Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Beacon loop day hike: Casino, Scofield, and Fishkill

We're busting out of the seams to leave NYC.  I get temporary relief from my weekends in the Palisades as weather allows, but Nathan isn't up to those distances anymore after a prolonged time off of running.  So when he found a last minute car rental for $44 per day, we jumped at the chance.

Originally we decided to shoot big - Slide Mountain in the Catskills, though compromising with our route when accounting for winter ice flows in place of hand-over-foot rock ledges.  Definitely did not want to duplicate what we almost got ourselves into last year on Sugarloaf.  We'd take the less aggressive route, and this year we were armed with Microspikes and headlamp and extra down poofy jackets and mega-insulated mittens and....  We'd pick up the car at 8am, get on the trail by 10:30 after driving straight there, and probably be off by about 4pm.

Checking weather the night before made us reconsider.  Wintery mix to start around noon, predictions of 1-4 inches in the towns, unknown how much intensified it would be in exposed areas along the ridge.  Determined to not be completely stupid yet not lose the day, we opted for Beacon, NY.  Just over an hour away, with a deli next to the trail head and the food/pharmacy/shelter of town a 2 minute drive or 5 minute walk away, my familiarity with the area, and actually having the map (kind of an important one in winter, right?).  We'd hopefully be starting our hike at 9:30 and finished by 1:30, with time remaining to hit up antique stores in Beacon and Cold Spring.

Our departure went without a hitch, and with the cold and predicted weather - not that bad, but people here are very, well, sensitive to the slightest hint of inclemency - we had no traffic issues as though it were an early Sunday morning.  We left the car and started at our predicted time, heading up the red Casino Trail as the snow started.  It is steep with a handful of switchbacks, having originated as ski slopes back in the day.  It runs overall in parallel to old, now mangled Mount Beacon Incline Railway that in its day climbed from 200 feet to 1500 feet of elevation to reach a casino (now just a brick set of walls) up on the ridge, hence the trail name.  It's worth it to follow that link and see the pictures of the angled rail cars and the grade of the climb.  In summers I usually would come from Breakneck Ridge to finish going down the Casino Trail, and it is steep enough that it is easier on the knees to jog than it is to hike down. 

Once on the vantage points along the route the wind and snow picked up.  I ended up most of the day in wool 200 weight long underwear quarter zip top and pants and my rain shell and winter hiking pants (kind of a light softshell of sorts), plus a wool beanie and Black Diamond Mercury Mitts since my hands are always the only part of me that does not handle the cold.  We snapped a few photos, but you are limited to few since stopping for more than one or two minutes resulted in a dramatic drop in core temperature.  Means I couldn't take enough time to get the exposure of our "view" to work out, but at least this time I remembered to use the darn thing and my hands would cooperate for at least a minute. 



The red Casino Trail passes close to the crest of South Beacon Mountain, which we skipped in lieu of staying warm for the moment in the temporary protection of a more wooded area.  It then bottoms out at the yellow Wilkinson Memorial trail along Scofield Ridge.  We headed north, and along a series of vantage points had to keep track rather well as to where the trail was supposed to be.  The rock outcroppings capping the ridge are great for summer lunches or naps, but with only bushes and no trees to place trail markings they end up painted onto the rock.  Once the rock is covered by snow, which by now accumulated to about 2 inches with bits of ice beneath, then it gets tricky.  A few are straight forward with large breaks in the bush leading forth.  Others, particularly larger outcroppings, were not so clear what with about 50 feet of open nothingness and a dozen possible trail starts on the other side.  One of us would keep tabs on our last marker, the other would attempt to guess a line according to the map.  The snow at that point was sideways and making the left side of my mouth numb.  Had we not found it within fifteen minutes then we would have opted to turn around and head back along where we knew was marked, even if it meant being out for longer than predicted.

The yellow Wilkinson trail made a few zigs and zags before hitting a short connecting blue trail.  Blue is not the easiest to see on dark tree trunks in winter, but aside from scanning the environment a few times it was easy to follow.  Maybe ten minutes on the blue trail and we found the white Fishkill Ridge.  Blue may be been a little hard to see at times, but white, as you can imagine, was all the more fun.  Many points here had snow four inches deep.  We made our way to the top of Lamb's Hill to another vantage point and outcropping.  This one took a good ten minutes to find on the other side, largely because the trees did not start for a good ways down the other side.  This one made me happy I had an extra wool sweater, vest and down sweater in my pack just in case.  Didn't pull them out, its those moments that hint at the worth of the gear you have or, in some instances, do not have (*cough*cough*Sugarloaf*cough*).

The day continued to be either uphill or downhill.  Rarely was there much in between.  Did I mention how great Microspikes are?  Best.  Invention.  Ever.  We wish we had stock.  Heading down from Lamb's Hill we found a few spots with ice beneath the snow.  Usually we'd stick, even if after a one-inch slide.  At one point Nathan was leading.  He stopped, turned to point out another iffy patch, and barely had he turned forward when his feet went out and he gracefully swept onto his right side.  I started laughing, my usual response to myself or others falling.  Aren't I a great and compassionate wife?  But he kept sliding down, rolling onto his back and then his left while sliding backward, nothing within reach to grab.

A six inch diameter tree was the only thing between him and continuing his slide down off the side of the ridge for who knows how far.  It caught him at the butt, with a good posterior jolt to the trunk and legs.  Once he hit the tree I got serious again, took one step towards him, and before I knew it I too was whisked onto my butt and accelerating downhill with spiked feet headed straight towards Nathan.  I couldn't turn or stop or reorient myself.  Only thing I could muster was to slide with my feet apart in the splits so that the spikes wouldn't kill my new husband who had managed to not go flying off the edge of a ridge.  Apparently I looked like quite the cartoon headed spread eagle towards him.  Nathan may be skinny, but thankfully he isn't fragile.  Otherwise my butt would have crushed his ribs.  Not much else would have saved our fifteen foot slide except full crampons and an ice ax.

Once stopped I was able to roll onto my belly and maintain enough traction to untangle my leg from Nathan's armpit, though I was laughing so hard that I was about to pee myself.  (Even now as I write this, I've been in tears from laughing so hard for the last ten minutes.  The kittens have no idea what to make of me.)  Nathan was concerned for the reality of the little tree and what otherwise would have been a very precarious situation.  Me?  My concern was getting off the iceflow and onto tractionable ground so that I could relieve myself volitionally and tell this story while retaining a milligram of dignity.  Even once safely peeing I was crying from laughing so hard.

The visible track of ice down the trail was the full path we slid.  The tree just to the left of middle was what saved us.
A better view of how much further we may have fallen, with the trail and our locale of fall/catch obscured here by the trees in the panel second from the right.
Regrouped, we made our way along the rest of the white and picked up the small yellow connecting trail that led back to the car.  Mid-yellow was tricky when crossing a forest road.  The tree that had two markers indicating the direction of a turn had been split between the two markers.  One marker was on the remaining stump, the other was twenty feet away on the top half of the tree laying sideways across its neighbors.  For those marking trails, this is where having one or two immediately following the turn is a good thing to confirm the trail and back up your original mark.  Took another ten minutes for this one.

Regrouping from the fall.  (Actually, he just wanted his picture taken sitting on the little bridge.  We were in good spirits.)
Somewhere along the white trail, post-slide.
Just before reconnecting with the base of the original red Casino trail we encountered a woman out hiking on her own.  She wore hiking boots, but she was really slow going on comparatively flat ground.  Another score for our improvement over last year.  By the time we made it back to the rental car we totaled three and a half hours.  The snow and sleet had in the last hour turned to freezing rain and bits of actual rain, so we were happy with our timing.  A little reorganizing while the car warmed up, and into town we went.

Turned out that most places were closed.  Not sure how many of them may be closed on Mondays anyways, but it seemed that many places either stayed closed or closed early due to "inclement" weather.  On the sidewalks and streets everything seemed fine to us, and for the rest of the day we didn't encounter anything hairy, but so goes the NYC-sprawl's reaction to weather.  We managed to find a place with a veggie burger, but no antique stores were open.  We found one that would have been awesome, and through the window saw two old wooden tool boxes that would have been great to organize some of Nathan's fountain pens and smaller items.  Next time, I suppose.

We still hit up Cold Spring, only a few towns away.  Closed, closed, and more closed.  We couldn't think of anything else for which to use the car, so opted to call it a day and return home.  The drive back was wet but not icy, though from the way others were driving you'd have though otherwise.  We were surprised at how empty things felt at 4:30pm, which is usually when rush hour is developing well.  Meant that the whole way home was as eventless as the drive up pre-snow/wintery mix. 


In all, our time on the trail amounted to around 7.5 miles with more than a few thousand feet of cumulative gain, and our time getting to/from the rental agency and through the town of Beacon amounted to another 6.5 miles.  Our route ended up being just a hair different than the suggested South Mount Beacon/Scofield Ridge, the only difference being that we skipped the little crest of South Mount Beacon.  Having all the right gear makes for all the difference between arriving home satisfied with your day and arriving home thankful to be alive. 

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

January update

January was, as always, an iffy month.  Fluctuating winter doldrums from missing my Sunday mornings on the trails and waking up to continued darkness each morning.  Slacking mental capacities thanks to years of scholastic winter breaks conditioning me to be a meat head for a month.  Heavy caseloads at work, where each time I sit to write notes during lunch or at the end of the day I end up staring at the screen for ten minutes while my body's alternator tries to jump start my brain.  (Insert co-workers: "Staring at it won't make it come easier."  Also, orthopedic and other scheduled surgeries come to a lull depending on time of year and various holidays.  Oncology units, on the other hand, never take breaks, especially non-surgical and thus more medically acute patients.  And with their fluctuating mental status and needs for assistance x2 people for basic mobility, your days become filled with lots of and lots of squats.  When you lay in bed and try to get comfortable - that is when you find out if you had good body mechanics or not.) 

Between those moments were, thankfully, plenty of anti-January things.

Getting the ever present kitteh things out of the way, Merus's last visit to the vet that yielded more extractions has been an absolute dream ever since.  I pushed for an x-ray, and we finally found the root of the problem (pun not intended).  She is now just over 3 weeks post-op, meaning the long acting pain shot has worn off and we are now left with the evidence of whether it worked or not - and it has.  She yawns with her mouth wide open instead of stifled half way, she has no qualms over food textures, she and her sister get along as siblings should (snuggling at times and an even distribution of who initiates play fights).

The teeth:

 
Nathan now calls her Snaggle Tooth.  

And at some point this happened:




Sadie has taken to jumping to the tops of doors:

 
Bad Cat is in bad need of a cat jungle gym, but we're not going to pay for something like that, especially when it would take up half of our measly living room.  We've had the fortune of watching her miss a few times.  At this point I no longer help her down in hopes that she realizes the predicament she creates.  (I am pretending that cats have object permanence and that Sadie actually has a conscience.  Highly unlikely, but whatever.)

Moving along, I got a haircut.  The only picture I have at this point is from my phone, hence the blur:



The first three episodes of Northern Exposure came through Nathan's store, so he snatched them up.  Always nice to have non-cat entertainment in the evenings to make us feel more like normal people and less like crazy cat people.

We've discovered Rummikub thanks to Molly and Brian, who joined us for Christmas Eve dinner and have had us over a few times now for game nights mixed with football nights.  Brian is also a Patriots fan, so we're going to play more Rummikub while watching the Superbowl since all our teams and our backup teams are done. 

While I've been stuck on the roads for a while on my Sunday runs, the cold temperatures (especially this last week) mean the few others I encounter along the way are out there for similar reasons.  It's so nice to exchange genuine smiles and greetings with others in the community.  That's part of what makes the Palisades so dear to my heart.

Nathan also came across a slew of cds at work.  The most notable has been Tom Lehrer.  I didn't know what to make of him at first, but then I learned he taught mathematics and we heard his more nerdy and/or politically sly songs.  Here are two nerdy gems that are also re-posted by others on YouTube:



Lastly, we took the opportunity yesterday to go on a winter day hike.  A forecast of mixed precipitation meant downgrading from the Catskills to the Hudson Highlands, though we still had a wonderful time.  Even with a double slide out.  That story, though, will be for another post coming shortly.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Two blunders to kick things off right

For John the Vicar's New Year's Eve celebration I made my Guinness stout gingerbread.  Baking it starts out as a fun science adventure.  The baking soda will hugely react with the Guinness - or is it with the molasses?  Or both?  Either way, you gotta get it to react fully and completely in a pot before making the rest of the gingerbread.  Otherwise it will boil over while baking in the oven.

To do so, bring the Guinness and blackstrap molasses to a boil in a very large pot.  Then, while stirringstirringstirring, add in 1/2 tablespoon of baking soda.  It will froth up like you've never seen, and you gotta keep stirring to break the bubbles so it doesn't go over.  Hence using a very large pot. 

Now, I often eyeball ingredients and it usually is not a problem.  Rather than suffer the tedium of measuring three 1/2 teaspoons in order to achieve 1/2 tablespoon, I instead grabbed the full tablespoon and eye-balled what looked as half way.  And luckily I thought it would be fun to get the process on video....


Did you know I'm a genius?  Because I am.  My doctorate degree says so.  *Cough* *Clear throat* *Cough-loser-cough*  Luckily, as though more luck were possible in this situation, since the bulk of it was carbohydrate it cleaned up really easy with a little hot water and soap. 

Now for the more serious stuff.  I pulled up last year's similarly veined post to compare to 2011 stats and found, in true form, that last year's post describing 2011 data was instead labeled as 2012 in nice big bold print in the title. 

Awesome sauce.  Typo now fixed, one year later.

Anyways, things definitely bumped up a notch in the real 2012.  Many months my walking mileage was about the same or higher than my running mileage from '11. 


I like that my two week off season and the start of winter maintenance mileage is evident by the decrease in last year's November and December values. 

Blue = 2011 run.  Red = 2012 run.  Green = 2012 walk.
2011 running total: 1583 miles
2012 running total: 1770 miles

2011 walking total: 535 miles  *only recorded for 1/2 year
2012 walking total: 1605 miles

2012 grand total: 3375 miles

That's about the distance from Los Angeles to Maine.  I'll take that.  Better news with which to start the new year than a couple of blunders.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Frog kick

That's all Merus could do last night after a visit to the vet for recurrence of symptoms yielded five more extractions, this time for the back two mandibular molars on each side and one canine.  During the month off from the vet I was able to increase her weight from 6.8 pounds up to 7.3 pounds, so she tolerated the surgery well.  Dr. P called her "a strong little kitty." 

This time I not so subtly reminded Dr. P that no one had taken x-rays to look into things further, because looking in her mouth reveled infections but we always ended up back at the vet a month later.  If you have every seen a human dental xray of an abscessed tooth, where the white tooth has a dark and hazy splotch where the roots fit in, this was very similar.  Once pulled apparently there was quite a foul smell, as is wont for infections.  And, she very likely has stomatitis in the gums behind the original, rear-most tooth bed.

In hindsight, our original vet who performed June's maxillary extractions had noted an "itty bitty" dot of gum involvement on one of the mandibular back teeth that would likely clear up with the antibiotics so she left it alone.  Thinking back, I want to believe that it was simply missed or that it was subtle enough in the mandibular teeth that its significance was misinterpreted.  But I also wonder if they capped the surgery at those seven maxillary teeth because they had already surpassed the payment estimate of "as many as six" teeth.  But I'm not going to worry about that now.

Instead, I'm going to worry about the wobbly legged, operetta chirping, voracious mini monster that comes with newfound pain relief.  Last night when we got home she had no use of her legs since the anesthesia was still wearing off.  But that did not stop her from trying.  This is all she had: 



Nathan and I were in absolute stitches for the first few minutes from her little dainty-paw air wafts.  Then it became a little sad when she just wouldn't stop.  Five minutes later and she'd make it a couple feet farther from somehow righting herself enough to plop over onto her other side but make it forward a smidge.  I kept trying to make a soft, welcoming spot on the floor so she wouldn't, say, fall off the bed when we weren't looking.  Kitty bed by the radiator, kitty bed tucked under a chair, towels folded up, towels spread out since ten minutes later she kept righting and falling, righting and falling.

Once assured that she was on the ground but away from unstable objects I turned my attention to putting away a few groceries, then turned around to find her fore legs on the lip of the litter box, hind legs frog splayed and wafting away on the floor.  So I gave a little hind leg lift, helped her climb inside.  Luckily this was the clean litter box since with whole pine chunks, for those who don't know, they always leave one unused while absolutely destroying the other, and I was worried of her face planting into and aspirating used litter.  She landed frog splayed again, unsuccessfully tried a few times to change position and got perfectly still.  Heard only one tinkle, which means the pee did not have far to fall.  Sure enough, thirty seconds later she was calm when picked up and had pee all over her frog splayed parts.  

As I clean her off with the washcloth I realize just how similar this is to working with patients in acute care, be it medication fog or difficulty with getting to the bathroom physically or something like dementia with fluctuating incontinence.  Pump them full with IV fluids and you've got a mismatched continence challenge.  Except this time I facilitated the continence of my cat.  And through all that she managed to not go anywhere else except the litter box.  Attaboy, girl.

This morning she can jump onto the counter and make it a majority of the time after a momentary foreleg mantle.  And she is voracious.  She even took a lick of my coffee in desperation while I prepared her food as fast as I could.  Not a suitable option, in her opinion.  Chirping and wagging and giving her sister hell.  Nice to have that back.

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

The year in recap

One of my closest friends and her boyfriend are holding an intimate New Year's brunch gathering today, which Nathan and I will attend.  Boyfriend will undoubtedly ask each of us to spontaneously reflect on our best and worst moments of 2012.  I always know that moment is coming, and I always dread it.  Boyfriend doesn't wait for the serious and philosophical tone that develops during the latter part of a meal.  He catches everyone off guard, non sequitur, unveiled after you've just sat down to eat or after telling a funny story.  When you balk, he will rephrase as "What was your highest high and your lowest low?"  And even though you haven't really broken the ice for that gathering yet, having only made jokes about how lousy the Jets are this year, he will eagerly await you to spill your guts.

I agree that time has a way of diminishing the magnitude of life events so that they are much better appreciated when recounted en mass at transitional times like this, but Boyfriend insists that you also describe your worst moment.  Gee.  Thanks.  Dude.  I was trying to allow a mental block to form around those memories so that I could move on without my head dragging so low.  But hey, sure, why not reignite them out loud and in front of people who I may not consider appropriate?  Whatever.  He did it at the close of multiple semesters as well as at the completion of grad school.  He does it for your birthday.  He’s bound to do it tomorrow morning.

So this year I've decided to prepare myself by accumulating a list of accomplishments and experiences from 2012.  When he asks for my lowest low, I will think of this list, smile, and politely tell him to shove it. 

Running:

Finished two 50 mile trail races, the second of which bested my previous time while included 4,000 more feet of elevation gain on ski slopes and huge visceral stomach cramps.  Those days were over 10 hours spent in the woods, wherein I learned why I run, why I like distances, why I am pulled to the trail.  I am not religious in any conventional sense, yet this is by far one of the closest things to it.  Putting yourself so completely on the line is, for myself and others like me, how we reconcile our mortal interactions with a decidedly not well understood universe.

Managed three benchmarks in respect to road races.  1) I managed to break time barriers I had never thought possible for myself, beating 1:30 for a half marathon and 3:15 for a marathon.  2) I actually won a race.  Purely circumstantial, since it was in no small part due to an absence of true speedy elite women and it was one of the slowest years they’ve had on record, but I’ll take it.  3) I qualified for Boston.  You have no idea how impossible that seemed five years ago when I took another break from running due to not doing things right (i.e. running too many days per week, prior to learning how to run like a proper old person).

Professional:

Finished graduate school.  Passed the boards on my first try.  Got a job at one of NYC’s premier hospitals.  Most newbies do not begin working weekends until they pass their probationary period, which is six months.  Less than two months in, I took over Saturdays as the person in charge of acute care.  Meaning I’m the boss.  Scary. 

I have completed sub-rotations in orthopedics and medicine (i.e. alcohol withdrawal and renal failure), learning a lot about pain and the complexities or comorbidities.  Currently I am working oncology, where providing quality of life and discharge planning are redefined every day.  (Not an easy setting for me, but that is a much more serious discussion for a different day.)  I am eagerly awaiting neurology, where you really figure out how to be a PT, much like my last school affiliation in brain injury rehab.

Life:

Got married.  And each day I feel even more happy about it than the day before.  Things didn’t really change that much, considering we were already living together and had already sketched a loose future plan together.  Yet they did change, in an abstract way.  Still getting used to the term “wife,” and still getting used to getting letters and packages addressed to “Mr. and Mrs. [insert husband’s full name]” despite my adamancy of hyphenating my last name.  Heck, I’m also getting used to the idea of “Mrs.” in the first place.  Right after it happened, a work colleague started greeting me as Mrs., and I kept correcting her “It’s Ms.!!”  Her argument is that “Ms.” imparts that you are mean while “Mrs.” is reserved for those who are nice.  I’m flattered, but I don’t know if I’m ready to accept that title yet.

Cleaning up my eating habits.  We've dramatically cut down on the amount of meat and dairy, initiating out of exploration for possible food allergies for Nathan's sake, and we have ended up liking the change.  I was vegetarian for a while during college, though much like distance running I did it completely wrong and thus found it inadequate.  At this point we are definitely vegetarian, most of the time even vegan.  I know, icky term, but I'd call it only 95% because we are realistic about how to interact with others.  I’m not going to waste food that was made for me, like when a friend made a big dinner that included little chicken burritos with a special salsa in them that they really wanted me to try.  I’m not going to force it onto others, like when Nathan and I visited his grandparents and made them a vegetable lasagna so they’d have leftovers but used real mozzarella and ricotta.  (Which, we only now tried vegan “cheese” for the first time, and I’d rather make my own substitute or go without it from here one out.  And no, I have never tried tofurkey nor do I ever plant to try it, because eating a “meaty” thing that is not meat is just plain weird.)  My brother was nice enough to buy us an outing at Toast, our local burger joint that makes the BEST burgers in the world, and when we go I will very likely have an Alpine Burger that has swiss cheese and portobello mushroom on an English muffin, and it will be cooked rare or medium rare.  Oh, and when Grandma mails you cookies or Mom sends you chocolates, you eat them.  No ifs, ands or buts.  Preferably the entire quantity is eaten within one or two days.  It's the law, people.  Don't question it.

This year has been brought to you in part by:

Almond butter
American Pickers and Antiques Road Show
Andrew Bird
Aquafor
Avocado 
Bedtime at 9 p.m.
Bruised toenails
Clif Bars
Coffee
Ebay
Falling while running
The George Washington Bridge
Green medical scrubs
The Long Path
Kale 
The King's Speech
Lincoln
Mumford & Sons
The Palisades road, a.k.a. Henry Hudson Drive
Parks and Recreation
A Prairie Home Companion
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups
Shearwater
Snot rockets 
SpiderDolphinRabbitSealWorms
The Talking Heads, Remain In Light
Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me
Winesap apples
Your local veterinarian
Vicars

And viewer support from people like you.