You can do it, put your glutes into it

After a much-needed break from life (OK, maybe it extended a little longer than necessary), we finally got back out on trails this last weekend. We've done Mary's Peak before (read about one of our last adventures up Mary's Peak here), but this time, we did it in the snow. And to hike up a snow-hill, one needs snowshoes. Lee's family's cabin is out in the middle of nowhere in back-ass-woods Ukiah, Ore., so we often have to snowshoe several miles from the road into where his cabin sits, so fortunately, we have a little experience in the nature, as well as the equipment. This was Kaity's first time snowshoeing, and my first time snowshoeing in a challenging setting -- that being a big-ass hill. I realize Mary's Peak is actually a mountain, but it's only about 4,000 feet high, and with the blanket of snow, it really was more akin to one huge hill, with no leveling off and no clear-cut trail. 

As with most trips we take, this one didn't go nearly as planned. I figure the first time we have a completely smooth trip will be the day that this adventure-having will no longer be fun anyway, so bring on the madness (for now). We did leave pretty close to the time we had planned, but needed to stop by the outdoor store to grab some snow poles. Still not sure what I think about those little things. I've never used them before this trip, and while they do assist in trekking up the hill, they also require using your upper body a lot more, contributing to a lot more of that feeling like, "Holy shit. This was a bad idea."

Kaity looking like a Chapstick ad!

The original plan was that we'd drive up to the summit and play around in the snow up at the top in our snowshoes, just walking about wherever we wanted to explore. Instead, as we drove up, a sheer sense of panic overcame us as we spent a good half hour driving through bare roads... as in, absolutely no snow. Right about the time where we thought maybe we should just turn around and go on a drunk run instead (I'm sure we'll blog about this at another time), we finally came across a scuffling of snow, until one turn around the corner, and all of a sudden, there it was. A little patchy, but enough to give us hope that there was more calling our names at the top. So, instead of driving the rest of the way, we parked the truck, geared up, and set out to hike up to the top. What is it with us and always bailing on an original plan midway and just improvising the rest? Either way, after making plenty of judgments of the other cars trying to make it up the soft-packed snow, we started on our way. Lee was in skis (he has a pair of AT skis with skins on the bottoms where he can clip out and walk in them similar to snowshoes), and Kaity, our friend Mike, and I were all in snowshoes.

The roads were still patchy for a good mile or so, where there wasn't always a great blanket of snow; it was rutted from tires and semi-frozen, but we managed to make good time and only break to remove layers of clothing or re-adjust gear. That part was easier than cake and Kaity and I worried that we weren't getting in a good enough workout. That's when God, in all His infinite humor, decided to lead us to a clearing that led to a big hill with smooth snow the entire way around it. Only a few sets of ski prints could be seen off this portion of the climb. Surprisingly, we managed to take that sucker with grace, barely pausing at only two spots before making it to the top and finding a big open flat space. We took a break here while the boys explored to figure out what our next move would be. Problem was, we knew there was more mountain to climb, and we weren't anywhere near it. This was also the time where I realized my stupid snowshoes were on the wrong feet the entire hike thus far. What?! Seriously, could I be more childlike? About the time I got my hot mess of a self figured out, Mike had scoped out where we could come down a steep embankment and would lead us to remain parallel with the road leading up to the top. Here's the thing: I HATE going downhill. Especially in loose snow that wants nothing more than me to fall on my ass... a lot. Reluctantly, Kaity and I followed the tracks of Mike's snowshoes and slowly made our way down the hill, trying to resist our snowshoes from becoming skis, though that's exactly what they had the inclination to do: take us down the hill all wobbly-wiggly style, as every joint in our legs went in various directions.

We managed to make it down with no falling and no injuries. We finally came to a stream with what looked like a snow/ice bridge that crossed the stream but was broken right in the middle. Lee, in his infinite wisdom, used his skis to bridge the gap between the two edges and walked right across. Molly, our big dog was able to jump over fine as well. But then there's Louie... my 14-pound Mini Schnauzer.. and when I say "mini," I mean, he was the runt of his already "miniature" breed. There was no way he was jumping over that, so we knew the most viable option was to puppy-pitch him. I already have a term for it because... well, this is a past time of Lee's and mine. It usually takes place in the winter, and also usually has a big pile of fluffy snow at the end of his rainbow, but you know, you have to get resourceful in the woods. As I was winding up to lightly toss him over, Kaity and Mike alerted me to change my pitching position because they wanted to get a picture of the action. So I moved him to the front of me and assumed the position into a squat. I should now preface with the fact that my workouts lately have included squat thrusting medicine balls up over my head, so this position was all too familiar to my muscle memory. All of a sudden, I toss my dog and realize I used the same gusto I would with the medicine ball. My hands turned out as to gracefully release a ball, and at this point I realize my dog is doing a full gainer in the air across a stream. In the photo, you can see he's completely upside down with his ass facing the camera. Who knew he was quite the little acrobat, because the damn thing smoothly completed his full flip and landed on all fours safely on the other side of the stream. Success! And now PETA, I'm sure, is going to take back all the free mailing labels and calendars they've sent me over the years for being a horrible pet owner.

 

Once we all made it across the stream, we found our end game: the climb to the top. Nothing but uphill blanketed snow. Oh by the way, hardest hike we've ever done thus far, and ironically on the easiest "mountain" we will climb through this entire process. The same mountain we descended and ascended (total of just under 8 miles) just two months ago in barely over two hours (on a sprained ankle nonetheless), was now taking us two hours just to accomplish the 2.7 miles from where we started to the top. Kaity and I kept focus on the promise of booze and burgers after the hike once we made it to the top (or I guess, made it back down to the bottom would be more accurate). At some points, where we really wanted to call it a day, we'd set out to make ourselves go about 30 steps, then take a small break, and just knock out that elephant one piece at a time. A big problem was that we started this beast a tad bit too overzealous and were trucking it up the hill way too fast. After all, we are very fast hikers, but we didn't take into consideration the difference in this type of hike from our past ones and compared to our regular workouts in general. The largest problem was really the fact that we (again) didn't fuel properly, and found ourselves blacking out as we kept making progress up the hill. It'd start out as just a blurry sensation, then before we knew it, everything was going dark and we'd have to pause to crouch really low. We took a sit-down break to munch on fruit leathers and replenish a tiny amount of glucose, but let me tell you, a 45-calorie fruit leather doesn't do much at this point. As we sat, we made the mental note that we need to start eating -- a ton -- before these types of hikes; more than what we currently think of as a "ton," since apparently my two bowls of fibrous cereal in the morning seemed like a ton at the time, but later felt like nothing but bird food. We also thanked baby Jesus that our hike this summer would not be covered in snow and require snowshoes. (Though it would be much longer, and much steeper - yes, we're aware of this. Thanks for your thoughts though.) Who knew snowshoes can seriously make the difference in what muscles you all of a sudden feel in your body that you've never noticed before. 

The good news is, we got in a great, strenuous hike that we finished and still, even though we felt like we were dragging ass, we actually finished from bottom up, back to the bottom, in great time. We found our second wind and hauled ass back down the mountain back to the truck. Lee had already skied down from the top to get the truck all warmed up and started driving up the hill toward us. We came down so quickly though that he barely made any headway at all. Kaity and I piled into the back of the truck and we inhaled a turkey sandwich she had in her bag. Then as we went to pull out, we realized we were heavily stuck in the snow. It took six men (I guess I should say two men, two frat boys who weren't very strong, and two foreigners who were wearing skinny jeans and Vans), chains, and shovels to get us out of the mess. We finally made it down the mountain to the main road, and made our way to the Woodsman Restaurant in Philomath, Ore. In case you were wondering, the Woodsman is a restaurant filled with antlers and outdoorsy kind of decor and they serve...you guess it: Thai food. Who am I to complain? At that point, I'm pretty sure I would have eaten a rotten water buffalo (another resourceful trait that will come in handy when we're stuck out in the middle of nowhere). 

After a not-so-good cocktail and an undercooked hamburger, we finally made it home. It was a great way to train for our hike as it mentally and physically pushed us outside our comfort zone for the first time since we've began this whole thing. With hope, we'll be able to make it to more mountains as the holidays have come to a halt, and the weather starts clearing up. We'll still encounter snow on most of the mountains we'll see between now and Mt. Whitney in August, but now we know we can do it in snowshoes.. even if it takes us 30 steps at a time to finish it.

View from the top

Stuck. And the dogs just chilling.

Looking down the hill on us taking our sit-down break.

Slowly losing layers as we make it up

Fixing my snowshoes once I realized they were on the wrong feet.

Preparing for the puppy pitch.

Husband at the top

Holiday Hiatus and Single Life

The problem with the holidays (besides Christmas music -- ugh, so glad that's over with) is that it's the perfect time of the year to just... do nothing. Mix in the fact that my husband was out of town for the entire month of December, and the gym where I work at slowed down to a screeching halt, and you've got the perfect cocktail for letting all motivation just pass you by, without so much as a flicker in your very brown eyes. 

Basically, for the four weeks I was on my own, I was a bachelor. I didn't use my stove once; in fact, I didn't use any dishes other than a bowl and spoon. The dishwasher held clean dishes in it from before I dropped my husband off at the airport, and they remained there until a week after he returned home. I didn't eat dinner til 11 o'clock at night, and dinner was really more or less a midnight snack. My routine would generally consist of getting home from work late, watching multiple reruns of Workaholics, showering, and then realizing it had been 10 hours since my last meal. So, I would take that one bowl, wash it out, fill it with cereal, grab my spoon, pop up onto the top of the kitchen counter, cross my legs Indian-style, and dig in. Let me tell you, there's no greater freedom than knowing there's no one around to judge you in the moment of being a 26-year-old, well-educated female, sitting with her feet on the counter-top, eating a bowl of Apple Jacks.

When I wasn't indulging in children's cereal, I was meeting friends out for dinner, drinks, and movies. Unfortunately, none of the movies were ones that were on my IMDB top 250 list. I did see Django Unchained, which is on the newly updated IMDB top 250 list, so I still consider that to be a win.   I got my friend Carl hooked on Workaholics and we'd have marathons of watching that show, wishing our lives could be as ridiculous, and realizing in some ways, they already are.

As for hiking progress, none was made in December. Kaity and I still worked out separately in the gym, but no trails were marked by us once. We didn't let this fact get us down too much, as we realized we were kind of at a standstill due to the weather. A lot of parks and trails were closed down because of the snow, and let's face it, we welcomed the break to be a little lazy for a few weeks. Now that January has come around, we're ready to get back out there. We have already hiked Mary's Peak again in the snow... in snowshoes (blog to come), and we're planning on doing it again next weekend. I'm back to eating properly -- at a table, in a chair -- and sleeping in a bed like a normal person (I had stayed up watching TV and would fall asleep on the couch most nights of the week). Having to share everything again (bed, TV, meals, bathroom) was quite the blow, but I guess it had to end sometime. It's good to be back on a routine/schedule now, though that doesn't mean you still won't catch me on the kitchen counter just hanging out. The world is my jungle gym, what can I say?

Most hikers are wimps. And I ramble.

Her shoes don't match. I'm disappointed. 

So I'm sitting at home with my parents watching yet another OPB show, and my dad starts making fun of me for not carrying enough weight while doing practice hikes. The hikers on the show were walking along the beach carrying very large, very full backpacks with sleeping bags and mats and who knows what else strapped on. They were three hippie-esque girls with butch haircuts and in dire need of showers. Then, I heard the announcer say that they were going on a 17-mile hike. Jenna and I could do 17 miles in a day!
 Who needs all that stuff to go 17 miles?? Besides, they had a camera crew following them, which I'm sure they knew about far in advance. They could have taken showers before they set out. Or even the day before. Heck, I've gone four days without washing my hair and it still looked better than theirs. (Yes, four days, and I even went to work on the fourth day. Have no fear, I did not smell, a coworker confirmed this when I asked if it looked like I hadn't showered in four days. I think they probably still haven't realized I wasn't being sarcastic) Anyhow, back to the "hikers." Seventeen miles?? You can have someone pick you up at the end of that. And they were "hiking" on the beach. That can't be too terribly taxing. It's flat, has the highest level of oxygen enrichment anywhere (not sure of this, does Death Valley have more? Probably not, the sun would burn it up) and if you stay on the hard sand (as they were) you don't even have to fight unevenness. Why hike? Drop your bags and run. I bet you could even make it back to the car by sundown including walk breaks.

**OK, so most hikers aren't wimps. And we are slightly wimpy ourselves. But really, the OPB hikers were way overpacked. Not that Jenna and I don't overpack. We do. You should see what we carry in our purses just to make it through  one day. There are many excellent hikers in the world, we aspire to be like them. Maybe cleaner though.**  

Baby Okapi. I want one :)
 I'll bring it hiking too. 

So back to why Jenna and I aren't wimps, like most hikers. We hike fast. We hike hills. We hike after going to work at 5 a.m. to get in our 8 hours and still have time to hike. We hike in the rain. We hike on empty stomachs. Our hikes rarely go exactly as planned, but we still hike. We memorized Carl's phone number so he can rescue us if ever we end up miles away from where we want to be, yet still know where we are. We hiked up Marys Peak in snowshoes, and while wanting to die 100 meters from the top, we still made it.
Sure, there are times we don't hike — like when we're happy being fat and lazy at home eating cheerios and watching Roman Holiday — but for the most part when we hike we really mean it. We hike for training, and we train to hike. Treadmill inclines and intervals and power and strengthening are essential to building the bodies we will be needing this summer.
Enough of the bragging.

Random facts and a few giggles:

• Hairspray can be used as bug spray. 

This is why we should bring some hiking. I don't have a sneaky excuse for my mascara yet, but I'll work on it.

• In an emergency, a drawstring from a parka hood can be used to strangle a snoring tent mate.

Good thing we don't snore. 

• A lion's roar can be heard from five miles away. 

Phew, thank goodness, we'll be able to hide from a lion in plenty of time. 


Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went on a camping trip. After a good meal and a bottle of wine, they lay down for the night and went to sleep. Some hours later, Holmes awoke and nudged his faithful friend.
    "Watson, look up and tell me what you see."
    Watson replied, "I see millions and millions of stars."
    "What does that tell you?" Holmes asked.
    Watson pondered for a minute. "Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see that God is all powerful and that we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Why, what does it tell YOU?"
    Holmes was silent for a minute, then spoke. "Watson, you idiot. Some jerk has stolen our tent."

Hehe I'm a dork. 

• In emergency situations, you can survive in the wilderness by shooting small game with a slingshot made from the elastic waistband of your underwear.

I don't think this is going to work for us. A) We will hike ourselves right to safety and food. B) I always carry far too many fruit leathers to need to eat raw rabbit. C) Pretty sure my slingshot skills are not that good. Perhaps we should practice. And finally, D) My underwear is far too flimsy to be a slingshot.




Is that TMI? Oh well. Some of our hiking conversations couldn't pass for PG either.