A Great Dog, Sadness

13 or 14 years ago Leslie saw a stray dog running free on our street with the dog-catchers after him. He got away from the dog-catchers and Leslie brought him home and he immediately ran from our home. I saw him later that day and thought, what a great looking dog and I brought him home. And so Judo (AKA Buddy) came to live with David, Leslie, and me. His first night with us it was snowing or sleeting and we tried to keep him inside, but he was going kind of crazy, howling and throwing himself about, so around 1am, I let him out in the back yard. I had some straw for the garden and I piled some up close to the back door, made a kind of hole in the top, got him in there and put some more straw over him. He slept all night, curled up, warm and cozy. As our friend Jay put it, he was saved.

David named him Judo, meaning “divine wind.” For months and months he would escape the back yard and at the end of the day turn up on the front porch. He would bring stuff home, like a horrible turkey carcass or a big piece of moldy cheese or most notably, a deer leg – and then another deer leg. He was always a little or a lot wild. It was several years before anyone would put their face close to his. We tried for awhile to find another home for him, but he was a tough sell – fortunately for us.

Judo was half golden retriever and half pit bull. His fur was gold and his head was big and his jaws were impressive. He was a warrior. He loved to fight and every male dog (especially the uncastrated ones) he caught out was sent running and crying or ended up on its back in abject surrender – except for Mr. G, an equally bad boy (chow) that Buddy hated and was hated right back with equal fervor. Their fight was epic and bloody and though Buddy got the best of Mr. G, the fight wasn’t over until Leslie soaked them both down with pepper spray. He was the King of our street.

Except where other male dogs were concerned Judo was a sweet dog. Well, he wasn’t sweet to cats, raccoons, opossums, squirrels, and rats. But he was sweet with humans and female dogs, especially our good old Goldy. Maybe he wasn’t all that sweet. He never tried to get people to play (except for David and me). He never, ever played rough with us – too much of a warrior for that, I always thought. Maybe the best words for me to use to describe him are warrior and dignified.

See him jumping up on the trunk of the car, to the roof, across the hood, to the ground and away. See him leap at the black lab barking, running at him (Buddy never barked as a threat - he always went in silently or with come kind of roar) and see him take the lab down to complete capitulation and whirling in the air (literally) to race up the driveway after the cat that apparently thought he could just walk around any old time. Hear him talk, "Heelllooooo." See him leap up and then over the 5 foot high wall of the Christmas tree fort. See the greatest yawn and stretch, stretching. And every morning, beside my side of the bed - Good Morning to you too. Ahhh, Buddy.

Here is a journal entry 7/2006: Buddy went down for a long count. He hurt himself lunging trying attack two other dogs. For a couple of days he could barely stand until he'd had at least an hour of aspirin on-board. Even with the aspirin, he would fall over when he tried to lift his leg to urinate. Today he's eliminating in every way and able to get up and down without much difficulty. And, when he came inside this afternoon he was helicoptering. AV (Always Violent) Buddy.

Over the years he became uncannily skilled at predicting where we would walk and he would lie down in our path. Door-lying we called it, and he got really, really good at it. It made things interesting going to the bathroom or down the hall in the middle of the night - "Dammit Judo!" Here is another journal entry (3/2009): Door-lying (see photo above), teetering, friendly, earish, innocent (see photo below), perfesser, helicoptering, sensitive nose Buddy, awww, just plain sensitive, donutting, truck-stopping, cute, annoying, always violent, sincere, tufted, awkward-lying, hopeful, appealing, publicity pooping, handsome, noble (see 1st photo) Buddy!

The back injuries happened several more times, and each time recovery was a little slower. His hips were somewhat dysplased and this became more pronounced over time. He’s been on daily aspirin for more than a year and for about the same length of time, unable to negotiate more than a few stair-steps. For the past several months, he’s stumbled 1-2 times every time we walk (which is every morning and every night). His right foot drags when he walks. He has had increasing difficulty lying down and getting up. He has also lost about 90% of his hearing and has cataracts.

The day before yesterday, David and I were working on Judo’s dog house and while we were doing that Judo took one of his trademark giant leaps. It was his last one. Since then he had terrible difficulty lying down and getting up. He cried when he tried to lie down and again when he got up. He could barely walk, but spent too much time pacing restlessly.

So today we took him to the vet, who offered to try a glucosamine and prednisone, the latter requiring 4-5 days off aspirin – and since for a year, missing aspirin caused him pain and because his back and hips were pretty much wrecked on the inside, we said no. So the vet gave him a sedative and within 1-2 minutes he was resting for the first time in days. He was lying on Leslie’s feet and I was sitting on the floor. Oh, what a relief to see him relax. Buddy licked my hand twice. About 10 minutes after the first shot, the vet came in and gave him an IV and he died so quietly.

Buddy died with his balls on and his dignity intact. He was a magnificent dog and he had a great life.

En la clinica

(For travel in Asia, go to 11/2008-1/2009)

Random thoughts in this last week of May, 2009. There were three Burmese (Karen) patients in the clinic today. Diagnoses included depression x 2, anxiety, insomnia, hypertension x 2, diabetes, nodules of unknown etiology, and so on. Two of the patients came in with our outreach worker and one with a woman involved in several Baptist-sponsored orphanages in Burma and on the border. So when Diana, the Grace pastor came down to the clinic for her weekly prayer with patients and staff in the waiting room, we all gathered (since swine flu, no longer holding hands) and Diana began her prayer (translated by Nora), with, “Dear God, our father and mother …” and meanwhile several of the Cristianas were muttering accompanying prayers and babies fussing and a toddler trying to get her mother’s attention, “Ma! Ma!” And there we all were, Mexican, Salvadoran, Karen, Mexican-American, Anglo – hearing and praying a prayer for healing, understanding, acceptance, and gratitude.

Photo above is borrowed from the Smithsonian Magazine article on Amerasians (June 2009). The older man at the table is Thao D (Uncle Thao), who came out of prison dedicated to liberating all people, including Amerasians. Uncle Thao is a Great Man, a manifestation of the beauty we all can be. See the upside down photo of the pretty girl with the checked dress on? I knew her too. Photo below: Pat B and one of her patients in the pharmacy. What a life we lead!

Later I wondered what people thought about the prayer to “God, our father and mother…”

I was saying to one Karen person, that when we were in Burma we were treated with kindness and that the country was beautiful. I didn’t say (and should have) that overall, it seems to me that people in & from Burma have a gravitas, a sense of dignity and substance. Back in the 1970s someone said, like royalty in tatters.

As part of her masters in social work, Erika R spent more than a semester in the Agape Clinic examining mental health disparities among Hispanics. Her most startling finding was that the main barrier to mental health services was that people were unaware of a mental health concern (72%).

(The following are conclusions drawn by me.) In other words, most patients who receive mental health care at Agape did not realize or acknowledge that they had a problem; they thought being depressed was just the way life goes. During the course of care for chronic or acute physical illnesses, patients are often asked questions like, “On most days are you mostly happy or mostly sad?” A positive response elicits further assessment questions and sometimes leads to the conclusion that the patient is experiencing depression and/or an anxiety disorder. Treatment is offered and provided when appropriate – in many cases, including further evaluation and treatment through Dr. K. Photo: in exam room 1.

Memorial Day 2009

I got the below email yesterday. My response follows. Photo taken at Con Thien, by someone else.

Charles,
I'd like to express my appreciation for your articles and photographs. They first caught my attention last year when I tried to find info on some of the guys from Santa Barbara County, especially Jerry Georges. I went to jr. and senior high school with Jerry. I wonder if you would like to see a couple of pages about Jerry from our 1964 yearbook? He was student body president that year.

On my tour I passed very close to your area on my way to Vandegrift and other places up north. I was with an engineer battalion in III Corps.

Let me know and I will be glad to email the yearbook pages. I think you will find them interesting, especially in light of the kind comments you made about Jerry.
Randy

Randy,
Thank you – yes, I’d like to see those pages about Jerry. Don’t know if you came across what I said about an older friend of mine bringing his close friend to our Bible study group a couple of years ago. The friend was from Santa Barbara and as it turned out, was a leader in (I think I have the organization name right) Young Life. Jerry was involved in that organization and my friend’s friend remembered Jerry with great warmth and respect. In my experience, Jerry was a good guy; I’ve come to realize that had he lived, he probably would have been a great man. What a loss. And here we are on Memorial Day.
Charles

"I'll go"

(For travel in Asia, go to 11/2008-1/2009)

Last week I spoke at the main service at my church. The idea was that I would speak to the help given our clinic (Agape Clinic) by the First Presbyterian Foundation. During the service I sat next to Dan F, my spiritual teacher for these past 15 or so years and that was a great honor for me. Here is what I prepared for the talk and pretty much what I said:

A front page feature article in the Morning News today is titled, “Facing an Ailing System – North Texans figure out ways to cope as they find limited remedies for affordable care.”

The Texas Medical Association website reports 16% of people in America are uninsured and Texas is in (where else) last place with 25% of the population uninsured.

At Agape – with wonderful help from this church – we serve the uninsured, the working poor, the people who process the chicken we eat, who mow our lawns, who clean our offices and hospital rooms – we serve the people who cannot get Medicaid, who cannot access services at Parkland or Project Access or Homes or anywhere else.

We serve our patients and families and community with:

• Primary care for acute illness
• Specialty care, including psychiatry, dermatology, gynecology, pediatrics, asthma
• Spiritual care (with help from our wonderful new Grace pastor, Diana Holbert)
• Community education
• Follow-up for patients with chronic illness
• Health screening
• Service learning site students from Baylor, UTSW, UTA and others

We are unique among community-based clinics in that we do all the above AND we are a medical home for people with chronic illness – the Morning News article gives some insight into how hard that is to find.

The FPC Foundation invests in the Agape Promotoras de Salud – the lay health promoters, women from the community (clinic patients) who triage and teach our patients, who teach in the community, who assist doctors and nurses, who provide spiritual care, who are the connections among patients, clinic, and community. When the swine flu thing started nobody knew how it would go – a disaster or just another variation on influenza (pretty bad in itself!). I asked the promotoras if anyone would work the fever, cough and congestion hall with me and Irma said, “I’ll go.”

A moment ago I said, “with wonderful help from this church” – I was referring to monetary help. But I also mean other sorts of help – the support from the men in G5 Men’s Bible Study – and especially I meant the support, when I have nothing left to give, of a church where we’re taught that practicing mercy is a spiritual practice. And it’s not a theoretical teaching – it’s reality here, in the lives of teachers, at the Stewpot, in hospital visits, in support for incarcerated youth, in people’s homes when Cynthia brings communion to the sick and the dying. It’s a good church.

So, on a personal note, it’s good to have a church home and I thank you.

Oink!

(For travel in Asia, go to 11/2008-1/2009)

May 1st & 5th - Here we are in the time of swine flu, nobody knowing how it will play out and the way we’re addressing it at Agape is to triage patients at the door and send everyone with flu-like symptoms one way and everyone else through the waiting room and on into the clinic. Irma, Pat and I are seeing the patients in the fever, cough, etc. area. I’m thinking, well, here I am again.

But what prompts me to write (now that the swine flu crisis seems to have passed) is that I saw this photograph of a young woman named Thao (one of my favorite names) studying in her dorm room in medical school in Haiphong. Check out that desk, and the closet at the head of the bed, and how about the mattress (we're thinking the bottom bunk is the same). An Australian woman we know - Alison - created this extraordinary opportunity for Thao to go to medical school. Thao's family is very very poor (single mother, seriously ill, forages in trash to survive) and there is no chance she would have made it without Alison and you, Alison, are the salt of the earth.

As I think about being back in the mountains, looking at photos of the Beartooths and Wind Rivers, the swelling in my chest feels almost physical. What a great thing it is to contemplate the (likely) reality that I will again stand in the cold alpine wind in the high mountains, surrounded by raw and sublime beauty. What a thing to be here! Alone on a high mountain meadow in August; by icy tarn waters, looking up at the night sky with stars by the millions right here/now, sitting among a million tiny alpine flowers, scrambling across rocky domes, and here come the clouds and soon the snow – first flecks of sleet, more, now the snow – ahhh.

The things that helped me get going into the mountains again include:

• The Sierra Club took me on my 1st return trip – Big Bend for a wonderful time.
• The backpackers.com forum has been immensely helpful in giving me knowledge and inspiration. Hikerjer (words) and swimswithtrout (photos) show the true heart of the matter and I’m grateful to them.
• Always, of course, Leslie, my beautiful understanding and supportive wife (and partner in the back roads and alleys of Southeast Asia).

Clarification on no “I” “to be” – not here, of course; and it’s incomprehensible to think that this “I” would endure beyond death. I mean, what a disappointment to still be regular old me with my weaknesses and faults and lies hopefully (even if still just barely) outweighed by my strengths and goods and truths. AND an infinitely higher I (and of course, thou) seems certain.

When you find out who you are, beautiful beyond your dreams.

In the Garden

(For travel in Asia, go to 11/2008-1/2009)

I was talking with Chris H, who asked what I have planned after Grand Canyon. I told him probably a festival in late spring or early summer, then the Beartooths about 8/15-8/30 and Wind Rivers 9/1-9/15. Part of the Beartooths and Winds will be with other people (Mike H and Jeff, so far) and part alone. Chris expressed concern for my safety when I’m alone in the wilderness, “What if something happens … it’s the suffering you might go through that worries me.” (Mara?) Okay, what if something does happen? All garden photos taken April 2009.

Like anyone else, I’ve gone through various stages in life: the usual (which is not nothing!), then war, then healing, love, being a husband, momentary glimpses of enlightenment that led me up the path of service for 40 years (hospice, refugees, immigrants – life as a quest), working with Leslie, travel, being a father and my/our relationship with David, getting tired, and now this partial retirement, backpacking and through it all, since the war and all the killing, a deep awareness of mortality – thinking about the fragility of life and considering my own dying and being dead (I’m not sure how I can be dead, since when I’m dead there’ll be no “I” “to be” anything at all, except gone). I’ve studied dying and death and I’ve worked in and written on hospice. So I’m no stranger and I really do know that death don’t have no mercy in this land.

I haven’t written about this all that much, but truly, since Leslie said in 2004, “Why don’t you and David and Jeff go to Vietnam?” it’s been as if my life is complete, though it’s been complete for quite awhile. The trip itself brought several things full circle (war, Cambodians, my relationship with Leslie, David), but her saying that, right then, right there was where I went over the line.

And all this with no intimation of imminent death; but who knows except for people with cancer and like situations? I’m just trying to say, whatever comes, comes and I think about these things. As for the grief, I’m sorry. On some level, at some time, knowing these things may put things into perspective and thus be helpful.

I hope to have a long time left, but if I die before I wake, it’s okay. I’m not looking for it and I don’t embrace it, but I know, having faced this thing before, it’ll be like, okay. Kind of funny when you think about it – all this drama, loving, striving, suffering, joy, dreaming, risk, living, and … okay.

What if there is suffering? What if I have a heart attack and take 2 or 3 days to die alone in the wilderness? Far out, that’s what. I’m sure I’ll be saying, “Oh man, not this much suffering!” But when there’s no place else to go, you can bet it all that I’ll surrender and at worst, it will be, “Okay.” More likely, at this stage of life, it’s, Into the Light.

And I bid you good-night (a little further up the road).

Photo above right, from the right: Chuck, my chair, Julius, Jim, Dave, Bryce, Chris - G5 men's Bible study at Bryce's ranch. We sang (or mostly Jim sang) In the Garden, Old Shep, White Sport Coat (and a Pink Carnation), Crazy, Streets of Laredo, You Win Again, Ghost Riders in the Sky, Your Cheatin' Heart, St. James Infirmary, Amazing Grace (and so it was).

Grand Canyon

More photos are here.

Departure: it was a light day at la clinica and plenty of people working (Pat B, Vuong D, Joe C., Aaron M), so I got out at 1100. Leslie and I went to lunch at Whole Foods and then home to put in the ice chest, fix the front seat for traveling and take off. Photo below: New Mexico

West on I20 past Fort Worth, Abilene, Midland/Odessa with oil wells and windmills stretching off into the distance (all that money and all those fools got was bigger pick-up trucks and good football teams) and on to Pecos, my objective for the day. I pulled into one of the new rest stops (clean restrooms, wireless, “watch for snakes”) and set up the Campry for sleeping. It was a little early (8:30) and I couldn’t sleep, so got back on the road and got to Van Horn and another good rest stop. I slept fairly well with the cool wind and occasional splatting rain and the big rigs rumbling past and winding it up in low out of the rest area. Got up to use the restroom in the middle of the starry night and then slept hard for another couple of hours. In the morning I drove on into El Paso, had a taco for breakfast and kept on going.

Across the lazy river,
Across the Rio Grande-O

4-5 days ago I wrecked my bike and sustained some fairly deep road rash. So my drill is after breakfast and dinner I go to the restroom and peel off the serosanguinously-soaked 4x4s, wash the scrapes ouch ouch ouch and then to the car trunk to apply new dressings. A couple of times already people have walked into the restroom while I’m cleaning the scrapes and they always do a double take and I can’t say that I blame them. Photo: Starting down the South Kaibab Trail

Into New Mexico – always a wonderful feeling, with changes in topography and vibe. Stayed on I10 through Las Cruces and on to Deming, then cut off on 180 toward Silver City. My original plan was to stop for the night at City of Rocks State Park, but with the early start from Dallas and stopping in Van Horn vs. Pecos I was making good time, so kept on going, figuring I’d find a good place to camp in the Gila Wilderness or Apache National Forest.

Left 180 on State Highway 78 west (trailers not recommended) and followed the narrow winding up and down road with very few other vehicles into Arizona and the Apache National Forest. I found a good campsite and set up the tent for a nap in the forest with the wind and birds and pine forest smells. But it was early and the direction is forward, so when I awoke, struck camp and headed west on 191 toward Safford. Photo: S. Kaibab trailhead

This is odd – there is a 20-30 mile stretch of 191 where the side of the road is almost carpeted in broken glass. It’s as if generations of louts have made a point of coming to this road to throw their empty beer wine liquor bottles into the sand and underbrush. I’ve never seen anything like it. Down the road a piece I spotted the first roadrunner I’ve seen in many a year – run you little roadrunner – run your little roadrunner heart out!

On the outskirts of Safford I caught phone service and talked with Leslie, who told me that a little while ago she was on Paulus, a few blocks from our house and saw what looked like a hawk on the ground. She stopped to see if what she was seeing was what she was seeing and and the hawk turned its head and looked at her. It stared for a moment and then took flight, with a squirrel in its talons. A good many people would say this was a sign – I’d think so, too. Photo: David & me on S. Kaibab Trail

I followed Highway 70 NW through Safford, a seemingly prosperous town, on into a huge (and down) Apache reservation – lots of trailers, TV antennas, dishes, pick-ups, junk laying around in the dust. After the reservation was Globe in the Pinal Mountains. I stopped at a gas station/fast food place to do the dressing change and when I was standing by the trunk putting the new 4x4s on a youndg woman walked over and asked, “Are you okay?” I said, “Yes, fine.” And she said, “I saw the medical stuff and wondered if you needed help.” We talked for a moment and I thanked her and she walked back to her pick-up. I was left wondering, when I help or offer to help, how many of those people feel as good as I felt with the woman’s offer. Photo: Grand Canyon from S. Kaibab Trail

I stopped a few miles past Globe in a rest area in a town named Miami. There was a continuously yapping dog there, so I gave it up and moved to a parking lot across the highway. Sound asleep in the night I heard wheels on gravel, a dispatcher’s voice and then tap tap on the window. The police officer checked me out and told me I had to move on. Easy enough. I drove back across the highway and with the dog long gone, slept until the maintenance person awakened me banging stuff around. Perfect.

I was on the road out of the mountains and into the desert with cactus and scrub and sunrise. I pulled off down a side road to watch the sun come up and then big highway into Phoenix. Photo: Tonto Platform

Huge breakfast, lingering, writing and then to a mall to hang out at a B&N until time for David’s flight in. I waited at the cell phone lot and when he called me I applauded, pulled around and away we went to Flagstaff with me remembering when Leslie and I drove past there on our way to Nevada and how pretty it looked then and still does, among the pines and foothills. We caught some sleet along the way and got into Flagstaff around 8pm. Got a room at the EconoLodge which was okay at first, but there was no hot water in the morning. Dinner at Chili’s and then the final organizing and packing.

Up at 4:45 and had breakfast burritos in the car driving along 180, which was a beautiful drive, forested with snow on the side of the road and then the road snowy and then icy and the forest mixed aspen and pine and then breaking out onto the main highway with RV parks, fake teepees, souvenir shops, motels and then into Grand Canyon National Park. Photo: Tonto Platform, storm coming

We parked in the backcountry lot and went in to the office and weighed our packs: 39# each, with full load of water (4 liters each). We caught the shuttle bus to the South Kaibab TH. On the bus a girl around 10 or 11 sat next to me, kind of bent over in the way people who are blind do – which she was. The bus took us right to the TH and over a little rise & there is the canyon in all its deep, deep glory & we were walking down, down, down into the canyons. The trail was very steep and scenic, taking us along ridgelines and switchbacks deeper and deeper into the mystic. There were many people on the trail, but the deeper we went the fewer of them there were. Can anyone tell me why people feel free to shout at one another as they venture along a trail. Anyway, thank goodness they fell away as we descended. Photo: sunset from Tonto Platform (storm over)

About three miles into it my right knee began hurting a little. David suggested I step down on my left foot, which helped some, but the pain continued to increase, except for the rare stretches of level trail. Finally, at the Tipoff, about 6 miles down and with the river in sight I couldn’t go any farther – which is when I discovered that going uphill was as painful as going down. Uh-oh. I dropped my pack and crept upward to a level area whil David carried his pack to there and went back for mine. We talked about what to do, but there weren’t many options. David found a good place to pitch the tent and we set up camp in a very strong wind, with me mostly just clinging to the tent with visions of it sailing up and over the precipice.

We saw the girl from the bus, coming down the trail with her parents, so that was a real up for us. Championship parents and daughter. Photo: campsite visitor

A young man (a guide) came over to the tent to find out why we were camping in a no camping area. He suggested we use the emergency phone down the trail a ways to arrange to catch a mule train out. David went to the phone and came back with “good news and bad news.” The bad news was that we would not be able to catch a mule train out and the good news was that my problem is called “canyon knee” and I needed to wrap it, rest it, elevate it and take some take ibuprofen (I already had taken 200mg Celebrex) and then we could take the relatively level Tonto Trail West to Indian Gardens and from there, hike out on the Bright Angel Trail. I was having intrusive thoughts of orthopedists, exercises, maybe surgery, rehab and so on, so this sounded pretty good to me. Photo: campsite Tonto Platform

David asked, “Is rain hitting the tent?” I said, “No” and he said, “I think so” and yes it was. So we hung out in the tent – nice and warm – and after about 45 minutes the rain and sleet stopped. I fixed chili with noodles (both home cooked and dehydrated) with Fritos and cheese for dinner. I took the ace bandage off my arm & elbow where it had been holding the 4x4s on the road rash and tight-wrapped my knee. Asleep by 8:30 or 9:00. The wind died completely in the night and when I got up, it was completely quiet with a billion stars sparkling in the dark vault.

The next morning I was amazed to feel a lot better. We had breakfast and took off along Tonto West, contouring around the cliffs and mesas above the deepest canyon and though a twisty, looping trail, it was relatively flat and I made good time. What a relief! I had been mortified that my infirmity was aborting the trip and to be able to have a Grand Canyon experience (if not the GC experience) was a huge relief and pretty grand. David had taken good care of me throughout and was a golden sport throughout. Photo: hiking out on Tonto Trail

We were low on water and filled up at Pipe Creek about half way to Indian Garden. The water was excellent for a desert and we drank our fill. The hike was easy and beautiful, with sandstone cliffs towering over us and sometimes walking at the edge of steep canyons. We encountered one other person the whole way – a very nice change from the crowded South Kaibab Trail. Photo: along the Tonto Trail

We stopped right before Indian Garden and had lunch under cottonwoods on soft green grass by a rushing stream.

Then it was a quarter mile to IG. We found a campsite, hung out talking and then pitched our tent. Dinner was mashed potatoes, bacon, flatbread, cheese – tasty! IG is the most developed campground I’ve stayed in – people close enough together that you can hear them talking. On the other hand there was a (clean) water hydrant less than 100 feet from our tent. Farther away, fortunately, was a latrine with an ammonia smell so strong it (as one camper said) makes your eyes water. All the waste is composted and I guess that particular latrine was earlier in the process. Photo: along Tonto Trail

Up around 6am. Leisurely breakfast of dehydrated eggs & bacon & hot chocolate for David and granola bar and coffee with a lot of hot chocolate added for me. And then up that dusty trail again. I think it’s about 6 miles from IG to the rim – all uphill, but not too steep. We leap-frogged several times with a couple we talked with at IG for a moment – on the trail, stopping, talking for longer (David talking longer than I because, of course, he had time while waiting for me) – a family practice resident and his public health partner – nice.

The farther we went up the trail, the more people there were (day-hiking) and the less informed some were about common courtesy, like yielding to the person coming uphill, not yelling, not purposely kicking up dust (I’m not kidding). One guy kept yelling up to someone ahead of him, “Mercedes! Hey Mercedes! Slow down!” Sheesh. On the other hand one young couple I’d seen several times saw me plodding uphill and the woman said, “You again – you just keep on going.” And her friend said, “Awesome.” That buoyed me for about 5 steps and trudge, trudge, trudge. Photo: where we had lunch near Indian Garden

The trail became actually crowded close to the top and then I was out at one of the viewing areas in throngs of peeps. Weird. I couldn’t find David, so caught a shuttle to the backcountry lot expecting to find him there because he had the car keys, but he wasn’t, so I sat on a bench to doze for awhile, but here came another bus and this had DK on it.

Grand Canyon was over. My thighs and calves were sore, but my knee was fine. Even Dave’s were sore. I had planned beyond my ability. Would I have made it with a 2 hour rest part way down or going down the less steep Bright Angel Trail. Maybe find out next spring. Here are some of the things I learned (again) – do I have to learn everything 3-4-5 times? Photo: hiking out on Bright Angel Trail

• My son really is a golden sport. He hikes much faster than I, but waits with aplomb. Still, I question inflicting the disparity in strength and stamina on him. Bottom line – a great backpacking buddy.
• I’m a slow hiker – my natural bent is to stop and enjoy the scenery and that + my puff-puff-puff sketchy musculoskeletal & cardiovascular strength means 5-7 miles with a full backpack is a good day’s hike for me and I just have to plan that way.
• I like alpine environments (above timberline) more than sub-alpine or desert. But what am I to do in late fall and early spring? So desert it is.
• I have freezer-bag cooking down. Good to bring some little Snickers along as well.

We drove to Phoenix. Got a decent hotel and traditional post-hike meal (cheeseburger). The next day hung out in Starbucks for a few hours, then to airport where we talked for awhile and then DK to plane and I was on the road again, headed east (bad thing) and home (very good thing). I slept at a rest stop somewhere in New Mexico and again in Texas. Driving into the west Texas sunrise with clouds scattered across the lightening sky. Driving down the old hippie highway with Dylan like an Old Testament prophet: I saw gunshot swords in the hands of young children

I slept again outside Fort Stockton and when I started up again it was cold and windy and grey and I was down. Onward. 60 miles past Fort Stockton the sun was coming out and I noticed in the rear view mirror that the little door over the gas cap was open. I stopped and found the gas cap wedged into the opening – a sign! Yucca blooming, sun coming out and then Hello! Beep beep! Another roadrunner. Alright. Photo above: enchanted forest in Big Bend

Finally in to Big Bend around noon. While I waited for the backcountry permit office to open, I got my pack and gear in order.

I had a permit for Boulder Meadow by 1:30 and took off up the trail. I found an excellent campsite and was set up by 4. Unfortunately there were a good many large black flies buzzing around, so I ended up in my tent earlier than I’d planned. I walked around in the enchanted forest several times, but the tent was the main place. Photo: highway out of Big Bend

The next day I fired down the trail and up the highway to Dallas. Home around 8pm, tired and feeling good and very glad to be home. When I walked up to the front porch, the fragrance from the roses ...