The news is evolving, so I'm not quite ready to lay it all out here. Soon, soon.
I did want to jot down some thoughts I had while we were camping and climbing around Independence Pass this weekend. I've started to have more-than-before trouble hiking uphill. Not the kind of strenuous-exercise, breathing-hard trouble you might expect while hiking uphill, but rather seeing-where-I'm-going, staying-balanced, feeling-stable kind of trouble. I've always been wobbly on boulder fields and whatnot, but lately even the more routine hiking has seemed orientationally challenging.
When I first noticed this I attributed it in part to the fact that I usually bring poles for long hikes and backpacking trips, but rarely schlep them along for rock climbing excursions. We've done quite a few climbs lately with longish, steepish approaches, and though I've finally learned not to attempt these walks in my sandals, I have yet to remember to bring my poles.
But I think it's more than just the absence of a balance aid. My field of vision is so small now that when I'm walking uphill on a steep grade, I can't see what's ahead because it's actually above me, out of my visual range. So the uphill process becomes mentally draining and physically frustrating as I repeatedly make contact with bushes, low-hanging tree branches, and logs, struggle to find solid footing, and miss switchbacks or lose track of the meandering trail because I'm focusing on the uneven terrain at my feet. Going downhill still entails some careful stepping, but at least I can see the obstacles and danger zones spread below me.
Recognizing what's causing these approach hikes to be so difficult has made them a little easier for me and for my climbing companions. Instead of getting angry at myself for my slow and awkward progress this weekend, I was able to articulate what I was experiencing, crack wise about it, and press on to the top without ever reaching the edge-of-tears point in my frustration that has become so annoyingly familiar.
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