Six years ago today

Six years ago tonight, I was lying in a hospital bed, oblivious to the world around me. I'd just had a three-level fusion in my lower back, and I was in more pain than I'd thought imaginable. My brother visited me that night, and I have no recollection of it. I was so pumped full of pain medication that I might as well have been knocked out.

I knew that the NCAA basketball tournament would start the day after my surgery, and I thought that I'd watch every game from my hospital bed. Ha! I didn't see a single one. I slept continuously, and, for the brief moments that I was awake, I couldn't keep track of which team was wearing which color.

As the years have gone by, I've realized that the surgery was the best choice that I could've possibly made. It stabilized my spine sufficiently for me to be able to manage the remaining pain if I carefully plan my activities.

With the memory of what happened six years ago, K and I hurried up high to see the sunrise this morning. If I'm capable of using my legs and K is still energetic, we're going to take full advantage of it! The photos above were from before sunrise, and the one below was just as the sun crested the eastern hills.

Due to the clouds, the sunrise was gorgeous orange and purple.

But, due to that cloud cover, we had only a few minutes of the amazing sunrise light before the sun was blocked by the clouds. K glowed during those few quiet minutes.

K was by my side for the whole seemingly endless recovery from the surgery back in 2006. At first, I couldn't limp further than a hundred yards without bursting into tears from the pain. And, after the Runner had no choice but to go back to work, K refused to leave my side for anything. She was an amazing friend during that phase.

It was 3 months before I was allowed to ride in a car and even longer before I was allowed to drive the car. At the 6 month mark, I was finally allowed to try riding a bike... Everyone who knew me laughed at the thought that the doctor had no idea what a force he'd unleashed when he said that I could "try riding a bike". I think that I rode a bit more than he had in mind! But, it's been the best spine therapy imaginable...

So, today, I remember how the Runner, our yellow lab S, and my chocolate K all rallied to get me through that very tough time (R wasn't born yet). I'm a very lucky person.

I must end by apologizing for not visiting many blogs. I've had an eye infection for more than a week, and now I'm awaiting the results of the culture that they did to find the right antibiotic for it (the "standard" antibiotic didn't work). Until I can start new antibiotics targeted for my infection, I'm just going to have to suffer with it. It definitely limits how long I can use my computer.

A surgery anniversary

Today was an anniversary. I had my neck fusion surgery one year ago, and K got out of the hospital after intestinal blockage surgery on that same day. I must say that today was much more fun than our day one year ago. It seemed to me like an occasion for celebration.

K and I took an extra long hike this morning, and she was giddy with puppy-like energy. She rolled in the snow with abandon.

And then she shook off the snow clinging to her fur.

During our hike, we found the tracks of a mother mountain lion and her large kitten. Sometimes, their tracks showed that they moved side-by-side, and the kitten often loped while mom walked. In the photo below, the kitten's tracks are on the left and the mother's tracks are on the right.

The mother's tracks were smaller than the lion tracks that I've been seeing frequently in our forest. The hand warmer is 3.5" long and the track is smaller.

The pair appeared to be in stealthful hunting mode for much of their walk. They'd walk from tree to tree along their path, and a bunch of tracks would be clustered together at the base of each tree. I suspect that they were standing behind each tree to scan for prey.

At one point, they both sat down, leaving distinctive marks in the snow. In the photo below, the sitting mark is at the bottom of the photo. The lion's butt left a completely melted spot. Then, the lion walked away, upward in the photo.

The kitten still played with the abandon of a young one. I saw many places where mom walked steadily forward but the kitten leaped onto boulders and fallen trees. In the photo below, for no particular reason, the kitten walked a downed tree like a balance beam.

Near the end of our tracking, a bobcat's tracks met the mountain lion's tracks. The bobcat had walked carefully placing each paw into one of the packed down mountain lion tracks. The bobcat's legs are so much shorter than a mountain lion's legs that he could only maintain the long reaching strides of a lion for a few steps. Then, he'd give up on putting his paws directly in the lion's tracks... leaving a few of his own tracks, before starting the whole process again. Now, that's an audacious bobcat!

While we investigated the lion tracks, K was leashed. She was a happy dog when we left those tracks behind and she could run again! She kicked up her heels sending snow crystals flying into the air.

After our hike, I headed out on the snowbike, making new tracks on a favorite winter route.

I saw all sorts of wildlife. A splinter group of elk hung out in a meadow near my house. These cow elk watched me closely!

A couple of young bull elk mingled in the group, sporting spike antlers.

While I was riding, this group walked very close to my house leaving a trail of churned up snow. Their tracks showed that they came close to the front door. The dogs must have gone bananas!

Deeper in the woods, I spotted a young mule deer buck who thought that he was invisible in the pine trees.

I rode hard, enjoying the warm sun and the fact that I wasn't lying in a hospital bed like last year. Thanks to the surgery, my neck is much more stable and I ride my bike more confidently. I felt happy today.

In our clearing, I saw one last beautiful being, a White Breasted Nuthatch perched in a pine tree, chirping insistently.

A good day - especially when compared to one year ago.

Long and winding road

Our whole pack went for a sunset hike last night, enjoying gazing at the mountains and feeling the tranquility of the forest.
This morning, I thought hard about my lingering blues and concluded the main culprit was a ratcheting up in my spine pain. Then, I had a PT appointment today, and my conclusion was bolstered by her observation of lots of inflammation around the titanium plates and rods in my lower back, placed there about 6 years ago. That's a new one for me. My fingers are crossed that it calms down all by itself and doesn't become another reason for a surgeon to work on my lower back.

This morning, K and I headed out for an easy bike ride. I had to cinch down her muzzle because she was pushing it aside with her paw to sample the local mushrooms. Now that's a resourceful dog. Shortly after I tightened it, I saw this.
Yep, she was trying her old trick of pressing her muzzle into the ground to get tasty tidbits stuck to it. I'm sure that she was disappointed to find a pine cone stuck there rather than a mushroom or scat!

K's spirits seemed much better today. I even caught her hurdling a branch!
Full of optimism, K stood tall atop a stump.
And then donned her muzzle for some more riding on the long and winding road of life.
Later in the day, I checked a wildlife camera set in a secluded forest opening.
And, I found a series of photos like this one. Extra points for anyone who can guess what animal it is! I'll tell you tomorrow.
These wildlife cameras keep me amused regardless of everything else in my life!

My closest bear encounter and courage refound

During yesterday's tumultuous train of thunderstorms, the Duo and I finally found a window to head out for a hike. My yen for wandering hit hard, and we ended up exploring a section of the forest that's new to me. A huge ravine cuts off the most obvious route to access this remote section of forest but the Duo and I found a heavily worn animal trail that crosses the ravine up high where it isn't so extreme.

It was obvious that we'd entered a zone where people rarely set foot and the animals roam without worries. Both dogs alerted numerous times telling me that an animal was nearby or its scent was strong. When we explore animal havens, I leash both dogs so their "alerts" consist of very excited body language.
We were heading for a spot that looks ideal, on a topo map, for bear dens. As I visualized the topo map in my head to guide our route, I almost tripped over a geological marker that a worker had installed years ago while surveying the land on foot. His/her data was probably used to help make the map that I was visualizing. So no one else knows where to look for a bear den, I deleted the location information from the photo but it was there.
Unfortunately, when we hit the cusp of the rocky spine that I wanted to explore, the thunder started booming and the rain started splattering so we turned back. The sky over the Continental Divide looked threatening, to say the least.
One gift of my neck fusion surgery in January was that I learned how much I love exploring the wilderness on foot like the Duo and I did yesterday evening. It's amazing how being forced to change my routine, even by something as onerous as surgery, almost always means that I discover new things that I love to do.

This morning, K and I headed out for a romp, with me on my mountain bike and K on her paws. We headed for our "berry cam" and a "fresh-out-of-the-oven" bear scat lay directly in our path. It consisted entirely of Buffalo Berry seeds - and NO human or bird food. I think that the bear had been present just moments before and either climbed a tree or fled as we approached.
Based on that near encounter, I decided that we've entered the full-blown bear berry season, and K and I will stay off that slope for the next month or so. My main reason is that I don't want to deter the bears from eating the abundant berry crop by leaving our scent all over the slope. I am honestly not afraid of seeing a Black Bear because they've behaved so timidly almost every time I've encountered them. When I see one in the forest, it almost always disappears at a full gallop in the blink of an eye.

Several of you have asked what I think about the tragic bear attack in Montana and whether it affects my feelings about wandering in bear territory. First, I should point out that the bears in my forest are Black Bears, which are presumably less prone to aggression than Grizzly Bears. My reaction to the news reports is that, just like some humans are literally insane, I think that a few animals in each species can behave insanely. However, the few crazy ones don't mean that all humans are dangerous or that all bears are itching for a fight. If the news reported every single time a person encountered a bear who ran away, there would be no time for any other type of news story in the summertime. There are probably at least a hundred of these benign encounters in North America on a typical summer day.

I've encountered bears many times when hiking or biking in the forest near my house. I follow a few basic rules like (1) stop in my tracks and don't approach, (2) act confident and predictably, (3) observe the animal closely and change my tactics if the usual ones aren't having the usual effects. I also carry a large can of pepper spray designed for defense against Grizzly Bears just in case something really weird happens with a bear or mountain lion. But, in every case except one, the bear fled as soon as he/she saw me. In that one case, a mother bear waited for her yearling to get a 1 minute head start before she fled.

My closest bear encounter happened in my yard around 7 or 8 years ago - it didn't fit the usual rules because the bear approached me rather than me surprising a bear on a trail. I was sitting in the yard having breakfast with my dog, Acadia, lying in the grass next to me. Acadia's recent spinal surgery meant that she couldn't walk on her own. As I read the newspaper, Acadia emitted a low rumbling growl. I snapped down the paper and looked straight into the face of a smallish black bear sow who stood stationary 15 yards away. I was scared... especially because Acadia couldn't walk. So, I arose from my chair slowly while maintaining eye contact with the bear and talking in a calming voice. I helped Acadia to her feet using her harness and dragged her inside the front door while keeping my eyes on the sow's eyes. I don't know what led me to feel that eye contact was very important that day - but it felt right.

With Acadia safe, I peered out the door, and the sow still stood like a statue in the same place with my half-eaten breakfast in front of her. For some reason, it felt very important to me that the sow NOT get rewarded with my breakfast so I slowly but confidently walked out the door again. In retrospect, I can't fathom why I didn't try to scare the sow away from inside the house. As I moved toward my breakfast, I kept eye contact with the bear while talking to her, probably saying inane things, picked up my breakfast, and again retreated into the house.

Again, I peered out the door, and the sow still stood rooted in place. So, I emerged once more to scare her away. But, for some reason, I paused and looked at her first (with one hand on the door knob of the slightly open front door) while she examined me. We both seemed equally curious about each other - and she hadn't made a single aggressive move or sound. Then, I said, not loudly and not angrily, but with authority, "It's time for you to leave". Believe it or not, she spun and loped out of our clearing. By the end of the encounter, I felt that I'd had a special, rather than scary, experience.

I'm not sure that I'd repeat my actions of that day now that I know more about bears. I'd probably take the safer strategy of getting Acadia into the house and then scaring the bear from indoors. However, the story demonstrates that not all bears are itching for a fight or an attack. In fact, I haven't yet met a bear who preferred aggression over flight. However, I know that those individuals exist so I'm more cautious now than I was then.

Since finding the den with a sow and two yearling cubs, I've often wondered if the sow was the same one who I met in my yard that day. Now, that would be serendipity.

After finding bear scat this morning, K and I had a carefree romp in the forest. K zipped around like a puppy.
We hugged on Hug Hill after she trotted up from its far side.
As I rode, I discovered that a modicum of courage that had mysteriously disappeared during my surgery had miraculously returned. There are a couple of very tough spots for a mountain bike on our trails. In past years, I've always negotiated them without dismounting. This year, I've been timid, hopping off the bike to climb over them on foot. Without even thinking today, I pedaled over each of them, easily surmounting what had become Mt. Everest-like barriers in my head. I think that I'm finally as strong as I was before surgery. Woo hoo!And, just so we don't get too serious about life or courage, we have our resident imp, R, to keep us laughing... He won another round.

Peaceful oasis but rough trails

The morning after the big storm, we headed out to explore the Sargents Mesa area. On that day, I followed the trail south. It looked stupendous on a topo map because it hugged the Continental Divide for miles.

Alas, although we had fun, it wasn't as glorious as expected. The Colorado Trail follows ATV routes in that section, and the big powerful engines of those machines churn the trails into endless stretches of loose large rocks. Most of it was passable on a mountain bike but not fun for someone who has two long sections of her spine fused. In my optimistic moments, I convinced myself that the trail was "just about to improve, right around the next curve". I wasn't correct in my predictions... Moreover, the trail was mostly in a towering forest so I didn't have the expansive views that I expected. I didn't take any photos but I found this one on the web (here). Do you see what I mean about the rocks?
I decided to cut the ride a bit short, just going as far as a lake so that K and I could play fetch in the water. It was a beautiful high mountain lake, and both my furry friend and I had a blast playing in it. I threw sticks, and K took leaps into the water that might win a long jump contest.
She'd bring the stick back, drop it, and we'd repeat with gusto!
Just as I thought to myself that the high mountain lake made up for the pain of the spine-rattling trail, the patch of blue sky over the lake turned gray.
Then, a rumble of thunder rolled from the mountaintops. Within a minute, the sky was hurling hail onto us. The high mountains usually have a weather pattern that you can set your watch by. Sun in the morning, clouds by mid-day, and storm in the afternoon. It was hailing at 10 AM (not part of the pattern), and we were a couple of hours of hard riding from camp!

In the hail, my first problem was finding my bike. I'd dropped it when we arrived at the lake to go play with K. In the storm's clouds, I couldn't immediately pick it out from the forest - I kept visualizing trudging all the way back to camp and having to explain that I'd lost my bike! I left K in a sit stay while I frantically searched and finally found it.
I was honestly a little scared. The temperature had plummeted when the storm hit, and I was already getting cold. I donned all my new and wonderful Golite rain gear and hammered at the fastest safe pace over the now slippery and loose rocks on the trail. I took no breaks, trying to stay warm by working hard. K seemed oblivious to the rain or thunder - I wish that I had been in her state of mind instead of mine! She seemed to try to calm me with probing looks into my eyes.
Fortunately, the storm lasted less than an hour. By the time that we rolled into the meadow where we were camped, the sun shined warmly on my shoulders and K's chocolate fur.
The mountains peeked through the still-looming storm clouds behind K.
And, K and I had our photo taken as we arrived back at camp. I love getting photos, even slightly blurred ones, of the two of us having mountain biking adventures together!
It turned out that the respite from the storms was brief. We spent much of the afternoon and evening holed up, staying out of the rain and lightning. Our final vacation dinner was a Mexican feast comprised of many courses. Perfect for a stormy day in camp!

When the rain finally stopped, the sun had already set.
We went for a short walk in 'our' meadow, empty despite it being a holiday weekend, and investigated a memorial that we'd stumbled on the night before. We'd been shocked to find it in the midst of a lonesome and wild meadow.
It seemed to be a memorial associated with Vietnam but many of the inscriptions were in languages that we couldn't understand.
We couldn't figure out the theme but the many live bullets left by visitors left me wondering what it was all about. You can see the bullets on the top ledge between the granite blocks.
I haven't found any information on the web so I'm still mystified. If anyone knows about this memorial, I'd love to hear about it.

In the end, I concluded that Sargents Mesa is a gorgeous place to camp but the trails aren't great for mountain biking or hiking. That's probably why no one who we asked had ever visited this spot. We didn't regret our visit - we loved the peacefulness and complete solitude that we found in this lush meadow on top of the world.
On our last morning, I had a beautiful point-to-point ride to meet the pack at another trailhead to start our drive home. I found some smooth and fast trail and enjoyed every inch of it!
Oh how I love our mountains!

Invictus

On the night before we were supposed to start our journey to the higher mountains, I was despondent. My lower back pain was agonizing, and I thought that surgery lurked around the next corner. After all, two different doctors had recommended that I have another section of my lumbar spine fused ASAP after my neck fusion surgery a few months ago. I decided to try to stave off that surgery and enjoy the summer. So, on that night before our planned trip, I thought that my decision was being made for me.

That night, we watched an inspiring movie, Invictus, about Nelson Mandela. In the movie, Mandela recites the poem "Invictus" to help himself through his seemingly never-ending imprisonment. "Invictus" is Latin and means "unconquered".

Invictus. William Ernest Henley.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

At first, I focused on the second to last line "I am the master of my fate". I thought that it was delusional. After all, Mandela had lost 27 years of his life due to the tyranny of imprisonment. And, although my case is far less tragic, I've come to believe that I have little control over my spine degeneration and its effects on my future. On that night, I felt like a ship lost at sea, completely out of control of my future. My attitude definitely was not summed up by the phrase "the master of my fate".

But then, I thought about the last line: "I am the captain of my soul.". That provided me with a toehold to keep moving. For Mandela, it meant that his tragic loss of so many years didn't sour his soul. In fact, he even forgave those who imprisoned him. For me, I interpreted it as I CAN control how I react to bad events and how they impact my spirit. More concretely, I do control how I respond to back pain.

On that thought, I decided that we should take our trip. We'd modify it a bit to give me recovery time reclining in a La Fuma chair. However, I knew that simply being in the high mountains would make my spirit soar. So, we headed out with the agreement that we'd go to one locale and stay there until I started feeling better. Thank goodness - I did recover and my pain returned to its familiar level over our first four days high in the Rocky Mountains. I think that surgery can wait a bit longer.

I'll be back to thicker air soon with stories and photos from our trip up in the thin air.