Somewhere between one every 5 times and one every 100 times I have a CRANKYHIKE. I made up that term today and it fits just right.
Hiking is mostly very good, often great, and sometimes glorious, but looking back on the helpful record provided by this blog, I see I had a crankyhike on December 19th, and I had one again, today.
In the crankyhike, any one of the following, and probably more than one, will happen:
I wake up late, can't decide where to go, get stuck on email or downloading music, finally get out the door when the day is half gone, get lost on the way there, don't bring the right clothes, something is wrong with my sandwich, I drink all my water too fast, I get lost on the trail, I fall, I don't see any cool animals.
Today it was the first 5 and the second to the last. Fortunately the sandwich was fine and I saw a bunch of turkeys.
But what defines crankyhike isn't anything that happens; actually those things often happen during lovely hikes, too. It's my brain. A typical crankyhike minute will pass something like this.
Step. I'm tired. Step. I'm so tired. Step. My back hurts. Step. My thighs are rubbing together. Step. I'm fat. Step. I'm really tired. Step. What's wrong with me? I should be appreciating the day. Step. That's a pretty tree... Step. I'm hungry. Step. My back hurts, and onwards.
I just get stuck in this yukky loop of being unhappy, and then being unhappy about how unhappy I am. The Buddhists say that pain is inevitable but suffering (pain about your pain) is optional. Clearly, I just need to bring a Buddhist along when I'm having a crankyhike and then it'll all be cool.
So today I had a crankyhike for sure, and then I got lost out there, and caught out after dark, which often happens, and then I got scared which does not usually happen.
I started hiking regularly maybe ten years ago? I don't even remember how long, but Jen Johnson can confirm, because it was with her. After several years of being hiking buddies, she got pregnant with my absolutely wonderful UGK (Unofficial Godkid) Benjamin, and I continued hiking alone. Nowadays I can laugh when I look at the tree limb at Ed Levin just about a mile from the parking lot that I was convinced was a mountain lion, but the day I spent half an hour in front of it trying to force myself to keep walking, it was no joke. Fear, once my constant companion on hikes, only visits me rarely these days. I guess ten hikes happened without incident, and then a hundred, and somewhere my little mammal brain realized that Traumatic Things happen very rarely, if ever, on hikes. But tonight, I got spooked.
Now, here is the nice part. Generally, when I get spooked on a hike, it is about the idea of mountain lions. So the solution is to whistle and sing. I remember singing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" while caught WAY the hell out at the Pinnacles; I must have gone through the song about 70 times before I finally got back to my car at 10 PM.
So tonight I started to sing. I'm not some kind of opera singer, but I do love singing, and especially making up harmonies. And while smoking, my singing would always collapse into coughing, or funny mid-word gasps for air. But tonight a month after quitting, I was able - mildly - to let it rip, to let my little voice arc up and bounce around in the hills.
There's nothing like singing when you are scared, or for that matter, feeling like a crankypants. I felt my mood start to raise from my feet, hover at my knees, and then slowly bubble upwards as I went through my repertoire. After the first song, I wasn't even afraid, not really, but kept singing so as to stay that way.
Here are the songs I sing when I'm scared in the woods, in no particular order. I'm linking them to the actual song, in case you are feeling crappy, they should help.
and, of course,
The Tokens -
The Lion Sleeps Tonight
When I go through those songs, I try some other ones, or just start again at the beginning.
Then I came home and ate Sees Candy and took a nap, and now we are basically all good.
What do you do when you are scared? How does it help?