Day 5 + 10: How's Your Leg Pit?

The moral of this posting is that it is simply too hot to think.  

I had an inkling of what I was up against when I stepped outside to do some early morning watering today and the shaded patio thermometer was hanging just shy of 85.  Ugh.

I knew again when I showered, dressed and then redressed a short time later because I was already wet (note:  at this point I seriously considered breaking out the 'Anti Monkey Butt' for a quick, drying dust).

Yet another reminder---getting my daughter out the door to school involved a 'cross-my-heart-pledge' that I would deliver popsicles during lunch recess (and I did). Two classrooms worth of very happy kids greeted me .

But the final 'sum-it-up-moment' came when I picked my son up from school and it was hanging at a comfy 103 or so.  As we walked home, he started unbuttoning his shirt frantically and then he said, "mommy, I am so hot that my leg pits are dripping wet".  Enough said!  It is just too hot to think tonight.

Day 5 + 9: Weather Blessings

As I sit here on my office chair, shifting my weight back and forth to avoid having my short-clad legs adhere to the faux leather surface as a result of the hot, sticky, cricket laden evening, I keep thinking "thank you, thank you, thank you weather person", (whomever you may be).   Had this day happened a week ago, I would have been sunk!   Simply put, "mid-nineties is not my bag baby!'.

About ten days before we left, my husband decided to brave researching the long-term forecast.  You know what I mean---that oh-so accurate 10-day out craps shoot that you can Google as you are packing, with great hope, for your upcoming vacation.   Neurotic, plan-for-every-possible-scenario me was wanting a bit of insight on whether I needed to start lining up borrowed rain gear just in case.  Note: I had already gone after a second pair of shoes to ensure dry tootsies in the the event of precipitation.  So, mentally prepared for him to report back on 'chances of showers', (knowing that I had a rain plan), imagine my surprise when the 'real', published long-range forecast for May 1, in Napa Valley, actually came up with "a chance of snow flurries and nighttime frost".  What?!  This was just about the last thing I imagined and decided promptly to ignore it as a late April Fool's prank or simply the reason that  I swear that there must be no job with higher job security rates that the local weather reporter has. 

The next morning I shot off an email to my real local weather dude, Mr. Vineyard Guy Tim,  and asked if he would consider starring deep into his crystal weather ball to see what May 1-5 might hold for us.  After Harvest '07, he has a now discovered knack for keeping us all up-to-date on the forecast in an information loaded, fun-to-read, personalized format.  From the day of my request forward, his chatty emails reassured me that I had nothing to worry about with each of his reports growing more favorable.  He was right---our weather was amazing.  Not too hot or cold, some wind but nothing our hats with chin straps couldn't handle.

So today as I picked my second grader up from school where you could feel the heat ricocheting off the black top as we approached and he said, "mom, I want to go home and use dad's computer to check the temperature in Death Valley", I thought to myself, "rain, why ever did I worry about rain?".  When we got home and checked the valley temperatures at 4 p.m. (Napa down to 92.4 and Death losing @ 84), we proceeded to spend the rest of the day laying low in the shuttered house and dipping our toes in the cold pool while I just kept thinking to myself how lucky we were that today wasn't seven days ago!

Day 5 + 8: Cut the String?

When is the real question.  When do I 'cut the string?'

The week before I left on my adventure, I received a phone call from a friend of mine asking "do you mind if I get some string to make wrist ties for all of the people that are supporting you in this?"  She explained to me that it was something she had done before the birth of her child and that it helped 'tie everyone together.'   I assured her that I was fine with it and didn't think too much further on it.  I was under the impression that this was something that would be distributed when we were all together the last day of the walk and that was all there was to it.  Well, little did I know what was taking hold...

Finding the right string was no simple feat.  In the days before I left, my friend called me to tell me that at last, she had found the right string.  Orange string, not readily available in Napa.  I am not sure how she knew that orange was perfect but she did.  Orange is...the color I have always described my hair, was my son's die-hart favorite for the first six years of his life, the color of our playroom walls (Tangerine Sherbert to be exact), the color I had my toes painted each time before I went into treatment, and coincidentally, the 'official' ribbon color for skin cancer.  So on with orange.

The next 'string related call' was the day before departure to inform me that she had just completed the first tying---her family including two kids, and two dogs  (I think the chickens had a waiver)--- and that she was en route to tie us up too.  She arrived on my doorstep and banded me and then proceeded on to the hotel around the corner to wrangle my father, mother and kids swimming in the pool.  Job #2 done.  At this point, I realized she was serious but I still wasn't clear on the power of the act at hand.

On with our adventure.  As our morning departure at my children's school unfolded, I began to notice there were a few other banded cohorts.  And then, lone behold, I jumped on boarded and strung a few myself--my children's teachers, a dear friend and her daughter, a friend that joined us along the way... something was happening.   As the day went on, I started to hear word of other wild banding encounters--the school office got hit, principal included and our dear friend and nursery school teacher was tracked down.  During the day,  I received a call asking me 'how can I get a string.'  Wow!

In the next days of our walk, I took the opportunity to orange knot a few others---Ian, the kayak guy, my dear friend from Berkeley that met us for a meal, our host family in San Rafael---slowly but surely, a web of orange string was crossing the miles.  

In all of the stringing fun, the one guideline that was never provided was, when to cut the string. Unlike those nasty fiber-filled bands from the unlimited ride admission, I didn't feel like I wanted to just snap my string because I hit mile 76.  There was more to it than that, and I had become a bit attached to the band---symbolically it didn't seem right.  So, I set in my mind that there was going to be a 'right point.'  Maybe Day 5 + 5, five days after I was home, but that came and went.  Or maybe + 7, a  week later, but here we are on + 8 and I am 'still strung.'  However, the thing I noticed today is that...I am not the only one that is still strung!  I noticed five other strings out there in my daily activities, none on my own family.  I had someone raise their wrist across a crowded school yard to show me theirs still in tact, saw another friend's peak out from a shirt sleeve and I even received some advice from a friend's husband on how he had used a bit of soap on his to wash it up (he noticed mine was filthy from my Sunday of gardening).  So, clearly, the answer has not presented itself yet so I will remain strung until further notice!

Thank you sweet Anissa for adding yet another amazing chapter to my adventure.  I would never have imagined that orange string could be so powerful!  And, I am brighter now, I followed his advice, applied soap, and lost the garden shadow.

Day 5 + 7: A Week Ago Today...

"Where was I, right now, a week ago today?" That is the question that kept playing through my head at each turn of my day today.  

Being that a week ago today was the last day of our walk and our long anticipated and planned for arrival at Dr. Minor's office (five years in anticipation from my perspective), I guess it makes sense.  Not to mention that I am a bit of a sucker for symbolic dates and anniversaries. 

Somewhere in the breakfast-pack lunches-brush hair- make it to school by the bell mayhem of the beginning of this day, I remembered the like chaos of the 'Walton-like', nineteen person morning scene at the hostel last week.  I chuckled to myself.

In my mid-morning fit of office/admin/computer shuffle, my screen saver flashed by a picture of the amazing lupines and cow parsnips that graced our morning climb just last week.  I smiled to myself and took a moment to stop and recall the smell of that cool morning hike.

Then, at shortly before noon as I was finishing up a great yoga class and slipping into a moment of quiet meditation, eyes closed on my back, tears started rolling down my cheek.  I was taken back---this has never happened to me in a yoga class.  I took a deeper breath and hoped that everyone else was following 'the rules' and keeping their eyes closed as I tried to figure out what was going on.  Suddenly I realized that, 'at this time, a week ago today', we had just come over the top of the final hill above the Golden Gate Bridge, and taking in the breathtaking view, the same thing had happened---tears rolling down my cheek.  Coincidence?  Who knows.

By mid-day, as I climbed back into my car, taking all of this into consideration, I decided that perhaps I should listen to what I was being told (not common if you know me well) and just try to take the rest of this day as a bit of a personal reflective celebration.  

That determined, I said "yes" to Anissa's suggestion of an evening hike/walk and I headed to the grocery store to shop for a much desired celebratory spread of Spring goodies for dinner.  

Dinner was tasty:  grilled salmon and our first garden fava beans, bulgur with garlic, lemon, parsley and mint, butter lettuce and arugula salad with radishes and avocado, strawberry, rhubarb fool made with two pints of our own berries and a glass of champagne.  Yum!  

And, to round it out, I am fairly certain that the rattlesnake that we came upon on our hike tonight, was the one that I was so sure would show up on our walk last week but never did!  I will never forget that sound.

So, literally, this moment last week, I was passed out cold, snoring away, in my own comfy bed, snuggled between to warm cuddly kids---mmmm!  I am off to try and recreate that now.  Sweet dreams.

Day 5 + 6: Thank You Mom!

As  Mother's Day comes to a close, it is my mom that is on my mind.  Looking back over the past five years, I don't think there is any other person that has consistently given so much of themselves to me.  

Five years ago today, I am quite sure that none of us really had a concept of what was ahead.  I had just been diagnosed with cancer and my mother, recently retired,  had just  moved my grandmother from Washington state to our family home in California to care for her.  As if the job of caring for your aging mother is not enough, within a matter of weeks, my mom had even more loaded on her plate.  Every two weeks, for the next six months (& nearly once a month for the two years after that), she drove five hours to Napa to care for my two children, both still in diapers.  On many trips, she also had my grandmother in tow---juggling four generations at Camp Kaywoodie.

As I reflect back on that time, I don't know what words even begin to describe what her presence did for me.  The process of leaving my young children each time I went away for treatment was heart wrenching.  I weaned my daughter in the days before I began chemo and my son was still a 'mommy-rock-me-back-to-sleep, multiple-time-a-night-waker.'  I simply don't know how I would have had the focus and energy to fight the fight I did, each time, if it weren't for knowing that Grandma Marilynn was on deck.  Hugging, cooking, cleaning, diapering, loving, and willingly making up and telling the crazy 'Bob & Sally' bedtime sagas we had created as a nightly family tradition.   She was my rock.

Skip forward five years to this time last week, and not much has changed.  Once again I left home, for five days (only this time knowing I would come home feeling great)  and it was Grandma Marilynn who stepped in to man the kid front.  Gone were the days of diapering, 'Bob & Sally' stories and midnight feedings, replaced by squabbling sibs, homework and fart-humor; but one thing remains the same--the love and support of my mom, makes so much possible for me.

Each time my mom left when I was in treatment, I would sit on the curb and watch her go with tears streaming down my face.  In the last couple of years, it is my daughter that has taken on that job---as that white car rolls away down Kaywoodie, she breaks into sobs.  This time Grandma left, and I could see my daughter was trying very hard to control herself---the car pulled away, no tears, and she looked up at me and with a wavering voice said "see mommy, this time I didn't cry".  All was well until she saw the tear roll down my cheek and then we both had a sniffle together.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!  I LOVE YOU!

Day 5 + 5: Looking Forward

It was a good trip and I think we knew that from the first steps.  I also realized that there was a genetic trend unfolding when somewhere near midday on Day 2, about 20 miles into our adventure, our chatter rolled into a discussion of planning our next trip(s).  This one barely underway, it became clear that I was in like company; someone else who was as turned on by the process of planning and preparing for the trip, as taking the trip itself.  That said, by halfway through Day 2, this adventure was more than halfway over and it was high time to determine what was going to hold each of our interests for the months ahead, until we could go again.

Over the rest of the miles, we discussed my dad's upcoming travels to Honduras and Guatemala, ideas for how my dad could craft a adventure that would enable him to take his older brother on a trip despite health restrictions, our family summer local travel plans, my desire to travel to Central America and to return to South East Asia, and more.  Despite all the fantasy travel we came up with, the trip that kept recurring in our conversations was the one we were on (Napa to San Francisco by foot), round two. As the days of walking unfolded, this notion kept surfacing.  By the end of our adventure, it was clear that we both intended do it again. So, the dream of, 555+1 was born.

In the couple of days after I returned home, amidst the wild flurry of laundry, pantry restocking and unpacking, there weren't many moments for fantasy travel.  But alas, the dust has settled a bit, I am rested, 'norm' has set back in and today, I found myself looking at a 2009 calendar to see when May 1-5 fell.  And then opening the map drawer to see what other options there were from getting from Napa to Sonoma, and Sonoma to Petaluma, and Petaluma to..... Funny thing.....not more than a half and hour later I looked at my computer and saw an email from my dad with a link to a map of the 'California Coastal Trail' and where it crosses Marin County.  And this is what I learned:

Thanks to intense grassroots efforts some 40-years ago to protect Marin County’s remarkable coast, today’s visitors can walk almost 60 of the 72-mile coastline on a trail or beach, and visit State and National Parks, historic military structures, and diverse visitor centers along the way. Sandy coves, steep headlands, oak and evergreen forests and coastal sagelands abound. Congress and local governments preserved the coastline for the public by creating Point Reyes National Seashore and the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. Their combined areas constitute one of our country’s great urban parklands: totaling 140,000 acres of natural coastal open space. [Richard Nichols]

Gotta love genetics---sounds like planning for 555+1 is already underway.
  Wanna come?  Find your 2009 calendar and take a look, May 1 is a Friday!

Day 5 + 4: 'Back in the Saddle'

As the week comes to a close, it is hard for me to believe that a week ago tonight we were mid-555 and that in one day, we will have been home as long as we were gone.  Wow how it has all flown by.

Tuesday and Wednesday, my first two days home, I spent in somewhat of a fog.  A 'hangover' of sorts.  After five intoxicating days, it took me 48 hours to focus clearly again, make order of my day and begin to walk a straight line.  

But, alas (for better or worse), I am 'back in the saddle.'  After a brief 'test stroll' on Wednesday night, I laced up my shoes again yesterday morning and knocked out a 5.5 mile walk.  Somehow, it just felt like the natural thing to do and it jump started my day.  This afternoon, two days back in to my routine kid shuffle, errands, work meetings, classroom duties, grocery shopping and a haircut, I was beginning to wonder if I had ever gone away. What happened to that amazing buzz I had?  That certain feeling of clarity that I had when I hit the top of the last hill on Webster.  Was it gone only to be captured by the photos?  

The answer came as I whipped around the corner of Kaywoodie St. and into my driveway----NO WAY, not gone at all baby!  What to my wondering eyes should appear? ....but a yard full of amazing, handmade picket signs, the ones that greeted us four days ago in San Francisco!  An friend had returned them to me but instead of in a pile on my doorstep, they were staked throughout the yard certain to create a stir in the neighborhood real estate market.  Watch out Coldwell Banker---"Cancer Sucks" and "Happy Days are Here Again" are in the 'hood and doing real good.  Instantly, that feeling of clarity returned.  Thank you dear Berry Fairy, you made my day---no saddle sores here!

The Sensual Traveler--Thoughts Past and Present

A reverse on an old quote:  "like daughter, like father"--- delivered to me (Kari) at 2:18 a.m. from my dad.  Seems the Worth minds work well in the wee hours.

In 1977, during a solo, 90-day sea kayaking exploration of the San Juan Islands I began keeping a journal of sensory impressions--sight, sound, taste, touch and smell. Good, bad, evocative, distasteful--everything that rang my bell.

Some sixty days later, while camped on Matia Island in the northern San Juan Islands, I met a gentleman hiker and we swapped a few yarns. When I mentioned the "sensory journal" he immediately responded that I really should meet his daughter who was camping with him and his wife on the other end of the island, and an invitation to dinner (in a "powerboat" camp with ice, cold beverages, fresh produce and a lantern) was irresistable.

My hosts proved fascinating: he an English teacher at the federal penitentiary on McNeil Island in Puget Sound and his wife an art educator in Tacoma. But it was the daughter and the journal that brought us together--she had received her M.D. degree from UCLA, and was completing her Ph.D. in endocrinology there. Her research involved her learned ability to identify by smell ten different types of cancers from laboratory cultures, and her work in objectifying/describing the scents so she could train technicians to replicate her skills and results.

Whether it was my reaction to tredding on human feces at the first beach I camped on that summer, or a later experience of following a game trail out of a campsite and feeling my hackles rise, and caution/fear grip me, as the scent of nettles permeated my senses with long-forgotten painful lessons learned at six and seven years of age in verdant western Washington streambeds, we conversed at length about all manner of sensory stimuli. And the habit continues....

Sounds--

The first sensory input I noted after our departure from Northwood Elementary was a cell phone ring!! Never having been an owner/user it was a shock, much like a day some forty years before as I serenely kayaked north until an overhead Navy helicopter set up a sympathic vibration in the fiberglass deck of my kayak and made me feel like a tympanist in the Berlin Philharmonic.

The cell phone became a fixture of the journey just as compass/timepiece/chart had served me in the past. The best was establishing communication/coordination with Ian for the Petaluma River crossing by kayak; the bittersweet side of instant communication occured as we hiked a steep grade in the Marin Headlands on our last leg to San Francisco and were rewarded with our first vista of the Golden Gate Bridge--photos, cheers, exuberance, and then the tear-laden downer as one of the party received word by cell that a beloved grandfather had died.

But the cell phone rings will probably fade with time, and it will be music that remains. In past journeys it has been Pablo Casals and Bach on the church steps in Xalapa de Vera Cruz, and the Gregorian Chants of the monks of Santo Domingo de Silos, and fado in Lisboa. This time it was Eli's Suzuki-trained, after-dinner violin recital at David and Naomi's in San Rafael; I was enthralled; my dentist, concertmaster of the San Luis Obispo Symphony, will share my excitement.


Sights--

So there are always greener palms, more magnificent religious monuments and edifices, sunsets that excel. Or faces that radiate joy, sorrow, ethnicity, youth, age, wisdom and life. But I think for me it is textures that imprint.

Even the short Petaluma River crossing refreshed memories of the random fractal interplay of wind and current, while the sky above brought back images of halos, rainbows, sun dogs, mirages, lunar phases, constellations, satellites, the moons of Jupiter.

The black-tailed jackrabbits bouncing along in front provided great entertaiment, as did the loquacious/melodious red-winged blackbirds beside us, but it was the step-by-step textures that stimulated my senses. Concrete, blacktop, gravel, sand, grass, vineyard soil, irregular rails and sleepers and ballast, and then rails with a bed of driftwood between (and my mind drifts to a hundred, a thousand scenes of driftwood), a terrazzo mall floor, steel grating and wooden plank bridges, and finally, a carpet and a buffet of champagne, cheese and caviar....


Touch--

So the grip of a kayak paddle in my hands, the splash of the water, yet another stroke to add to the 1,000,000++ repetitive moves I've made reminded me of pleasures past at day's end--the firewood-heated, bucket-bath of salt water with a one-quart fresh water rinse; a freshly prepared campfire meal; a padded bed on leveled ground and a (hopefully) dry sleeping bag.

And so, the contrast could not be greater, but nonetheless just as real, at our sponsors and hosts' accommodations: copious steaming showers, wonderful meals, and blissful white sheets with ethereal pillows.... Sensory experiences are what one encounters, not what one presupposes.


Smell--

It seems to me that smell is the most evocative of the senses, and I might add, the one that I register ever more weakly as the years pass. Kari clearly processed more information about scents than I did, but even a little waft put me at an advantage, as I have years of catalogued memories to recall and compare. The railroad-track route we chose had some wonderful sensory hits--like the ankle-high, shin-high, waist-high spring fennel sprouting from the roadbed. Or the little stream washouts of the roadbed where we tramped over/were enveloped by the intoxicating scent of mint. And that of course took each of us to distant scented memories.

And so, my mind returned to gathering driftwood for my morning breaking of fast, and the major dinner fire. The scent of splitting Western red cedar kindling, and the rare but treasured experience of a piece of Rocky Mountain juniper to fill the evening campsite with an incense worthy of Shangri-la.

So there are travel scents that pique the senses, and those that sweep over you and set a whole tone, like the sea air across the Golden Gate or the increasing gas/diesel fumes as we approached our final goal.

And it was the sea air and the fennel and the mint that recalled to me my greatest olfactory high.
I was at the end of a day-long, 30-mile paddle up a coastal fjord in British Columbia, and after clearing the final tidal current narrows I headed for the fjord-head Chatterbox Falls. The 2,000-foot-deep fjord was flanked by peaks that reached 8,000 feet, 1½ miles in from the fjord margin.
As the summits cooled with the long summer setting of the sun, the now heavy cooler air careened down the sun-heated slopes of forbs and shrubs in a catabatic cascade. The result? A priceless, once-in-a-lifetime immersion in the olfactory botany of the British Columbia coast....


Taste--

When one is on a journey, a pilgrimage, a trek, food becomes a focus, a fixation, a reality. First of all it is the fuel, the tiger in the tank. Miles traversed become calories consumed. And if the fuel you consume meets other aesthetic needs, so much the better. One of the pleasures of traveling with Kari is that we are both dyed-in-the-wool foodies.

From Indian pudding at Colonial Williamsburg to salal berries on Blind Island to din-din at the French Culinary Institute in NYC, we dig it. So many highs I can't include them all. Brut Rose at Domaine Carneros and Marshlands Chardonnay at Acacia Vineyards to accompany Unsuk's wonderful, refreshing fruit offering (on a lovely Italian ceramic plate).

TJ's helped us all along the way with cashews, almonds, spicy pecans, chocolate, dried pears, cherries, apricots, ginger snaps, cheese and sausage. And there were fresh loquats off a suburban sidewalk tree. Three Twins Ice Cream with allspice, blood orange sorbet, and coffee choices.

And the first beers--Boont Amber for Mike and a Hefeweisen for Kari in Ignacio. Which skips over the Moules Mariniere and fine wine of our first night out in Sonoma. And for our umami tastes, the wonderful grilled lamb with artichoke risotto at David and Naomi's.

The picnic at the Marin Headlands Hostel was outstanding; I made outrageous sandwiches, snacked on great cookies, and relished the "Manifesto!" sauvignon blanc which later appeared as a splendid gift to the medical personnel at CalPacMedCtr.

And so, one journey ends, but only after being immersed in its sensual dimensions. Already we talk of next year's trek--perhaps Napa → Sonoma → Petaluma → Tomales Bay → and south on the coastal trail/route to Marin Headlands and San Francisco.....

Day 5 + 3: What is 'Monkey Butt'?

As I return to my daily routine and see the familiar faces that knew I was taking this crazy walk---the cashier at the grocery store, school teachers, other moms picking up kids from school, the neighbors, etc.,---the most asked question has to be "how are your feet?"  or  "are you sore?"

My feet are happy. I attribute that to good socks (thick-bottomed wool for me) and the canister of 'Anti Monkey Butt Powder' my dad scored on the bargain rack right before he came to Napa.  This large yellow shaker with a  label stating it as a "sweat absorber and friction fighter" and picturing a cartoon monkey giving the thumbs up with his large, red rump facing you is a mixture of talc and calamine powder.  Needless to say, sitting on our counter in the days before departure it was a source of great giggles for the resident six and seven year olds.  Evidently this uncomfortable, chaffing affliction (monkey butt) is well known by truckers, motorcycles riders and others that participate in "butt busting activities."  My butt was not my concern however it seemed a great use for my sweaty pups.  I cut the powder 50:50 with cornstarch and carried it in a Ziploc bag (a rather suspicious looking package when whipped out in public).  Each morning and a couple times throughout the day, I unrolled my baggie and I dusted my feet with this magic white powder and presto, happy feet!

As for the rest of me, I think my training was adequate and my body was ready for the adventure.  I walked 6-8 miles as day at least 4 days a week, at a pace of 4 miles/hour (pretty fast)  in the month prior to my departure.  My strategy was that if I was conditioned to handle the more rapid 4 mile/hour pace, our budgeted 2.5-3 miles per hour, including rest stops, would make up for the increased mileage.  I think it worked.  The lactic acid came each time we took a break and getting moving again took a moment however, most mornings I felt pretty darn good and was ready to 'keep on trucking.'

All said and done, the most tired part of me is my mind.  This was not just a physical journey, it was an emotional and mental one too.  The sights, sounds, smells, experiences, thoughts, conversations, friends, family, new people, and memories along the way have crammed my brain full and will take time to process.  There were also many short nights of sleep before and during our adventure and each night since I have returned, I have slept like a rock.  

So, the answer to the questions are:

• Feet:  great, not blisters or pain
• Body:  good too, a day of sore knees/calves from the last day of hills
• Mind:  full,  processing and tired

Day 5 + 2: Five Days of Stats

As I settle back  in, return to life as I knew it, and clear my pedometer of 76.53 miles, I thought I would document some of the basic trip statistics.

Day 1:

• Actual Mileage:  17.93
• Route:  Napa to Sonoma ( intersection 121/12 & 116)
• Hills:  minimal, rolling
• Terrain:  neighborhoods (3 miles), country roads (11.5 miles), railroad (2 miles), busy highway shoulder (1.5 miles)
• Lodging:  Vineyard Inn, Schelville
• Meals:  Snack-Domaine Carneros, Lunch-Acacia, Dinner-Hutchinson's home,  Sonoma
• Walkers:  7 partial day (Mike, Jen, Wendy, Karen, Darcy, David, & me), 4 half day (Mike, Jen, Wendy, & me), 3 all day (Mike, Wendy & me)

Day 2

• Actual Mileage:  17.52
• Route:  Sonoma to Ignacio (Novato)
• Hills: none, flat all the way
• Terrain:  busy highway shoulder (1 mile), vineyard dirt road road (1 mile), railroad (13.5), river paddle (.75 mile),  country road (.5 mile), city sidewalk (.5 mile)
• Lodging:  Courtyard Novato
• Meals:  Breakfast-Trader Joe's trail snacks, Lunch-Angelo's Deli sandwich on the tracks, Dinner-Boca Restaurant, Novato
• Walkers:  2 all day (Mike & me)

Day 3

• Actual Mileage:  12.77
• Route:  Ignacio (Novato) to San Rafael
• Hills: just a couple small ones
• Terrain:  railroad (7 miles), city sidewalk (4.5 mile), shopping mall (.5 mile), brushy hillside (.5 mile)
• Lodging:  Torgersen home (Kari), Embassy Suites San Rafael (Mike)
• Meals:  Breakfast-Trader Joe's trail snacks, Lunch - Thai food, Northgate Mall, Snack - Three Twins Ice Cream, San Rafael, Dinner-Torgersen Home, San Rafael
• Walkers:  2 all day (Mike & me), visitors at Three Twins (Annie, Chloe, & Tess)

Day 4

• Actual Mileage:  16.62
• Route:  San Rafael to Marin Headlands Hostel
• Hills:  lots-two major west Marin neighborhood hill crossings, Tennessee Valley Rd. grade, Old Springs Trail to Wolf Summit
• Terrain:  city sidewalks (8 miles), bike trails (2 miles), mall (.5 miles), country road (2.5 mile), hiking trail (4 miles)
• Lodging:  Marin Headlands Hostel
• Meals:  Breakfast:  Torgersen home/Embassy Suites buffet, Lunch:  Delano's Market, Mill Valley, Dinner:  amazing picnic at Headlands
• Walkers:  5 all day (Mike, Naomi, Cari, Michelle & me),  9.5 final 5 miles (Mike, Naomi, Cari, Michelle, Carolyn, Annie, Shanna, Seana, me & Benson the dog), a couple more join ins on the last stretch (Susan, Mike & Sandee)

Day 5

• Actual Mileage:  11.69
• Route:  Marin Headlands to California Pacific Medical Center, via Coastal Trail and Golden Gate Bridge
• Hills:  YES--lots.  Three substantial climbs on the Coastal Trail and that final, vertical climb on Webster St.
• Terrain:  hiking trail (4.5 miles), bridge walk (2 miles), bayside promenade path (3.5 miles), city sidewalk (2 miles)
• Meals:  Breakfast:  hostel potluck, Lunch:  Warming Huts on Crissy Field, Snack:  reception at CPMC, Dinner:  Taylor's @ the Ferry Plaza
• Walkers:  6 all day (Mike, Shanna, Annie, Cari, Laura, & me), Bridge & 27 other join ins (David D., Calem, Emilia, Marilynn, Janet, Susan, Mike, Anissa, Dave, Gianna, Angelina, Seana, Trey, Cale, Darcy, Rob, Callum, Grae, Kelly, Carleigh, Lori, Geoff, Sophia, Isabel, David T., Jyl, Keaton)

Day 5 + 1: What Happened to Day 5?

Good Morning!  Day 5---wow, what a rush---hills, vistas, hugs, wind, cheer, tears, memories, gratitude---it all led to a crash and burn scenario on return to Camp Kaywoodie.  Cold beer, hot shower, bedtime story with the kids, and the next intent was blog time to close the chapter; the reality was a snoring mom that didn't rise until morning despite her instructions to 'wake me up if I fall asleep.'  So here I am, on Day 5+1.

After a 'Walton's Wake up', Team Hostel  (My dad & me + a Napa contingent of Shanna, Annie, Laura, Cari & my husband David) set out for the Golden Gate Bridge while a team  of braver bodies remained behind on car pack up and kid duty.  The hike out was simply amazing---steep climbs up trails sided with lush vegetation (& lots of poison oak), copious wildflowers and native plants that Annie, my dad and I hung back to take in, beautiful vistas back over the Headlands and Rodeo Lagoon and at last, we crested another hill and were greeted by our first view of the top of the Golden Gate towers and a whoop of cheers let out.  

The final 1.6 mile trek was some of the most strenuous of the trip---a straight up hillside climb brought us to the top of the windy, cold bluff on the west side of the bridge and a breathtaking 360 degree view of San Francisco, East Bay, Mt. Tam and beyond.  The view down left me wondering, short of a giant fire pole slide, how the heck were we going to get 'there from here' as it appeared to necessitate a straight down drop.  A couple of steep spells of down trail with cabled side rails and a long zig-zag trail crossing the hillside brought us closer to the gathering of 'specks' that we knew where there to greet us.  

As we came out of the grove at the bottom of the trail we were charged by a fleet of balloon butterflies in polar attire (our cold kids with balloon butterfly wings made by dear Lori), the group grew to 30+ and the parade proceeded down the east side of the Golden Gate Bridge.  A two mile walk of bike dodging, photo stops, and kids bouncing between families for a hand hold followed as new walkers kept appearing to join in along the way (Jyl & Keaton, a second grader  from Napa en route to his last chemo treatment, Susan a Cornell roommate  & Janet a dear SF friend that spent so many nights at my hospital bedside).  After a quick transportation snafu resolution summit at the south end that left me relieved to have a few SF local in tow,  we marched on to the Warming Huts below for a much needed feeding break.  Hot chocolate, tea, trail snacks and sandwiches were a good energy boost and spirit lift.

After a few tearful goodbyes to bridge walkers returning to Napa, our morning team grew again with our SF locals Susan & Janet and Shanna's mom, Lynne, in for the last haul. As the kids embarked on a full scale hill rolling play session, running a bit behind for the final leg push, we set off for a brisk walk along Crissy Field.  With ships passing by, a newspaper photographer sprinting ahead of us to snap pictures, and a step in visit from my friend David on a break from his job at the Exploratorium,  we proceeded on to the Marina Green and our final turn onto Webster St.  As we knew all along, this turn produced a view of the final and hardest mile of the adventure (as it always was when I made my hospital trips too) ---straight up the Webster St. hill where I frequently feel like I won't make it to the crest even in our car.

Calves burning, sweat dripping and our SF hill climbing locals prancing out in front (I did remind them that they had missed the first 70 miles of the trek)----at last, we crested the hill and approached our final destination---California Pacific Medical Center.  As we walked the last block, I fingered the necklace Laura gave me for safe travels as I left Napa five days ago (that now had the heart charm added that I wore through all of my treatment), stole a quick moment to take stock of the amazing people walking this hill with me (and waiting at the top) as they have at so many other hills along the cancer journey way, and took a deep breath as I did a quick flashback on what all this meant to me.  Eyes filling with tears, the welcoming group with the best picket line that has ever graced CPMC, stood waiting for our arrival.  "SF or Bust", "Thank You Nurses", "Go Momma Kari", and "Cancer Free, Way to Be"  were among the 'picket sign' messages they held as heads turned.

A  sparkling wine, caviar and Gatorade reception awaited at the hospital.  Dr. Minor's arrival received a cheer and the promised gift of champagne with a new Coolibar sun hat, a bottle of Blue Lizard sunscreen and a Kleen Kanteen (the walkers 'party pack')  were delivered in person, five years later.  Nurses came and went and  toasts, hugs, heartfelt thanks and tears were exchanged.  With a 4' x 10' poster of a study highlighting the outcome of biochemo treatment hanging on the wall and me listed as a case study among the small number of survivors, I once again realized what a monumental day this was.  I am here, I am well, I am strong, I am mom and I just walked 75 miles---AMEN!

As the kids grew restless the time had come to wrap it up. Before leaving CPMC, I slipped out for a quick minute to revisit the floor where I had been treated and to meet a patient and his wife from Reno that I have been corresponding with for the last few months.  As I learned in my journey, hope is a powerful drug, and it is my hope that my return to health can serve as a tangible instance of beating this awful beast, melanoma.  As Jeff endures his last round of chemo and embarks on the next phase of treatment, I will carry of vision of him as a strong, vital dad, husband, tennis partner, nature lover, and 5th grade teacher with one more life experience to share with generations to come.  Go Jeff Go!  

Cars loaded once more, the group of twenty-five descended on to Taylor's at Ferry Plaza for a post adventure family meal.  Cold beer, spicy tomato soup and sweet potato fries met my cravings while burgers, dogs, fries, fish tacos and milkshakes filled the tables all around.  Bellies and hearts full, like circus clowns in a VW bug act, we stuffed bodies into cars brimming with the trimmings of five days of adventure for the DRIVING trek back to Napa.  As I sat in the back seat and looked out my window, my mind retraced the past five days with each passing familiar sight---a bridge, a vista, frontage roads, a building, railroad tracks in the distance---my son Calem narrating all the way, "that was the third night", "that was the second night"... it was an adventure shared by many.

As I stepped in our door to wagging dog (not just her tail), we scurried off to hot showers and bedtime stories.  I fully intended to proceed on to writing this last night but nestled between two warm kiddos a long, hard sleep came quickly.  Reportedly, attempts at waking me failed and morning came.  The best sleep I have had in weeks, I woke feeling strong and ready to go again (although I am still in my PJs)---so, if anyone wants to go for a walk, just let me know---75 miles + 1???

Day 5: The Walton's

Nineteen for breakfast leaves me wondering what life at the Walton's home was like on a daily basis!?

My morning walking waking ritual completed (a listen of 'California Stars' and a yoga moment to unwind my hips and quads), I joined the rising bodies after a search for a tub of my mom's homemade granola that I have been focused on for the last four days. Breakfast burritos by Shanna, coffee cake by Laura, fruit salad, 'Ellie's' energy bars and barista quality coffee by Anissa, kefir from Kelly round out yet another amazing food spread.

Kiddos climb their 'Lori gym' and take turns bouncing from one momma lap to another---each providing a snuggle; Anissa delivers my David coffee in bed, Calem reads me riddles (what to you get when you cross a bell and a bat?*) and Emilia gives me a back rub. As all this happens around me, I have to bite my lip to stop the happy tears from rolling out of my eyes. These shrieks of joy and family comfort are clear reminders of the multitude of blessings that have been the rock solid foundation of my last five years and the five day adventure that comes to a close today.

* a Dingbat!

Day 5, Final Itinerary--Arrival in SF

• Marin Headlands Hostel (0915) to North Golden Gate Bridge parking area (1130) via Coastal Trail 4.2 miles

• Parking Vista Point (1200) to South Golden Gate Bridge parking area (1300) 2.0 miles

• South Vista Point (1300) to California Pacific Medical Center (1500) 3.8 miles

Total Distance, Day 5 10.0 Miles

Day 4: The Thrill of Hills

The cool, gray day launched with our duo of past days growing to a chatty quintet. Joined by two Napa friends (Cari & Michelle) and my college roommate, Naomi, we left on time to navigate San Rafael's eastern warehouse area. The ease of wide, flat sidewalks quickly gave way to climbing the hills of steep Marin neighborhoods---oooh baby, the calves where suddenly wide awake!

Passing Sunday morning crew practice on the waterfront and a string of eccentric waterfront artists studios, (all the while our San Rafael representative registering amazement that we had discovered a route to traverse her neck of the woods that she was totally unaware of), morning break was spent in the Corte Madera Town Center Mall where dad made a quick dash into the REI to see if he could root up a deal on the bargain gear rack. Another blast of hill climbing and a stretch on the Bay Trail through Mill Valley found us on time to our lunch stop and another round of fresh faces---four more amazing Napa friends joined the jamboree.

With Carolyn, Shanna, Annie & Seana on board, the wide-brimmed hat parade moved on to climbing Tennessee Valley Road, heading for the Old Springs Trail head and a monster hill. Hillsides seeded with Cow Parsnip, lupines, poppies and a host of other lovely vegetation kept my mind busy while my hips and quads voiced their desire to hit the flats. Half way up the hill climb a familiar face appeared once more as we were joined by Sandee, a longtime friend from Los Osos. Ocean and bay views were the top of the hill reward as we picked up the Miwok Trail and began our descent into the Marin Headlands with the parade again swelling as another college friend Susan and her husband Mike appeared.

After sixteen miles and plenty of hills, we were all glad to see the hillside perched hostel appear in the distance. An amazing afternoon gradually unfolded---a patchwork of picnic blankets with 20+ families scattered on them, kids running free for hours and yes, plenty of tasty eats (I see no reason to not enjoy the down time on this adventure!). What a wonderful afternoon.

As I write, the hostel is finally quiet as the ZZZZZZzs take over; it was a chaotic hostel arrival as seven kids investigated all bunks, closets and stairwells. It is so hard for me to believe that this is it, another countdown, this one to the end of the adventure. With 60 + miles logged, we are almost there and tomorrow promises to be a big day. The anticipation of my first ever walk across the Golden Gate Bridge, with my family and friends at my side will dance through my mind as I steal a few hours of sleep.

Day 4, Itinerary

Rafael Drive Residence, San Rafael (0800) to Town Center Mall, Corte Madera (1000) rest stop	5.1 miles
Town Center Mall (1030) to Shoreline Hwy/Gibson-Flamingo Road (1215)	4.5 miles
Shoreline Hwy/Flamingo Road (1230) to Tennessee Valley Road end parking (1330)	1.5 miles
Parking (1330) to Marin Headlands Hostel (1500) via Old Spring and Miwok trails	3.5 miles
Total Distance, Day 4	14.6 miles

This logistics girl is packing up the laptop, and heading out to walk from the half way point today, into the Headlands Hostel for the party tonight. I have packed my extra laptop battery, and Kari has confirmed internet connectivity, so we'll keep Blogging this adventure. Can't wait to walk the Golden Gate Bridge tomorrow, hand-in-hand with friends, family, and a woman who inspires us so well.

"Those who don't believe in magic,

will never find it."

-Roald Dahl

Day 3: Dinner Done, David Strums

Day 4 comes to a close in San Rafael after an amazing meal at the home of my college roommate, Naomi---lamb, artichoke risotto, grilled tomatoes and a lemony salad that met the cool, cruchy veggie craving I have had for the past few days. As I recount the day, her husband David is strumming away on his nightly guitar practice. What a treat to have music to type by.

Being a 'short' day (12.5 miles), we treated ourselves to a later, relaxed start. The first leg of the day was a two hour rail traverse of the eastern edge of the Novato/San Rafael cooridor. Beautiful wide open marsh land with farm and bay vistas, deer families, and euctalyptus scents on a warm, crystal clear day.

High noon found us in an entirely different environment, square in the middle of the cool airconditioned food court of the Northgate Mall, eating yummy, well revered, Thai food (yes, a planned stop). A post lunch, off the beaten path, three mile round trip trek followed with a mission to visit the flagship Three Twins Ice Cream in San Rafael for their annual 'free scoop day.' As we neared our mecca, a honking horn revealed a familiar silver van sailing by us with my friend Annie and her girls waving madly---far out, we had ice cream company! After a leisurly hour of visiting with Neal (the owner, and the 'Annie clan', swapping samples of allspice, milk coffee, bittersweet chocolate and blood orange sorbet, the stomp continued.

As the day's trek wound down, our rail travels came to an abrupt end at a barricaded tunnel. A vertical hillside scramble and some bush wacking to locate the best route out resulted and we soon found our way through neighboorhood streets to the doorstep of our San Rafael hosts.

A much needed cool pool dip at my dad's hotel, a cold hops based beverage and a hot shower, rendered me ready to 'walk on.' Good thing, tomorrow is a big one!

Day 3-Dawning: Half Day = Half Way

I can hardly believe that 'hump day' has begun---that is to say that lunch today will mark the midway point of our adventure.

So far, so good, Day 3 has had a lovely dawning:

• a 'not yet ready to get out of my very comfy bed, so I am going to lay in the dark' music moment, Wilco's 'California Stars'(thanks David for a new IPOD loading)
• a hotel room floor, as dad snores, yoga session (thanks Sharon for teaching me this amazing tool)
• a hot bath with Bob (Bob Dylan on my IPOD that it is)---just checking to seeif you are with me and awake yet!
• and now a first in line,hotel lobby computer session with my coffee.
  

So as you can see, this job of walking isn't too shabby.

A few midway gear comments before I lace my shoes for the day:

Shoes: great, switching to pair #2 today so that I can take time tonight to pick all of the burrs and thorns from pair #1 (the railroad root is loaded with brush, thank you Jared @ Napa Running Company for making sure I had two pair.

Clothes: amazing. We are both wearing Coolibar UV protective shirts, hats and pants. Love my 'walking shirt', loose, comfortable, great coverage; my new hat has been great as the chin strap option has made windy afternoons much easier. Nightly handwashing yields a dry morning shirt: meets Captain Daddios tough traveling standards so his shirt may earn the right to travel with him to Honduras for a month this summer. Thank you Jennifer and John @ Coolibar.

Backpack: it rocks--hip strap is key for me. Thank you Susan and Mike Valvano for the loan.

Kleen Kanteen: A++. I am carrying two (18 & 28 oz). Love 'em. They have both taken a dive and now carry small character dents---good memories.

Snacks: wonderful. Nuts, dry fruit, chocolate, aged gouda, crackers, & assorted bars all courtesy of Trader Joe's; we added ao Angelo's VIP Jerky chunks to the pack yesterday.

Sunscreen: super. Using Blue Lizard Sport and Face resulting in very few new freckles. Passing out small sample bottles/packets at each stop with rave reviews, leaving bottles for all of our kinds host/hostesses.

Off to a second cup of coffee, some granola and Day 3 of adventure.

Day 3, Itinerary

Marriott Courtyard Novato (0900) via railroad to Marin Civic Center (1130)
Northgate Mall (1200) lunch via roads, Three Twins Ice Cream 641 Del Ganado (1330)
Marin Civic Center (1500), via railroad to Rafael Drive, San Rafael (private residence) (1545)
Total Distance, Day 3	10.6 miles

Day 2: Rail Trail, Two Ians and a Paddle

Today the adventure actually began---we were stopped on the highway early in our walk with a 'good morning' greeting from a lovely woman we met yesterday at Acacia, scaled a 10 ft. barbed wire fence, walked miles of railroad, had the opportunity to convince the railroad security (a guy named Ian) that we were well aware of the risks of our chosen rail trail that crossed a private hunting ground, and had the pleasure of meeting up with another wonderful Ian for a kayak paddle across the Petaluma River.

Seventeen miles of trek provided for hours of conversation with my father, Mike. Discovering my father's memories of my great grandparents, descriptions of my grandparent's lives as children and adults, recounting my parents experience and that of their drafted friends during the Vietnam war---stories I have always wanted to hear but the pace of life has never permitted such hours of questioning. A gift, time to share.

As Day #2 comes to a close, we sit enjoying a post dinner cup of tea in our hotel in Novato with a dear friend that has come from Berkeley and my mom, who has escaped her grandchildren for the evening (much deserved). A tasty 1/2 price happy hour dinner at Boca, an Argentinian restaurant and a most delicious cold beer were the perfect cap to a most amazing day.

As I head toward the horizontal position, I carry with me the feeling of my feet hanging off the dock of the Port Sonoma Marina, in the cool water, as I waited for my new friend, Ian, to return with a kayak for an afternoon paddle. What a treat!

Day 2, Itinerary

Sonoma Vineyard Inn (0830) to Hwy 121/37 (1130) to Angelo’s Deli and Sonoma Valley Fruit Basket for sandwiches/snacks to go; via railroad near Jacuzzi/Viansa Wineries or via Hwy 121	6.6 miles
Hwy 121/37 (1130) to Petaluma River (1300) via railroad to Marina	4.0 miles
Petaluma River Bridge (1315) to Hwy 37/101 (1430)	3.6 miles
Hwy 37/101 (1430) to Marriott Courtyard Novato (1530)	1.6 miles
Total Distance, Day 2	15.8 miles

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Day 1: Full Heart, Tired Body, & Raring to Go!

Incredible, amazing, emotional, wonderful, warm, tasty, touching, windy---all descriptions of my day today. 

• Beginning with the wall of kid-made posters wrapping the fences of Northwood School when we arrived today, a "hip,hip,hooray" chant from Room 4, 1st grade and a banner  splitting send off by Mr. Adams' 2nd grade class;
• to the slew of people that 'just showed up' along our route for a hug and/or a few blocks of walking (did you guys plan that?);
• to a sparkling wine break overlooking Carneros and a picture perfect lunch provide by one of my son's classmates mothers at Acacia Winery;
  
• to a temperate, dry, oh-so-hospitable walking weather day;
• to the grandma and husband at home,  loving my kids as they experience all of this;
• to a friend's precious family medallion that was slid into my backpack to carry  and insure a safe journey;
• to a new friend, just met today that walked the whole 17+ miles with us;
• to the delicious steamed mussel dinner we just shared with an old friend in Sonoma;
• to the call I just received from my 'missing kayak guy' wanting to ferry us across the Petaluma River...

My heart is oh so full!  After a day like today, it is no wonder to me why I survived my cancer journey--life is simply too good and the people that touch my life are a foundation for living it to the fullest.  You are all, everyone of you, so special to me.  Thank you for making this adventure possible!

And yes, my body knows I walked a long way today,  but my spirit is raring to go again tomorrow.

. . .and they're off

BLAST OFF!

Countdown done!

Breakfast eaten, body stretched, pack packed, shoes & hats on, off to school our posse goes...

"And now" cried Max, "let the wild rumpus start!", Where the Wild Things Are

Day 1, Itinerary

DAY 1: Thursday, May 1, 2008

Kari/David's House (0830) via Northwood School, to Browns Valley Market--rest stop (0930)	2.7 miles
Browns Valley Market (0945) to Domaine Carneros--rest stop (1145)	5.3 miles
Domaine Carneros (1230) to Acacia Winery, Las Amigas Rd--lunch (1315	2.0 miles
Acacia Winery (1400) to Vineyard Inn (1700)--via	7.0 miles
Total Distance, Day 1	17.0 miles

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T minus less than 1!: Ready for a Good Mystery

Can is possibly be?  Eight short hours and I (we) embark on 'the walk of my life.'  Wow, those key strokes suddenly launched misty eyes---so much to reflect on as we head off on our adventure.  I can hardly believe that the flurry of activity of the last weeks will unfold as I tie up those extra-wide, well worn running shoes in not so many hours.

Today was a blur beginning with a 7 am radio date with Kellie for local broadcast and a morning shopping trip at Trader Joe's with Tony; we are snack ready!  Packing, emails, errands, a swim at grandpa's hotel, the arrival of grandma and a tasty alfresco meal at Oxbow Market--we are well fueled.

My day was truly made possible today by my dear friend Anissa who at the last moment, scooped my daughter up from school and entertained her for the afternoon (actually, I am not sure who entertained who!), leaving me free to plow full steam ahead.  She then capped it with a fresh berry delivery and the process of tying all of my loved ones with orange wristbands in celebration of our adventure.  Giant thank you wonderful friend! 

Hanging above my monitor as I sign off for a quick sleep is a quote that I read often-

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery and today is a gift!

I love a good mystery and I can't wait to see what tomorrow's will be!  The tale of it will be my gift to you, tomorrow.  Good night!

Treating the Itchy-Feet/Wanderlust Syndrome

Ready and hoping for a warm (but not too warm) and clear first day-but it really doesn't matter... The game is afoot and we're raring to go. Even have hikers with us to begin which is great. We'll walk with Calem and Emi to school, and then down the road with David E., Jen H. and Wendy L.

Exactly a year ago I ended a six-week peregrination through Portugal, staying in hostels and having a fine adventure, with an arrival in Napa on April 30. And the next morning headed for the Napa Win Train Station and a return to the Central Coast on AMTRAK. For Kari, David and kids it was just the first stop in a day which would lead to Oakland and their own adventure on Kauai.

Our diagnosis for the 'Syndrome" and its treatment was rather like the patient who visits a dermatologist: the doc examines the problem, consults several picture books, re-examines with greater intensity, and asks "have you had this before?" "About a year ago I had the same thing" the patient replies. "Well you've got it again" is the physician's response.

So, we keep fighting the "problem," but with the same sense of excitement and pleasure that James Joyce describes in 'Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.'

"He felt his cheeks aflame and his throat throbbing with song. There was a lust for wandering in his feet that burned and set out for the ends of the earth. On! On! his heart seemed to cry. Evening would deepen above the sea, night fall upon the plains, dawn glimmer before the wanderer and show him strange fields and hills and faces. Where?"

I can hardly wait for the firsts steps of morning.....