Dealing with Corona Virus

I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility. -Jack Kerouac-

I saw a great viral post today on FB about how we are all not in the same boat but we are in the same storm.  Let me tell you about my boat.  I have seen enough in the news to be terrified of this latest version of the Corona Virus - Covid 19.  Doctors and nurses dying while treating myriad cases of patients with serious pneumonia is enough for me to want to keep my body and its asthma history at home.  Knowing that the virus has now become a top killer in our country has to get one's attention.  Otherwise, I can't complain.


My line of work is directly tied to the massive governmental relief operation, so I am fairly certain I'll have a job.  Our grocery store is struggling with inventory, but my family has found a way to stock not only food but fresh produce (and toilet paper).  We've used a number of restaurant supply options and brought home entire boxes of avocados, bunches and bunches of bananas, asparagus, broccoli, yams, and other produce.  So, we are doing relatively well compared to folks in Texas who line up in cars for blocks and blocks awaiting food distribution, or the 20 million folks who've had to file for unemployment.


And I'm doing well in exercise too.  Freed up from the daily commute, I've picked up about two extra hours in each day.  I've been using this to log 20+ miles per week in trail runs, some track work, and jogs on my favorite local footpath.  I've also made sure to go for walks even on my non-running days.  I'm slowly working my way into better shape, but it gets harder with each passing year to recover from months of sloppiness.


My Corona Virus passage is not unique.  I'm in a boat that is skipping across the biggest waves but has a defect that may, at some point, cause it to sink.  Not taking on water, but still subject to peril.  It is unnerving to think about things like whether a will is updated, or whether my wife would have a copy of the password to my IRA.  We're managing, but we have to be vigilant.  This is our current lot.

Even in this moment of "social distancing" and shelter-in-place, we still have freedom if we choose to find it.  Mary and I bolt for the doors and walk a quick 1-2 miles during our lunch breaks during the week.  This merely holds serve and keeps us at something like the level of activity we would normally have.  We don't want to be those folks in the FB memes who talk of gluttony, substance abuse, and obesity as being a natural reaction to our current constraints.  We want to get out, stretch our legs and expand our limited horizons.  We strive to make the most of this trying time.


So, I've been hitting the trails.  King Canyon loop is probably getting sick of me.  This stretch of East Bay Municipal Utilities District land has felt the soles of my shoes for years now.  Beautiful spring wildflowers, turkeys, deer, coyotes, and other fauna are my familiar friends.  But I'm not sure if they are getting used to the other folks coming through in this time of shelter-in-place.  The trailhead parking lots were so crowded that they were closed off, folks still line the nearby streets and walk to gain access to these open spaces.  I used to pass 4 or 5 people in a run, now I pass 4 or 5 people every ten minutes.  It is good to see them out there, and I wonder how much time these same people would be spending in the outdoors if nature was more of a priority in their lives. 


I got a new pair of New Balance trail running shoes and I love them.  They have Vibram soles and felt dreamy in their maiden voyage, a 9 mile run through the Redwood Regional Park.  My biggest complaint was that the soles had such good traction that I actually think they caused more right patellar strain on the downhill runs because they stuck so good in the dirt.  I think my legs were used to a little slippage.

Yeah, that right knee has always been a little more sensitive than the left knee, but here's to hoping it will keep me moving for a few more years before I have to settle for yoga or swimming.  I plan to keep motrin' along until it gives out on me.


Today, Mary and I explored a trail that runs on private ranchland above our house.  The hill has looked down on us for 7 years and we've never thought of challenging it.  Our boys have made the hardscrabble climb up the steep landslide scarred slope that faces their middle school.  They call it the "flag hill" because the rancher used to keep an American flag up there.  But there is a long trail that runs the whole ridgeline to nearby Orinda and has great views in most all directions.  Today, Mt. Diablo was in full view and we could actually see across the great Central Valley of California all the way to the Sierra Nevada Mountains.  The trail was lined with California poppy and other wildflowers.  A bottle of wine and some beet salad made for a great lunch.  The desert was rock hopping with my 10 year old daughter.


So, I'm sweating off a couple pounds, trying hard to keep a diet that is somewhat close to vegan, and enjoying springtime in Northern California.  Feeling about as unnerved as one can be as one who "can't complain."  I want to say "this too shall pass" but that is the unnerving thing, will it?  I hope.

Almost a Wilderness Trip

Mary and I finally got away on a last-minute hashed together effort to explore the woods again.  Aware of the Perseid Meteor showers this week, we resolved to get our out-of-shape selves into the Desolation Wilderness.  Far from the madding crowds, far from the bright city lights.  We set out to wash our faces in starlight.

Originally planned as a 7:00 a.m. departure and a hike into the Rockbound Lake area, we settled for a 1:00 p.m. departure and a stop short at Buck Island lake.  Driving about 3.5 hours from Moraga, we hit the trail much later than hoped and shortened our distance to 7ish miles in and then back out the next morning.  It almost seemed like too hectic of a plan.  How does one enjoy the wilderness when the coming and going subjects oneself to the famed red tail lights of California?  But, I must say, I found my Zen.  If only for a moment, I was happy to be there...then.

Well, temporary Zen, perhaps.  Our dispersed campsite was on a rock outcropping by a big old broken cedar (?) across a lake from the end of the "Rubicon Trail", a famous place (?) where off road vehicle enthusiast's subject their otherwise pavement bound machines to the primitive wilds of the earth.  Jeeps and other 4 WD vehicles clamber over boulders well into the evening.  Aided by those roll bar topping lights, the purpose of which previously had always escaped me, they clanked and grinded gears well into the night.  Where the track they were driving on meandered in our direction their lights pointed right at us.  Our campsite was, to borrow a term from the Urban Dictionary, "Lit" from top to bottom.  We had light beams both shining straight at us and reflecting up at us from the lake.  I felt like Julia Louis-Dreyfuss character in "Christmas Vacation" when Clark Griswold turned his exterior Christmas lights on.

But I must say that it was entertaining listening to a guy curse at his stuck Jeep from across the small lake.  Sound carries almost as well as light across open water.  And it all just reinforced my love of cheaper hobbies.  We continued to watch in amusement as we ate dinner.  Turkey sandwiches and Pinot Noir, now that is more like it.

Mary got tired early and I can't say I blame her for wanting to turn it in.  I spent entirely too much of the twilight, turned low light, trying to figure out the how to operate my camera on high ISO settings, necessary for night photos.  But once I did I started taking some good night shots (see attached images).  I snapped and snapped away.  I started figuring things out after many missed shots including some images that had potential, but look too grainy, pixelated, over exposed, or underexposed.  I am going to have to do my homework on how to better capture shooting stars on my Canon 60D.  But even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in awhile.  After seeing countless meteors rain from the heavens only to escaped my camera's pixels, I think I caught one.  See if you can find it in the night images attached.

It was a mild dry night, so we left our tent's rain fly off.  Looking up through the screen, we could see shooting starts at least once per minute.  A few little critters moved through our site while we slept, but none of the Sierras mischievous black bears.   My first night sleeping outdoors is usually a restless affair, but I slept fine on the soft ground when I wasn't screwing around with my camera.

Up early, a quick cup of tea and some oatmeal, and back on the trail.  We moved fast, turning a 3 hour hike in, into a 2 hour hike out.  That's what 10 degrees cooler temperatures and a net drop in elevation over 7 miles would do. 

Overall, I consider this a pleasant trip.  You'll hear boomboxes coming from the road across Loon Lake when you first head in and, as discussed, more disturbing off road vehicle noises at night.  I would definitely recommend getting an earlier start and pushing a few miles deeper into the Desolation Wilderness area.  Some online posts said that our initial destination of Rockbound Lake wouldn't even have been enough to get away from the noise, so plan an initial ten mile hike, which shouldn't be too tough on this generally sand, gravel and pine duff trail.