When I first started this blog, it was to share with friends my transition from multi-mile hiker and avid backpacker to a slower, more sauntering style of wandering. (The change wasn’t all my doing. My knees are shot and my hip is no longer my friend). I wanted to capture the nuances of what I call “detailed hiking”, where stopping to contemplate leaves and dirt and bugs overrides the need to pack in the miles.
I also wanted to get back in to writing, something that I love, and yet have neglected for so many years. And then there’s the photography – another love that I haven’t had the time to perfect. Starting a blog in 2020 seemed like the perfect time to combine those loves into something I could share with others.
And then COVID-19 hit.
For the last 11 years, part of my job was to write disaster response plans, train people in disaster preparedness and response, and conduct exercises in community response to a variety of disasters. While I used many of the plans and knowledge during wildfires and floods, the pandemic plans and training sat on the shelf and on thumb drives – ready, but not needed.
And then COVID-19 hit.
In the blink of an eye, I shared ground zero at the local level with hospitals and front line health care workers. As we navigated the dark and unknown waters of a completely new emergency, plans didn’t fit. Years of training offered muscle memory, but never had we trained for something this different, this unknown, this global. And nowhere in my plans, training or exercise did I factor in politics, hatred, and so much misinformation. We were overwhelmed.
The first couple months of the pandemic was a blur. Keeping my sanity became as important as keeping track of the dozens of meetings and the new information arriving daily. On the weekend that I could find time to breathe, I’d run to the local desert to clear my head and look for signs of normalcy: the claret cup cacti blooming, ravens flying in the breeze, or the song of the river. I wondered if I’d ever have the time to camp, to hike, to fish, or to just take a full breath in the upcoming summer.
As it turned out, the weekend escapes my husband and I took last summer, albeit short, were some of the best we’ve taken in years. As the rest of the state flocked to the outdoors to distance themselves from crowds, our favorite places were discovered, and we found it necessary to find new haunts. We camped in places we had never visited before . We favored the tent over the RV and hid in places where newcomers to the outdoors and their shiny rigs would never find us. It was peaceful, it was adventurous. And it was life-saving.
Once we found a place to camp, the need for doing nothing made it difficult to try to write about it. Photography was hit and miss, but I did document most excursions. As the weather changed and the days grew shorter, we exchanged the sleeping bags for small hotels. We became very adept at preparing our meals in our hotel room and avoiding all others, while enjoying new sights and new roads.
The arrival of a vaccine for COVID-19 has added a new layer of complexity to my job, but it is one that I welcome. There is a new level of urgency, coupled with a new glimmer of hope.
Short days, cold temperatures and endless work hours hamper the getaways, but day-long escapes are still a tonic for the soul and a necessity for mental stability. I have realized how important it is for me to write about my sojourns, as it is much more stimulating than creating an agenda for yet another Zoom meeting. I hope to reflect back on the adventures I was blessed to experience last summer and write about them in retrospect. In this new age and new year, my thoughts have become much more thoughtful, and my hikes have become much more detailed.
A Happy New Year to all of you. Keep dreaming, keep hoping, keep hiking, keep wondering, keep looking forward.