Sorry for the extended break. Just been really busy, in a good way.
Saturday we wanted to go for a hike. But with heavy leg press workout-to-failure scheduled for Sunday, we opted against a big uphill deal that will strain our glutes and thighs. But where can we walk a long way someplace flat, out of town, someplace pretty? Oh yeah, Dungeness Spit!
If you are in the know, you may have already begun laughing at me. You see, Dungeness Spit is the longest coastal spit in the lower 48, "A narrow strip of sand, dune, and beached logs, Dungeness Spit protrudes over 5 miles straight into the strait." The trail winds through a happy little forest and down a small bluff to the spit. Then you just walk the sand and gravel beach, no real trail, to a beautiful old lighthouse at the very end where volunteer keepers will give you a tour! Hiking is the only way out there, unless you make arrangements with the department of wildlife to land a boat there. Total roundtrip? 10.7 miles. 10.2 of that hiking on sand and ocean gravel, on a fairly slanted beach. What were we trying to spare?!? Our legs? Hahahaha!
But we are HARDCORE mofos. We packed the backpack up with lots of good food and water and bandaids and flashlights and extra clothes...I am detailing this here because equally hilarious is the fact that we did this hike EXACTLY two years ago, with NOTHING. You can see my picture during that hike on my little progress filmstrip to the right. We did it on an impulse. We only intended to wander around the spit a little bit, but we just kept going a LITTLE FARTHER. You get to mile 3, you can see the lighthouse there in the distance. It's the weirdest optical illusion. It looks so close, yet it's still two miles away! We had no backpack, no food, no water, nada. But how can you not go all the way with that shimmering monument of maritime nostalgia beckoning to you? We are no good at saying no to such a challenge, whether it's a mountain or a lighthouse. Which surely makes us fools. But we are learning, maybe a little late in life.
To make matters worse, on that previous jaunt, we didn't plan on how long it would take to hike back in the freaking sand, and were under the impression that our car would be LOCKED IN if we didn't get back by 8. So we declined the tour offered by the sweet little Scandanavian keeper when we arrived, drank water voraciously from the fountain, used the restroom, and began the DEATH MARCH back, trying to fight the pain and exhaustion to make faster than 18 minutes a mile in the sand after having hiked 5+ miles in the sand on no fuel or water. My joints, especially knees were much worse then, and I was in profound pain, limping terribly by the time we got back, too late. Very sad bunpoh. But it all turned out okay. Turns out you're SUPPOSED to be off the spit by sundown, so they say what time you're SUPPOSED to be back, but if you drive up to the gate from the inside, it opens! Phew!
This time, we were much prepared, except for a kind amnesia regarding the overall brutality of sand hiking. I guess I kind of figured that since I am currently 50 pounds lighter, and with a damn site more hiking under my belt, I might do better. And I did. Mostly...
Regardless of difficulty, it was an EPIC hike. Endlessly beautiful. We saw a newt on the trail! It froze as we approached. "You can't see me if I'm not moving." It was the EXACT color of the dirt on either side of the pavement. A little farther, three deer were bedded down mere steps to one side in the forest. We stopped to take pictures and they sniffed the air intensely, then went back to ignoring visitors studiously. The view of the spit from the bluff is amazing, stretching into the ocean. And then you go down and onto the beach, the ocean crashing next to you for hours, so hypnotic that the silence is startling you once you return to the forest above. Gulls and cranes and ravens and ducks and hawks. Driftwood and every color and texture of pebble I have ever seen, all mixed up. We had to hustle, normally I beachcomb like a madman. I only managed to snag one tiny translucent amber colored agate with a blood red inclusion.
We stopped to eat on the way down and on the way back. Nothing tastes so good as on a beach after miles of walking.
The lighthouse keeper met us on the meticulous lawn, so friendly and welcoming and looking amusingly nautical in the face. He took us through the little museum rooms, detailing the history of the place expertly. Up to the lantern room, with the shiny brass lamp in the center, on but surprisingly not bright as it shone in our eyes. We gazed out the windows with binoculars, past the ends of the spit deep into the Straits of Juan de Fuca. I love places like this.
I must admit, the walk back became pretty grueling pretty quickly. In fact, by mile 3 on the way THERE, I began having a lot of pain in my hips, especially my left hip. I told A, and he endlessly reassured me that we could turn back any time, I just had to say the word. But no, I couldn't bring myself to stop. It was pain, but just that. I wanted to keep going. so I did. Seven more miles after that. I don't know if that is wise, or not. In the end, it worked out. I was again, limping by the car, but this time was much much better. I was exhausted but exhilarated. And the hip pain? Barely a trace by the next day, gone the following. I got exactly one blister, on the back of my heel where my boot was sliding. I feel like I got off so light!
From the bluff, looking back towards the spit, now dark, we could just see the glimmer of the lighthouse. I cannot BELIEVE how far away that seems now.
About the hip pain. I am wondering what it really is. I was thinking bursitis, now I'm not so sure. This time it was the inside of my hip, near my groin, mostly on my left side but a little on the other, and also in my right flank. I am wondering if it is my walking mechanics, after having poked around on the net a little. It could be my pelvic tilt and/or what one site explained as "using the hip flexors to walk" rather than using my glutes to move my legs! Crazy! I am curious...how does one get this checked out? Do I need to go to a sports doctor/specialist? A massage therapist? A rheumatologist? How expensive is all this? This hip pain thing seems to kick in about three miles into most walks that I do, and it's getting tiresome now. I don't actually believe it's arthritis, though I don't know how to explain that. My hips never hurt me except after walking X amount, but not from lifting, squatting or anything else. I have the strength, endurance and will to hike huge amounts. I don't want this to limit me! I am going to do my damndest to find a way to fix this thing, if humanly possible.
Ah, it's gotten late. Must to bed. But regardless of the pain, I really love our epic hikes. This one was so romantic. And it turns out any able bodied person can sign up to be a lighthouse keeper for a week! Sweet! We may have to do that someday...
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