In Praise of Youth

Note:  I've been letting this site drag a bit.  I have never been good at journals, though I have been writing.  I'll try and post most of the stuff here, if only so that I can see it all collected in one place.

This is a piece that I did for the weekly HURT training post.

In Praise of Youth

I slogged the western hills this past week-end for the first time in weeks. Injury has had a hold on me, and I have been plagued by aches and pains and was reluctant to go out because there is nowhere on this island where a runner can meet with weakness more directly than on the edgy cliffs and slopes of the northern Waianae range. Unfortunately for us all, Gordon has developed a penchant for the edge, and much of his selected route for the up coming 100K is steeply up, or, for me at least, ever more steeply down.

I found myself running with old friends; Bob McAlester and Rex Vlcek, and it struck me somewhere along the cross-over while pushing to keep up, that I was the newbie. Both Bob and Rex have been around HURT for very long times, and have scores of races and unnumbered volunteer venues to their credit. I've been running with, against, and with the assistance of each of them for as long as I have been on HURT trails.

When running with old buddies it is not uncommon that the chatter will dwell for a time on injuries, healing, rehab, and hopes for the future. We have all been injured, missed months of training, and come back after hard fought mending of our bodies. It's a constant effort. This Ultra stuff is physically demanding and takes a toll on older bodies, but the hard fact is that the mental toughness so necessary for ultra running is not something that is learned well among the younger crowd. Ultra running poses the conundrum of benefiting from age's mental toughness, while punishing age's physical weaknesses; a destructive and somewhat masochistic brew.

Proof of such is easily verified, for if you have been an ultra runner for any length of time you can count at least a few faces that are no longer with you when you hit the trails. And as you get farther along you are bound to miss a few good friends. Of course, some, Rex, Bob, and I among them, have been fortunate to reappear on the trails and push on for a while longer. But there are those who never come back out, or who never seem to make it back onto the trails for any length of time, and who fade from the pantheon of Regulars.

Runners often rue these departures with 'group-hug' levels of sadness, and though individually one may honestly rue the loss of a good running buddy, on the group emotional level the feelings often seem a bit more coarse, and often have a perverse attitudinal inflection that attributes someone's lasting injury to weakness, or worse, failure of will. Perhaps it makes it easier on the tribal mind if fallen breatheren leave us through the subtle accusation of a lack of determination to strive, rather than the more truthful facts of their physical breakdown.

The deception not only allows surviving runners to avoid the truth of injury but also permits survivors to assume the unmerited mantle of toughness, while at the same time humbly laying claim to having more of 'what it takes', all the while avoiding the cruel fact that little more than fortune and blind luck are the primary factors deciding runner's futures. Such myth is a product of the cultural organism and is fabricated to promote its survival as it comes to understand that truth, the antitheses of myth, is no friend of cultural existence. We communally delude ourselves because it is the only way we can continue to rationalize our own self destructiveness.

The weakness that causes us to demonize injury and mythologize simple luck, also runs amok in our attitudes toward aging. The mantra is that we are as perpetually young as we choose to be, that we reach our goals through good training and mental strength, and that given enough training and will power we will continue to be high achievers far out toward the event horizon. Good training is the salve that cures all ills. If one falters, applying more good training will mend the problem.

The fact that we are all navigating sinking ships is rarely honestly addressed. Instead we aggrandize the most foolish or physically adept, or both, and heap praises on those who possesses the most fleeting of qualities; speed. True, on any given day, speed is the easiest identifier of success. But a static measure makes little sense from the point of view of the individual human body since speed is destined to decline quickly over time. None-the-less as a group we are fixated on time, on bettering our own times, and on always using time as the intrinsic marker of success. Unfortunately time has a back side, and all of us are constantly facing that too, as blind to it as we may choose to be. In our unwillingness or inability to face one problem, declining times caused by aging, we create another problem, severe injury caused by the self deluded belief that we are just as fast and capable as we once were. We are not, and failure to realize you are getting older will ultimately ruin your running day.

As you may have guessed by this point, I have little to say in praise of youth. Quite frankly I'm ambivalent with regard to those who may lay claim to experiencing that period in their present lives. I neither praise nor disparage them. But the idea that older men and women can reclaim or hold on to youth is an absurdity that is, in my opinion, very destructive. That it is an entrenched aspect of our running culture makes it even more so.

So the next time you hit a section that you used to romp up or down, take heed. Things have changed since the last time you ventured out and it may pay to listen to your body just a bit more and a little less to the joyful 'I am always young!' voice of your soul. The truth is that your soul is a self deluding butterfly, while your body is fixed in the reality of this world; the very place where the trails run toward the horizon. If you wish that story book run into the sunset then you best listen to what will get you there.

Run Long, Run Hard, but not necessarily fast........ Aloha, Mikem ;)

Running with Friends.

It is often hard, when you get into the training mode to remember that one of the best things about 'running' the trails is the chance to spend time with good friends. Conversation out there in the midst of the rain forest often progresses at a relaxed pace and as the trail permits. This often means that people have time to think and reflect before responding. It means better and deeper communication than one might obtain over a cup of coffee or amidst the gang at the start line of a race.

But like I said you have to weigh the costs of communication against the costs of training. Old friends, and in my case that has come to mean the upper echelon of the HURT gang, are often less likely to be 'on pace' as you head up the Hogback and somewhere along Roots and Rocks you may have to make a decision: Am I training hard, or am I running with a good friend? As one who habitually takes the back of the pack position on race day it is hard for me to do the switch. Others, like Fish, have developed a truly benevolent character, and do it regularly. But the point is that often training with friends requires some decision making.
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Cheryl Shows No Mercy

I'd had this run with Cheryl scheduled, and postponed for a week. So I was going out on Tuesday despite the Monday run. My hanai nephew David was in town and needed to hit the trails two so I figured it would be a good time to take him out too.

Well, I wanted to run Hogsback, figuring I'd stay with Cheryl the rest of the way. So, I split fast after crossing the Nature Center bridge, and left Cheryl tying her shoe....ultra runners show no mercy. I pushed up Hogsback, breathing hard, feeling yesterdays 20 and trying to make something of the attempt. David was lingering behind me and I knew he was just waiting to pounce. Young Punks, you can always tell what they are up to. The trick it to wear 'em out or out fox 'em. 15+ minutes up Hogsback makes either a bit of a challenge with somebody who has done HURT loops, Ultra wierdness, and organized mayhem. But I was into trying to leave David sucking air. I tried all the standard tricks, running where nobody should run, striding up the steepest steeps, skipping over the roots, and even reverse psychology like breathing hard and gagging when it wasn't necessary. I couldn't shake him. Finally, after waiting to the last fifty yards, I just started sprinting. The Punk was just too aware, and he passed me five yards from the top. Hey, he's my nephew, so I didn't kick his ass for the insult. 'Goo Jaw Brahhh' I gasped at the top, meaning every word. My onlysatisfaction is that it was a 17 and much slower than yesterdays 15.
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Running Everyday

I've been out on the trails everyday now for the past two weeks. I'm getting in about 5 to 9 miles per day. Mostly HURT trails, the first section of up Hogsback, Crossover, up Makiki Valley to Nahuina, and then up Concretes. I come back which ever way seems to suit me at the time. That includes a retrace, down the back and east or west along Manoa Cliffs, and up and down the Makai slice of Pu'uohia trail back to the road. Today I went out and did a midday Round Top, cross-over and home. Good Psudo-Peacock training.

I was out of commission for a while, and this daily two hours seems to be helping me get back into it. But I got to admit that it is a slow recovery, and it does not look like I am going to be able to do the '61 days of HURT' for my 61st birthday. I don't know if that will ever be a reality. But in its stead I am working doing a highly scaled back 61st observance. It will be a bit of Whimp I must admit, but it is something. I'm going to do a 100K run each month (61+miles) over the course of the year. This will be a bit more manageable. In conjunction with this I plan to volunteer at the hospice either 6 hours a week or perhaps as much as 61 hours a month. I have to think about the logistics on that one. But I will be volunteering considerably more than I have been over the past years. I'm more effective as a volunteer than a contribution magnet.
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Elbows is Gone

Stole this poem from the HURT site.




Elbows Is Gone




Elbows is gone!
She lays lonely
down the gritty black slope.
The tree missing an arm
Looks lopsided,
Forlorn.
No longer intimidating;
Lost perhaps.
Its purpose shorn.

One more dread
Disappears
As Ahuilama is
Slowly tamed.

There was that rooty
Always wet section
With more technical ground
Than most 100’s.
They cut all the trees
It dried out and became easy.
I still breath
a sigh of relief.
Fell there five times
loop three in 2005.

They chopped
The spider webs in
The tangles
Of the river of roots
Down near the Banyans.
Went down hard there once
And the dread still rises
like bile to the back of my throat.
Almost runable now.

Huffer cleared out
That nasty bit
Of roots and rocks just below concrete posts.
Years back now.
I slipped there once.
My body still whines
Even as I skip down
The easy steps.

Saw a man in a leg cast
Trying to get up
Manoa Falls Trail today
“You know I’d think about this,”
I cautioned.
He ignored me,
moved slowly along on crutches.
Will complain when he breaks
The other leg,
Demanding more gravel,
a bull dozer perhaps.
Visitor safety is imperative!!
Morons making rules.

Do we need to schedule a
Trail unimprovement day?
Work back toward more
Trail personality?

I’d say I’m just getting old
But that makes no sense.
The black hole
Of the Trails
Has consumed me,
Spit me out.
I wander paths that are
Inverted mirror images
Of my shadowy memories.

But they cut down Elbows!
Elbows who let me
Flirt with danger
A couple times a loop
What is there to fear now high up
On this mundane Ahuilama?

And Elbows,
She lies there down the slope
As lost and forlorn
As I feel staring down at her.


Kalapu Ulavale

Makapu'u!! Home again.

Down below the Makapu'u road, there is a path that leads to th stone formation and the small bay to the right

It was with great satisfaction and relief that I met Don for a few ups at Makapu'u head. The entire process of getting ready, the drive out, and the transition to the eastern end of the island was a great pleasure for me. I got there on time and was surprised to find that Don wasn't there yet. So after sitting around for a bit, I made my way up the road, keeping my eye on the curve in the road at the bottom of the ridge, and looking for Don's car.

It was blowing a bit, threatening to rain, and I found myself kind of hiding in the lee of the Keawe that grows along the road. There is a path that leads out to the small bay and remnants of fishponds that offered some shelter. Finally I spotted Don's car, and waited until it made the turn into the parking area. As it headed down toward the parking I began a 'great striding' down the road and into the parking area. I don't know how much of this act Don caught, it didn't much matter, actually. In the end it appeared that I had just finished an 'up'. It was a long and complicated production for such a small joke. But you never know.

After a good greeting we managed to do a couple of good loops. It was good to get together and to talk. Don about his trip to the northwest and Glacier, and me about the high desert and the Rocky Raccoon.

It was windy and kind of chilly, but it was good to back in Hawaii no matter what the weather!

Baylor Pass Trail

Baylor Pass Trail

The Baylor Pass Trail goes over the Organ Mountains through the Baylor Pass. You find the western Trail head a ways out of Las Cruses off the road to White Sands. The trail head itself is a lot like the rest of the western slopes of this mountain range and not much different than the area I ran in the Dry Rock Ridge run. The trail heads kind of northwest into the hills skirting the low ridges and winding into the main valley that ultimately becomes the entrance to the Pass.

Janet and I did the trail, and Wayne took the truck around to Aguirre Springs to pick us up. It was a pleasant hike. I could have run a bit, but Janet and I were talking occasionally and it didn't seem to be worthwhile to run off in pursuit of that ephemeral quality of 'fitness' that runners are so often chasing. We moved on, taking in the sights, stopping occasionally, and enjoying the trail. We passed a couple of couples near the crest, but the trail was pretty much ours for most of the hike.

We got over the ridge and the eastern slopes were more lush, in that New Mexican kind of way. and we were not far from the Pine Tree trail, that I had done on one of my first days in Las Cruses. I can understand why Wayne likes that area. I would enjoy going back there again. Maybe doing a Baylor Pass-Pine Tree-return; or some such ridiculousness.

I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Pictures

Corralitos Road Run

Corralitos Road ' Not Quite Half-Marathon' Run

High on the flat mesa in the far distance is my goal, a white radar dome.

I'm not sure why I decided this was going to be a fun run, but when Wayne and I drove out here the day after my arrival in Las Cruses I became intrigued with running this stretch of highway. Actually I was interested in running the mountains in the distance, which is where the road before us in the picture above leads. However in order to make this a 'reasonable' run I had to include a good section of rolling desert road into the mix. Eight or Nine miles of it to be more precise.

When I first mentioned it, Janet had said she was going to come along and ride her bike. Wayne had brought a pistol along and he goes shooting off in a arroyo behind where I took this picture.
On the appointed day the weather was nasty in a Hawaii kind of way, and kind of nice in a Las Cruses frame of mind. It was cold and windy. But it was sunny as you can see. Janet decided she had better things to do. Wayne looked at me and laughed. I dressed in my cold weather gear and prepared for the worst.

When I first got started it was bitter cold. My hands were freezing, the wind was slipping into my clothing, and I was tight and in a nasty mood. I got to the top of the rise where I took the first picture and just swore and shook my head. There was no turning back really, I'd made a bit of a thing about running the road, so I just moved on, working out the tightness and putting up with the cold. In time my own body heat began to warm me, and I actually got into a bit of a pace.

I was reminded of a couple of Twilight Zone episodes as I jogged down the road. The first was the one where the guys stole the gold in 1960 and through some scientific trick managed to go into suspended animation for fifty or a hundred years. When they woke up they killed one another until only one guy was left, and he stumbled down a road like the one I was on, grasping a few bars of gold. A car eventually came by, and the guy tried to trade the gold for a drink of water. Then he died. The people in the car marveled that anyone would be so nuts as to carry around gold, which they were producing plentifully from sea water, or some such inanity.

Well the future was nothing like the episode, and gold is still tradeable for water. And the car those people were driving still hasn't been created. But wandering alone down that road with not another person in sight can be just as unsettling. The cold wind would shift occasionally, blowing directly into my face, and backing off to the north a bit. I saw a jack rabbit or two, there was a big red tail hawk that was soaring above me for a while, and some small birds, but mostly the critters were holed up some where, out of the wind and cold; only mad dogs and ultra runners, as the saying goes. Pictures

The farther down the road I ran, the longer it seemed I had to go to reach the distant mountains. The rolling desert has a way of unfolding before you, each time revealing a bit more of endless supply of miles of bleak road it hoards like gold. The only change was that the tiny speck of white that was the radar tower seemed to grow ever so slightly, and after an hour or so it had gone from the size of a grain of sand to pin prick. I took heart in that and moved down the road still not knowing how much road the desert had in store for me.

There are havalina out on these lonely rolling hills. Wayne and I had seen a sow and her young the first time out, and on this run I saw some hunters carrying one out of the range to the left of the road. They look like pigs, but are actually rodents, much like Kapibarra. They must be tough if they can survive out on the winter desert range, and eat those prickly pear cactus with the two inch thorns.

Aside from the hunters and some other trucks I didn't see much out there. I got a picture of a 'Watch out for Water' sign, which I felt was interesting given how dry it was out there. But Wayne assured me that when the rains come the water just 'sheets' over the coleche soil and runs like an sob. Some of the arroyo's showed evidence of that, and even the drainage ditches along the side of the road were often dug very deep by erosion. Out here there either is not enough water or just too much. The trick is keeping it around for a while. The counties dig and maintain retention dams and the roads that run out to them. They are the reason that cattle can survive out here.

As I got closer to the hills I began to run into more cattle. Higher up, even just a few hundred feet there seems to be a bit more grazing for the poor beasts and they congregate around the water pools and dry grasses. Every once in a while you see a cow with a bit of old longhorn in it an it is sporting a wide set of horns. Impressive. The cows were much like other runners at most of the ultra runs I do. They stared at me wide eyed and when I spoke to them they got really spooked and ran away. At least I know its an inter species kind of thing, an should take no real offense.

Anyway I finally reached the bottom of the hills, which are really low mountains. They were actually fairly steep and going up them was a challenge. I was quite surprised by how far I could see as I made it toward the top of the first of them. It was there that I recalled the second Twilight Zone, the one where the three astronauts crash land and think they are on some asteroid. Once again they have problems, and one guy kills his buddies to get all the water. He then comes over a rise and looks out on a scene cut by telephone lines. Information is neither good, nor bad, but you can get yourself into a real jam if you don't interpret it correctly.

There were two steep climbs and at the top of the second one I expected to be able to make my way up to the top of the mesa where the radar tower is. But it didn't work out that way. When I got to the road there was a gate with a bunch of signs on it telling me I could be thrown in jail or killed if the government felt I was a big enough threat. I really wanted to climb that hill, I had been thinking about it for hours, but I had seen an FAA pickup pass me so I knew there was somebody up there, and it was only a training run. I took a few pictures of the gate to prove I had a reason to stop and headed back to where Wayne was looking for arrow heads.

I forget what time I had told Wayne I would do the run in. I beat that, but it was nothing to brag about. I was just a run to keep me fit, and to see a bit of the land in that slow kind of way that runners enjoy.

Agurrie Springs and Pine Tree Trail.

The Pine Tree Trail at Agurrie Springs

Looking Northwest at the 'Rabbit Ears' along the Pine Tree Trail.

Wayne and I went over to Aguirre Springs for the afternoon. I needed to get out and do a hike, and he wanted to take some pictures of a particular tree that he has been photographing over the past year. The springs is over on the eastern side of the Organ Mountains and just above the White Sands Testing Grounds. It is a beautiful place with lots of pinion pine and an abundance of wildlife. Wayne mentioned that they took a number of male mountain lions out of the area, and talked about the host of snakes that one can run into in warmer weather. I've smelt mountain lion marking before, and one can not miss it if you pass by.

It was a beautiful day, as you can see from the pictures. I did a fast walk up the hill and jogged down at a good pace. The loop is just over four miles. It was a nice hike. Click here for more pictures: More Pictures

A Walk Along the Rio Grande

A Walk Along the Rio Grande.

East bank of the Rio Grande looking South.

Looking South, Wayne and Janet live off the river at the bottom of the bend.

The Organ Mountains in the distance.

Looking North along the East Bank of the Rio Grand.

I took a walk along the Rio Grande near Wayne's House. It is a flat area with a profusion of low growing cottonwoods. There are some horse trails that meander along the banks of the river and I followed them for about a mile or two. I just wandered, and made my way out onto the river bed occasionally. Even at its most narrow points the river was never very deep. More of a large stream than a river really, but even this much flowing water is considered remarkable at this time of year. It was cold and windy, but not unpleasant. I saw traces of beavers. I spotted a Jack Rabbit, lots of doves, and a red tailed hawk. I ran across a pile of feathers where the hawk had caught a dove. Poor dove has to be more feathers than meat, given the broad area of white fluff.

Wandering down the horse trails along the river I occasionally felt a part of the long past traffic that moved up and down the river as it made its way north and south toward Messila, the old town to the south of Las Cruces.

White Sands National Park

A Trip to White Sands National Park

On the Dunes, looking to the east.

Wind patterns in the sand dune

Wayne and Lisa


Seed pods and dormant grasses.

Miles of Dunes.

I've visited White Sands National Park three times over the last 10 years or so. The other two times were in the spring and fall when the weather was a bit warmer and I was lucky enough to be there on sunny days. This time it was cold, windy, and pretty gray. Bleak is a word that comes to mind. It was unfortunate as Lisa, one of Wayne's turtle research buddies, had never been there before. We did our best to see the sites but it was a bit hard as the stunning views were reduced, and the tremendous contrasts of foliage and flowers against the white sands was absent. I also think another reason was that we had all had a bit to drink on Saturday, at Wayne's party and we just were not into a lot of exercise.

I had hoped to run here, but it just didn't work out. Its a bit far from Las Cruses, and the winds and cold weather where just enough to keep me from insisting on spending a day moving over these dunes.

Petroglyphs

Petroglyphs

HIgh Mesa Drive

Drive up High Mesa

Out the Hard Highway....

On the Road Again....

1. Looking back along Kalaniana'ole toward Diamond Head

2. Up the Lighthouse Road.

Its been a while since I was on the roads, or at least it seems that way. I did do that 40 up the Haleakela a few weeks ago, but that was mostly uphill and it isn't the same as running along Kalanianeole out toward Hawaii Kai. Lots more concrete and the ground is almost flat at 10 feet above sea level.

I left the house at about 6:15 headed for Makapu'u, walking fast and listening to my body complain about the time and place. It was slow, as my time checks were putting me farther and farther behind the paces I have set previously over the same ground. But its been a while and I was not interested in 'sprinting' out the starting gate. But I hit the top of the hill in Kaimuki along Waialae Avenue and I was 20 minutes behind my one-hour pace marker. I started pushing a bit figuring I could make up some ground along the bottom of Waialae and out onto Kalanianeole. I did, and for the first few miles of the road toward Hawaii Kai I was making an impressive pace. I looked at my watch and realized that I could be into Hawaii Kai under 2 hours if I kept up the pace.

But things have a way of changing fast and moving slow. I started to notice that the fast jog was starting to remind me of problems I used to have when I was running this stretch with Don when he was getting ready for Bad Water. My knee was hurting, and I was beginning to feel that nagging ache in my right hip. My piriformus was muttering nasty things and my left foot was starting to pick up some pain in the ball of my big toe. I backed off a bit, changed the pace, walked, ran some more, and continued to vary it as much as I felt I needed. But it was all over as far as the running was concerned and I knew I was going to have to walk long and steady to pace myself out of the spasms that had set in on me.

The two hours into Hawaii Kai evaporated. I was at the Lunalilo Home Road turn by 2:30 or so. I pushed on and was shaking my head as I remembered that I had often been to the top of the hill by this time on other occasions. Somewhere down near the Fire Station Don passed me in his car. I figured he'd pull over and give me a lift. I was looking for one! But instead he said something inane like 'I'll meet you at the Park!" and sped off. The park was over a mile away. I adjusted my pace and pushed on. 15 minutes later I rounded the corner at the light and saw Don coming down the hill. We greeted, discussed the plan, and decided to head over to Makapu'u. He was parked in the school yard and I was not comfortable with that. He is a presentable kind of guy, but I figured I'd be picked up for sure if I was caught hanging out near an elementary school. Better to just move the car and run somewhere else.

We headed over to Makapu'u and did some repeats. It was an overcast day, with calm seas. The first time up we didn't spot any whales, and a lady we met remarked that she never saw whales on calm days. The next time up and down we saw a half dozen whales. They must have been waiting for that woman to leave the hill.

So in the end I did about 12 miles for the day. I felt pretty good. The pains from the hard highway ebbed and my legs snapped back well. It was what I was hoping for.

A Couple of Makapu'u Repeats

Makapu'u Point

As late as the 1790's Makapu'u point displayed the likeness of the godess Makapu'u along the cliffs at its head. This was a many eyed godess, some say as many as five rounded eyes projected from her forhead. It was the godess makapu'u who welcomed those sailing out of the windward isles as they made the landfall of Oahu. Depending on the weather, and the time of day her greeting may be good or evil. That the godess was never regarded as particularly benificent says much to how the Hawaiians viewed their transit across the channel and final or first glimpse of the island.


Don and I did a couple of Makapu'u repeats today. It was at a fast walking pace and I held up pretty well. My feet are OK and my knees seem to be healing quite well. I will be ready to get back into a trail run in a few days. This is good news as it speaks well for a good run in a few weeks time. I might get bored by then, how knows. Don and I are starting to talk about a 100 in September in Arkansas. That would be fun. He is from there and it would be nice to make the trip with him. Time will tell.

Doing is easier than Saying

Just ask Harald. You see something, give your honest opinion and find that nobody wants to hear it. Just ask me. You read something, try a constructive comment and you find yourself in the same boat. Well Harald and I just decided to DO. So we hooked up with the DLNR Trail Maintenance Team today and spent some time down by the Junction of Kalawahine and Manoa Cliffs. Pictures

If you have any issues with the solutions that evolved from the mud down that way, well, neither I nor Harald give a damn. And if you feel strongly enough about it we will introduce you to the members of the Trail Maintenance Team, who take great pride in their work.

We will be going out again on the 20th of January to work on trails that will be used during the first Hurt Series Run. Lots of diversion ditches. Fred, the Trail Supervisor, likes them almost as much as I do. We will need about four people on the 20th. Small groups are best for the time being. But Fred is currently willing to work with us twice a month. So don’t worry, you can get in on the fun in short order.

This is our chance to work on the trails we care about, and do the kind of work we regard as necessary. It may make them easier to run, and faster, which is not always a good point. But it will also make them safer, and help to make our passage along them more transparent to others. We will work with DLNR, under their supervision, and be doing approved trail work. As time goes on it is hoped that we can take on the maintenance of the improvements we help with.

I have said it before, but will say it again. If you come out and show respect for the land, and help maintain paths that others can use to enjoy the forest, then the land and the forest will reward you in ways you will be quite surprised with. The spirits of the land will smile on you.

So…the problems at the junction are gone. I have however dug a long man trench just up the trail and stuck pungi sticks along the bottom. Just past this obstacle we dug a machine gun nest. I’ve talked with the boys from the maintenance crew and they will be manning it on Saturday Morning. I told them about that guy Hopwood and they will be gunning for him, and the rest of the fast crowd. I have to tell you I’m thinking my 35+ will be quite competitive this year. If you think I’m nuts, just ask my new trail friends.

Kuli'ou'ou Revisited

Kuli'ou'ou Ridge

Don and I walked the lower reaches of Kuli'ou'ou today. My back is still tight and he is just beginning to feel ready to return to running. So a nice walk was in order. It was good to talk to Don, good to hear about his trip with Heather to Canada, and good to talk about my HURT plans. We took it slow going up the switchbacks toward the bench.

Kuli'ou'ou Ridge Trail. View down Kuli'ou'ou Valley to MaunaLua Bay.

We made our way up the first steep section, but the second one, that is full of roots caused me to call a halt to our ascent. I just did not want to slip and fall on my ass on the way down. Given my stiff back and the extra clumsiness that would instill in me, I just thought it best to turn around. A second day of going out with old buddies and being pretty flaky on the trails. But then I am doing, or planning on doing a 100 in just over a week.

A Hike Along the Old Pali Road

Along the Old Pali Road

I called Pete this afternoon as the wind was down and I figured he was already burned out working. I was right. We met at the Pali Lookout parking lot an hour later. I didn't want to do much as I screwed up my back with that bottle pack a few days ago. I'm stretching things out and trying to walk upright now. So we walked down the the old road, and ducked under the new highway to continue the old road stroll. It was pleasant. The weather was shifting from cloudy and rain to sunshine. We didn't get too wet or too cold and didn't have to fight the sun either.

Pete has been spending most of his time wind surfing. He filled me in on his exploits and showed me a new web sight that monitors the winds. He can key into Kailua Beach, set a minimum average speed and the site will page him when the speeds have exceeded that average for a set number of minutes. Pretty neat.








The Pali Trail, Kailua-side.Drawing from Fisquet,

Voyage of the Bonite, 1836. Courtesy Hawai‘i State Archives.

We walked down the old road and actually found a set of older roads near the bottom where the Kailua branch intersects the New Pali Highway. It looks like they improved the old forties road and cut off a switchback in the fifties. There was also another smaller road the branched off the old Pali road and headed back toward the eastern side of the hill, where the new road now runs. That must have been the access road to the Seminary which is now accessed via the new road. It has been there for a long time. It needed an access road to Kailua before the new road went in. Interesting to find all this.

We hiked back up the hill to the Pali Overlook. On the way up Pete found a small Jackson's Chameleon Lizard, not more than a week or two old. It is one of those moving kind with the horns. It was the color of the road it was crawling across. He picked it up and put it in the bushes where it likely perished from having to find its way back out onto the road again.

We finished up the hike by going to the Big City Diner and drinking vast quantities of beer and eating large plates of Pupu. Pete showed me his 'Star Gazer', some computerized piece of junk that he is thrilled with. He has been trying to convince me of the value of this 'As seen on TV' item for at least six months. I finally got to see it today and have to admit that it is a bigger piece of shit than I had feared it would be. The only thing it could find was the moon, and that was because I was slappin my ass and screamin "over here Clowno!" really loudly so he had to point it toward me. (In all fairness, on a later date we went down to Kailua Beach and it is a really neat little piece of electronics.)

It was a good walk, my back feels much better, though anything should feel better after a few 24 ounce stines. We stayed around to watch Ohio State, Pete's old school, finish up against Texas. The only thing that failed more miserably than the Buckeyes was that electronic piece of junk Pete calls a star gazer.