bad, usually light. Sunshine: YES! Rain: Now and then, around 35 inches per year, or 889 mm, but things usually dry up shortly after a brief shower.

I'm also a former burrowing mammal from North Dakota (Land of the Frozen Dead), who moved to western Washington in 1979 and was amazed that winter never came that year. Things got darker and cooler and wetter and then started getting brighter and warmer and dryer. Summer turned to fall, which turned to spring, and then summer again. Wow. No winter, even though I grew my usual fur in anticipation, out of lifelong habit.

It was like that for a long time. A real treat for someone who grew up where the weather could kill you dead any time of the year, but especially in winter. Winter is an OK season too, but not eight months of it. That's nuts.

Well, eight months of cold or at least cool weather. In North Dakota my favorite month was October, when everything got dry and crispy and clean — no bugs, no snakes, no poison ivy, no humidity, no heat, no storms. Just progressively colder, and mostly calm-ish. Cool trending toward frosty trending toward frozen.

After that was November, which was more of the same, but a little closer to the killing edge, and then December and the holiday stuff, and after that January. I'm not sure what January is good for, but it was right in there like clockwork.

And then after January things got cold. Seriously, truly, uncompromisingly.

February was usually the coldest month in North Dakota. Brighter but colder. It's a characteristic of continental climates. There's a lag. It's like the earth way out there doesn't quite know what's going on, a communications lag or something, so the earth is always a couple of months behind, and keeps getting colder even after the sun begins getting hotter again. It's a thing. You have to deal with it. Or you die.

The last winter I lived in North Dakota, I worked outside. Delivering lumber and other building supplies by truck, around town. Just local driving. I walked to work. The coldest day was in February. Minus 35° F in the morning, minus 7 for the day's high (-37° and -22° C, respectively). Chilly. Not windy though. When it's that cold, at least the wind gives up and stays home in bed, so overall, not so bad. But North Dakota winters go on for friggin ever. That's the deal. You get tired of it.

And then you get older and it's not fun any more. So I left.

And after a few decades in western Washington I got tired of the gray winter skies. True, you can get by wearing only a windbreaker for most of most every winter (and by carrying an umbrella), but you start to go crazy too. In western Washington, it's the same kind of deal as in North Dakota, but with gray skies and drizzle instead of world-killing cold, world-killing cold and wind.

In western Washington, endless humidity and drippy skies drive you nuts by around January 4th, but things don't clear up until mid-July. Yeah, right. July 12th or 13th. I forget which. One day or the other. Like someone flips a switch. After that it's summer. Summer, and it all seems worth it once again. Summer's a killer in western Washington. In a good way. Best summers ever, anywhere. Usually lasting until the third week of October. After that, you start to see some rain again. Then more rain. Then November. November is the stormiest month, especially around Thanksgiving, but it sort of feels cozy. You get to stay indoors and eat stuff and watch the world blow around outside and the ground is suddenly covered in colorful leaves.

Which begin rotting pretty quickly. So they liquefy and then there is more rain and every day is a gray day, and later on sometime there will be a nice sunny day and you feel good again and then it rains for another two weeks after that, and so on. Yeah, right.

I spent several years living in Bellingham. Since I was busy starting over, learning math and physics and such I didn't pay much attention to the weather until I read the newspaper headline one day: Sun Visible for First Time in 60 Days (paraphrasing here, but a true story — from about 1982). It was actually front-page news.

It does make you crazy after a while, so when I got old enough I figured Hey, enough already, and moved to Ecuador.

And then got bored, and moved back, and then got bored with that and moved back to Ecuador and got residency a second time. And then got bored, and moved back to the U.S. and got bored with sitting around all winter (but summer was nice), and got a severe case of the galloping dreads looking at my second winter back there, and moved back to Ecuador and got residency an effing third time, and now here I am again. (Slow learner, wot? Cost me a bunch too, but money's free these days — it just rolls into my bank account toward the end of every month, so it's only numbers. I don't really have enough to live in the U.S. any more, but here I'm actually rich-ish. Can't complain. I'm free to do stupid things now and don't have to get up and go to work and be around morons any more.)

Oh hang on — I can complain.

First, I'm a dick. But then, someone has to be, so deal with it. I don't care. (Yes I do, but I'm trying not to whine.)

Second, there's this problem with Ecuadorian law. See, if you get residency, you have this probationary sort of period that goes on for two years. For those first two years you can't be out of the country for more than 90 days each year, or you lose your residency, and I've done that already, so this time I'm biting the bullet and living with it.

I was gone what was it, around 82 days in 2016. My anniversary date was December 7, so I have another 251 days to go until I'm totally permanent. After that I can be out of the country for 18 months at a time. That would work. Meanwhile, I can be gone up to 90 days again between now and next December 7. Happy Pearl Harbor Day, me.

After I see another year go by I can spend eight or nine months backpacking while maybe living in a van, and three or four months here, enjoying not-winter. (By the way, the UV index for today is 10. That means if you spend more than 12 seconds out in the sun your skin starts smoking and bubbling. After a minute or so your skin is fully cooked and starts to slide off. Been there, done that too. A week or two back the UV index hit 13, which will take paint off a cattle truck. But them's the benefits of living at 8000 feet or 2438400 mm. And no bugs neither.) For the rest of this week, the UV index will be just extreme. I'll write you when it's over.

But hey I'm bored again, even with all this bubbling, smoking skin going on.

The big humpy part of my day, the pinnacle, the acme, peak, summit, crest, crown, tiptop, the height, the supreme pointy part, is lunch. I do lunch now. That's my day, most of it.

After lunch, it's downhill. Not a whole lot going on, unless I go for a walk. So I walk too.

But I'm in a city. This isn't like hiking, let alone backpacking.

There are places I don't want to go, and places I can't go, and other places I shouldn't go, and then there's night. Days are relatively short here, year-round, since we're 2.54 degrees south of the equator. Sunrise at 6 a.m., sunset at 6 p.m., and then it's dark, and anyone with any sense doesn't go walking around after dark, and if you do, you quickly find out why not, so it's lunch and daytime tramping for me. For now. Though I'm still bored. And haven't figured out where or when I'll spend my 90 days of freedom during the next 12 months.

So I'm back where I started: What's a prisoner to do? Pace. Luckily, my cell is big.

And it has high walls. Maybe I can't quite escape, but I can climb up the walls. That's what I do sometimes.

"Cuenca" means "basin". The city is in a football-shaped valley. Officially, it's "Santa Ana de los cuatro ríos de Cuenca", Saint Ann of the four rivers of the basin, whatever that's about. Basin, watershed, catchment area, socket, bowl, hollow — take your pick. Valley. The city is in the bottom of a bowl-shaped valley.

To the north, the nearer valley wall. It's a short steep walk up to an overlook. Then it's a short steep walk back down. A decent workout that takes around 45 minutes if a person meanders around somewhat. Not too bad, but not a hike. But there are stairs. I like the stairs.

You can walk along streets and sort of make it an up-the-ramp walk or go the other way and end the ascent with about a hundred feet of stone steps (30m). Well, maybe 70 feet, but it looks intimidating from the bottom. Maybe only 50 vertical feet. Who am I, some kind of damn expert or something? It's a workout. Which is what I need. I go up and then come back down, huffing and puffing and snorting and farting with the effort.

But that's the toy workout. Nearby, accessible, quick, easy. Something I do when it's late and I have to do something but can't do the real thing.

The other one is the real thing: The Turi Trudge. This one can kill you. I love it.

Instead of going north, go south. See, the deal is, there is another valley wall over there. Conveniently, valleys have two walls. This second one is farther off and it's higher, and has extra special benefits.

Benefit Number One is, you get to tromp across the full width of the city. (Well, I live kinda to the north a bit, on the edge of what they call the "Historic Center", or el centro, so my walk covers most of the city's width.)

Benefit Number Two is, you get to work on your traffic-dodging skills. Which you have to do any time you step out of your door, anyhow, but let's gloss over that, 'K? And pretend that this here mess-a-words is, like, you know, imposing and important stuff. And that this is extra-special traffic-dodging.

So it's about a two-mile walk to Turi from where I live, starting with the across-town part and vehicle-avoidance, which includes running for your life and swearing, and all kinds of other fun things. But then you get there, to the south side of the city. And then the fun starts, because things suddenly get vertical.

Benefit Number Three is, stairs. Lotsa stairs. Stairs going up. To Turi. Turi is a sort of little town on the edge of town, and there's a church up there. (There's a church everywhere here — can't swing a dead cat without hitting several of them, even with your eyes closed on a cloudy day.)

Turi must be 500 feet up from the last road crossing, let alone the main part of Cuenca. Even in metric that begins to sound a bit imposing: 150 meters or thereabouts (152, eh? In case you're literal).

Cuenca from Turi.

OK, so first you walk the full length of Avenida Solana across town, and if you've managed to dodge all the deathtrap intersections, you get past the last traffic circle and there you are at Bocatti Tres Puentes. ("Hacemos lo que mas te gusta". OK, whatever.) In case you're in a deli mood and want to stop there and buy raw meat and just go home again. Again, whatever, all right? Get over it.

Which you do (get over it) by veering left and crossing the street. If possible. Because traffic, etc.

And then you take a right down the next street, and you begin ascending just about there. No fooling. By now the time for fooling is over. It's about to get serious.

And if you didn't think I meant it about traffic, well a year ago a bus ran into my hotel. Crash. Just like that. Slammed right into the corner of the building, maybe because it thought the hotel was issuing a challenge by not running for its life, or simply out of cussedness. You never know around here. Bang. Lucky for me I'm in an apartment in a separate building out back, so the first I new about all this was when I went out to to go lunch. (See the importance of lunch now? It teaches you things, like WTF is going on out here? I head out for lunch on a normal, quiet Sunday and here's this damn bus crossways in the intersection with its teeth sunk into the hotel and police all over, and about a million people all standing around waiting to see what will happen next, and all kinds of whatnot and you never know.)

So if you live long enough to make it that far, you go about a block more and there's a street going off to the right but you make a tiny jog left and enter what looks like a private driveway but isn't, and after another block the street ends and the stairs begin, but these are just the pretend stairs. They're there to fool you. To bluff you into going the other way, which will take you to a dirt road leading around the shoulder of the mountain and into some sketchy semi-farmland territory where it would be all too likely to find yourself facing a pack of angry dogs who need some tooth exercise. So guess who went that way once and lived to tell about it? Luckily the dogs were on vacation or something that time, but I'm not pushing my luck by going that way again.

Anyhow, the stairs.

Much nicer.

Houses on either side, with their gates and walls topped by barbed wire, but you mind your own business and stick to the stairs and that's work enough. Don't mess with them people and their barb wire, prolly they won't mess with you.

Just start climbing. Stop to catch your breath, turn around, and there's the city behind you, getting lower as you get higher, but that's not why you're here, so you get back to the stairs and climb some more, and after you're about ready to die you keep climbing and then you're over the hump and descend to the autopisto.

And it is a pisser. Four lanes, divided, death trap. But that's part of the fun, innit? Vehicles coming at you faster than light, with evil glints in their bumpers. You cross if you can.

After that, it's another block or so, and then another, smaller road to cross. Also a death trap, but what isn't around here?

And then...

A crude view of the Turi climb. (Can't find nothin better.) About a million times tougher than it looks.

The Stairs. The Real Climb. Death On A Stick. Pant-O-Rama. The Ascent Of Endless Pain. Around 500 feet up and no one to get 'er did but you and you feets. You there, with the legs and the attitude: Take this, Smartass. Just try.

So you do.

And after you've been there a few times (up once, down once), you think about doing two laps. Up once, down once, up again, down again or die puking. And then, later, you wonder about doing three laps. Hey, since you're already there...

You know. Life — something you do to kill time while waiting to die. Relieves parts of the boredom and whatnot and it's exercise.

So if I can't get out and do real hikes, or go backpacking right now, at least I've got this.

OK, sure, I should have friends and do stuff but I'm a dick, remember? So I don't get out much. I'm awkward, like a turd at a pizza party. No good at hanging out with other people and enjoying life. Haven't found them other people that gotta be here somewheres that I can do stuff with. I do know a couple of cats around here, and they're nice, but they've been avoiding me lately too, and one bites, but without them I'd have no friends at all, so I just suck it up and carry bandages when I go a-visiting.

I'm mostly deaf too. Did I mention that? On top of the rest I'm mostly deaf now too.

Yeah, right. More fun stuff. Mister Dick-O-Rama.

Woke up May 15, 2012 and my left ear no longer worked. I happens. Leaving me with my right ear, which is only slightly more useful for hearing with than a rusty shoehorn. So I'll never be any good at Spanish, or even at learning Spanish, which makes me even more of a dick whenever anyone on the street stops me and asks for directions, or just the checker at Coral or SuperMaxi trying to be helpful, and saying something, or asking me something, and I'm standing there like an ugly (though tiny) moose, with my tongue hanging out, all puzzled-looking and dopey. (Tiny — at least I'm not ugly and huge. Then again, neither is a tapeworm and you know how much fun they are.) And with moose, you know, you never know, even with the small ones, so I scare people once they catch on that I'm not actually a reasonably predictable human thing. So life in paradise. Ain't all you'd expect sometimes. For me nor them.

Somebody's working on setting up a Hash House Harriers chapter here, and that might help. "Drinkers with a running problem," they call themselves. Active people. I can't run (back problems) but I can walk like crazy, so maybe I could fake it. We'll see. No matter how fast they try to run away, there I'll be, coming up the backstretch. There's always hope, even for me. Woot!

Does anybody say Woot! any more?

Maybe just me.

Later then, if you haven't had enough yet. Maybe see you on the steps.

(Anything here you don't understand besides me, it's on Wikipedia.)

P.S.: Hey! Wanna go hiking sometime? Just kidding. Ha! Bite me.

Bye.

Great Questions In Backpacking

What do you do about legs?

Legs are often used in backpacking. True! Just go watch sometime.

What you see on almost any trail where there are people is that they are walking (the people, not the trail, though sometimes you see animals such as dogs, hermit crabs, migrating beasts, ducks, and, if you are in Australia, wombats at times).

You might ask then – hey, what's the thing that is common here?

Legs, my friend – they all have some legs.

First, when you have legs, your clothes stay clean because you are not always on your belly wiggling around. Snakes do this but nakedness is not an option since no one makes decent clothes for snakes any more, so they are off the table.

That leaves the rest of us, and we rely on our legs to keep our clothes clean, which is very important when we want to be served at such fine dining establishments as Taco Gong and Burger Doodle.

Snakes can't eat there because of the no-shirt/no-shoes rule, but dirty people are refused as well. Keep this in mind when deciding whether to walk or slither – you may regret a wrong choice.

Legs provide needed proportion to the rest of your body.

Remember the height-weight proportional rule? It is connected to your legs, usually as a small tag hanging from your butt crack area.

You have seen this tag on others when it peeked over their pants, but you probably haven't seen your own because your eyes are on the opposite side, and you are on the lookout for cougars and free-range wombats (if you are in Australia). Or maybe your tag fell off.

If it did, you lack the proof required to date legally, but on the other hand you have another reason to stay alone in the woods, so there is an up-side.

Legs also help you maintain a proper height.

Without legs you would be much shorter. Much, much shorter. Think about how hard it is now to get your food up in a tree for safety overnight. Now imagine getting it down again, and you can't reach the string at all because of no legs.

Bummer? You bet, so keep your legs stretched. Include regular exercises so your legs continue to reach the ground whenever you stand up.

Here is a telltale sign that something is wrong – whenever you stand up you fall down again. Sure, some people do this naturally. It runs in families, but they are not backpackers, so what do you care? That is no excuse.

You may be naturally klutzy, or your legs may be shrinking because you don't stretch them enough. Then they don't reach the ground any more. Find a mirror. Look. You may be surprised.

Stick with a good exercise plan.

Beyond stretching, here are other good ideas to keep your legs fit.

• Jumping: Use a shorter and shorter string to hang your food, so you have to jump to pull it down. You will find yourself able to jump ever higher as you lose weight from lack of calories, so don't worry if you cut too much off, if you are current on that stretching.
• Running: There is nothing better for legs than running. If you are not a self-starter then try throwing a few stones at the nearest large animal, or at fellow backpackers if no other animals are around that day. When charged, just run like crazy. Works every time.
• Riding a bike: This is cheating. Much better to steal a bike so someone chases you. Then you can practice more running.
• Swimming: OK for some, but generally it is better for the legs to ford deep rivers while wearing a full pack. Look for foamy water. Sometimes you can hear it calling your name from afar.
• Aerobics: This is from the 1980s and no one remembers what it was about, but the result was buns of steel – useless. If anything, you want cinnamon buns, or a few nice caramel rolls, none of which require heavy breathing or wiggling your behind while wearing funny tights.
• Squats: You should be doing this every morning anyway. Don't forget the toilet paper. After a while it will come naturally.
• Wait training: This is what most people do, figuring they'll catch up later. These are the ones that get eaten first.

Hiker Attempting

Records are made to be ignored.

Upon hearing the news that Josh Garrett pushed off to have a poke at setting a new Pacific Crest Trail speed record on June 10, I took a nap.

I'm in training after all, and if you're in training you keep to a schedule, or otherwise it's all wasted effort.

Effort. Man, that word gets used a bunch, doesn't it? It's getting so bad that whenever I hear someone say "effort" I just start yawning. Blame it on the training, or blame it on me, but that's what happens. Maybe I'm getting older, or maybe I'm getting wiser, or just maybe I'm approaching my peak fitness -- I don't know, but it must be one of those, and I think the answer is behind door number three.

You don't get to this level without planning, and planning is what I've been doing a lot of, because it's so effective at conserving energy. You could say that planning is the better part of valor, right after running away, but running away is way too much work for the payoff it provides, so I think I'll promote planning to the number one position and forget about running entirely.

Even the thought of running makes me and slide down in my chair and reach for the remote, which is always nearby since I learned that it's never too early to catch an old movie, and it's so relaxing.

In 2011, Scott Williamson set what is apparently the current PCT record of 64 days, 11 hours and 19 minutes, or 41 miles a day (66 km). Garrett will have to shove his way past that by doing about 42 miles a day (68 km). I expect he'll exhibit a fair bit of panting behavior while he's at it, skinny vegan or not, and no doubt he'll be looking at his watch a lot. Sounds like fertile ground for whipping up a case of carpal diem syndrome, which is like tennis elbow without the little white outfit, and affects only the watch-bearing wrist as it gets stressed through increasingly frantic attempts to grab more time out of the air.

I gave up on watches decades ago, about the time I realized that working was too much work. If you get up early enough to make it in by 8:00 a.m., they expect you to look busy for hours, and all too often they want to see what they call "results", other than your satisfaction and having spent a day worth living. Well, I eventually had enough of that, and dumped both the job and the watch, at about the same time, and it was a decent decision. Now I never get out of bed before I wake up. After that, I take what comes along. And I do some backpacking.

I too am contemplating a long hike, and a record attempt of my own, if I can get organized, which is why I did the planning and what got me into this training regime. Which is to say that my record will mean spending the longest stretch of time ever on my chosen trail, going the fewest miles per day it is humanly possible to do, or less, and avoiding towns and resupply points whenever possible. And the point of all this is to find those things that cannot be found. Some things have to come to you, and you never know what they may be until you find one of them crawling into your lap, or up your pants leg, or until you happen to look up and see one of them silently flapping by with a dead rat hanging beneath it, as happened this morning, right near where I live, which I never would have seen had I been killing my life by doing something productive.

In other words, there is nothing like waiting to stimulate the mind and invite random miracles. Most things are shy. Most animals, all plants, and the vast majority of experiences, which require a proper invitation and a show of respect before they tentatively come around to introduce themselves.

Another way of saying this is that you pass by anywhere only once, no matter where it is, even if it's your own doorstep, because each and every day and exactly all parts of that day are unique in themselves and will never be the same today as they were yesterday, or the same tomorrow again, which is why, for those of us who have tried this and that and some of the other, turning off the ignition and coasting to a stop brings rewards you can't find any other way.

After a while, after a stretch of stillness, after the novelty of anticipation wears off and you start to get bored, you begin to see what is actually happening. You understand that what you thought was only a smooth and undifferentiated background is actually not that, but an infinitely rich foreground, and all that rushing around and heavy breathing and shouting that is labeled "Urgent!" is only a collection of mere intermittent distractions that flicker briefly and then diminish to a distant tinny buzz before vanishing entirely.

Good luck, Josh. May all your trails be straight and free of roots, your days sunny and cool, and may you live long enough and well enough to reach your goals, to achieve everything you are reaching for, so you have time to return when you no longer care about that, when you can wander aimlessly inside infinite time, and be startled by what you realize is looking back at you from the forest.

More:

Hiker Attempting Speed Record On Pacific Crest Trail While Raising Awareness For A Cause

Hiking With Others - Some Tips

Bring yourself back alive, if no one else.

Create Excitement To Keep Your Companions Interested.

If you are leading a hike, it's the responsible thing to hand out route maps at the beginning, so everyone has one.

But on the other hand, it's amusing to give people the wrong maps.

This keeps your companions on their toes, once they find out that no two of them has the same map. It's endlessly entertaining to hear them arguing about where they are and what they're looking at.

To avoid unpleasant personal encounters, this is a great time to sneak away quietly and let them all figure out how to get home on their own.

If they can.

Make Sure That You Are In Shape.

Before you go on a hike with others, get into proper physical condition.

Try going for increasingly long walks through your neighborhood.

Some benefits of this approach are that:

• It's pretty hard to get lost in your own neighborhood, unless you're a total doofus.
• If you get bored with all the walking, you can watch the sidewalk for spare change.
• And you can keep an eye out for houses that seem temporarily unoccupied (in case you need more than a couple of homeless pennies you find on the ground).

Special note: It is uniquely important to be physically fit if you are going to be the hike leader and need to make a quick escape. (See previous item.)

Establish A Goal Or Reward For The End Of The Hike.

Again, this applies mostly if you are the hike leader. But you're experienced now, so it should be getting easier.

Take this situation, for example: You have led everyone off into the woods and now the whole group is lost. None of them knows where they are or how to get back.

As an incentive to returning home again, tell everyone that the first person to find the parking lot is exempt. The others will have to draw straws to see who gets left standing there when the rest of you drive away.

This presumes that your level of fitness is persuasive, and that your companions are all bright enough to realize what will happen to them if they do not obey. (I.e., they all die, not just the expendable one.)

This might also qualify as "generating excitement". Don't overuse it though, or you'll run out of hiking buddies and will be all alone again.

It can be gobs of fun to melt away about then and race back to the cars, where you can break into all of them (except your own, of course), and steal the valuables.

When the first of your companions reappears, start yelling and run over, saying you just managed to chase off a car prowler, who unfortunately broke into all the cars. Except yours, whose trunk is now full of wallets and so on. (A secret compartment helps in case a deputy sheriff unexpectedly shows up.)

Make Sure All Your Companions Has A Danger Whistle.

These are good when someone is lost or has to alert others because they work much better than shouting.

You, however, should also carry a portable recorder containing various wild animal growls.

Right after lunch is a good time to cut one loose, when everyone is sprawled out, relaxing, chatting, looking at the sky, or possibly even napping.

Tiger or leopard growls are most effective. Partly because they're so unexpected, but also because tigers and leopards have perfected their technique over millions of years while they chased down our distant relatives. And if not your relatives exactly, then surely those of your companions.

Remember, the people who escaped and lived to pass on their genes were those most easily spooked, and you are (obviously) hiking with their descendants, who are also cowards, so this works pretty well.

Let a few growls rip and then enjoy the shrieking whistles. Try not to wet yourself laughing because it leaves a telltale dampness and someone without any sense of humor might call you out.

Carry A Good First Aid Kit At All Times.

The best ones have at least two of anything you might possibly need, protected inside a metal case with heavy-duty clasps holding it shut.

Which means it's large, heavy, and won't dent or fly open if you need to use it defending yourself from your companions. If they take exception to your sense of humor. But if they're like that, why are you hanging out with them?

It's good to think about these things before the hike, but misjudging people is easy, so packing a wallop is good insurance.

Bring A Camera.

If everyone returns home alive and well, your photos will be fun to share. Otherwise, they'll be good evidence for your defense in court. If you know how to avoid incriminating yourself.

Remember: Practice makes perfect but you may only get one chance, so proceed with caution.

Assign Hiking Buddies.

Really tall people and really short people hiking together are fun to watch, especially if you can convince them that it's safer if they tie their legs together in a "Three-Legged Safety Harness".

But if everyone is the same height, try pairing introverts with extroverts.

One is a good listener and the other is a good talker, though it's good to know which is which up front, because when the "good listener" starts talking a lot, especially in a loud voice, and the "good talker" goes really quiet or starts screaming - well hey.

Another photo op. Especially if they have their legs securely tied together.

One Final Thing To Remember.

Reaching the end of the trail isn't the goal.

In fact very few trails have a decent ending, much less a happy one.

A whole lot of trails are set to loop endlessly, which is boring at a minimum, and can even lead to starvation, or at least to the strong eating the weak.

This is another reason to bring a camera, since most cameras are smaller than first aid kits but just as heavy, and easier to swing with that strap, even if you're weak from hunger too.

So, although reaching the end of the trail may not be technically feasible in all cases, being a survivor is a decent reward for time spent outdoors, especially if you have a convincing story about why you were the only one to return.

Happy Trails!

Trail Wussies Will Be Sorry

Strength training for strength.

"We've suspected this for years," says Dr. Kjell T. Tioga, strapping himself to a backpack the size of a Ford Taurus. "Suspected, but until now we had no proof. Now we do. And it's solid."

Staggering only slightly, Dr. Tioga then meanders around a circuitous route at his research lab's exercise center in northern California. He is demonstrating a technique that he assures will "Put the man back in manly and strengthen the back through backpacking."

Because, as Dr. Tioga and his associates say, the recent swing to lightweight and ultra-lightweight backpacking among enthusiasts may be damaging their health. Weight is actually good, and the more weight the better. It protects bones from developing real problems later in life.

"Osteoporosis actually seems to get its start by age 25 when bones start to lose tissue. So this study sends an important message to young men," Tioga says. "The more you move, the more bone you build. And carrying a heavy pack is essential to this process, and so, to health."

This of course contradicts the common sense notion that small light backpacks mean traveling in greater comfort and safety. As is well known by now, "common sense may be common but doesn't always make sense," adds Dr. Northon Face, another sports medicine researcher at the lab. "Evolution gave us muscles, and the bones to use them with. We have to do our part too."

Sports like basketball and volleyball have proven best at stressing and thereby strengthening bones, due to the jumping, the fast starts and the equally fast stops involved. Soccer and tennis are also good.

But there is a problem. "The problem with all these sports is that they don't get you anywhere. You're just bouncing up and down a court or on some damn field," says Dr. Gregoire Deuter, one of the highly respected female researchers at the lab. "Backpacking is special because, although you can't jump around while strapped onto the outside of a decent-sized pack, you do need lots of strength to keep from being crushed under it."

Previous studies suggested that load-bearing physical activity might shield men and women from bone loss, which occurs as part of the aging process. "But take me, for example," says Dr. Deuter. "Because of learning to backpack with correct equipment I can easily bench-press a horse. I make a lot of money at parties with suckers who bet I can't lift their cars. Sometimes I even toss cars on top of each other for fun. Shows them. And looking at me you'd never guess," she added, flexing her biceps and ripping her sleeves in the process. "Well, usually," she chuckles.

But is this for everyone? Isn't there a downside? Can't people get hurt by trying to carry too much weight? As the scientists form into a circle, begin growling, and then ripple massive muscles under their pelts, it appears that these are not valid scientific questions.

It's true, just read what the real Dr. Science says.

A short video showing proper technique.