Contacts: The Devil Himself

I. Hate. Contacts. 

For years I've been debating on getting 1-day disposable contacts for swimming/hiking/whatever, but I always put it off because I really hate putting things in my eyes. Hate it. I've worn glasses since I was 6 years old and I'm perfectly content with it... mostly. 

In the summer, hiking with glasses can get kind of annoying because they move around your sweaty face, but I used Croakie's to keep them in place and it worked out fine. Winter is the bigger problem: they often fog up quickly and no anti-fog product I have used yet has worked well (thought I just bought Cat Crap, we'll see how that goes). So, finally I said screw it and made an appointment.

Everything went smoothly, my prescription had barely changed and they had trial ones that they could put my prescription on. A nice man gave me a quick demo with contacts he was wearing. "Okay, we hold the eyelashes to they're out of the way, we open the eye very wide, once the contact is placed on the eye we pull our finger away slowly, close the eye, rub the eye gently, then the contact slips into place" (he said 'we' a lot). Seemed easy enough. He did it in about four seconds. 

It took me an hour and a half to get one in and out.

It started off poorly and continued to digress from there. Thankfully he left me to do it alone after a few minutes. I cannot control the involuntary blink when the thing gets close to my eye. After like AN HOUR I got ONE in, and I am convinced it was a fluke. Total fluke. I asked him if it was the longest it ever took someone, he said, "no, once a woman started crying and hitting the table. It made me really uncomfortable." I promised him I wouldn't cry and started on my left eye. After about 15 minutes I decided it probably wasn't going to work. I didn't want to be there for hours, it wasn't worth it. He showed me how to take it out, again doing it in about 2 seconds, and promised me that taking them out is easier. It did take much less time, but it didn't just "pop" out like his did. After about 10 minutes I started to panic that I wouldn't be able to get it out and the doctor would have to do it. If there's anything I hate more than putting things in/taking things out of my eyes, it's someone else doing it to me. I could feel the frustration and panic building into tears but held back for fear of embarassement and to fulfill my promise to the nice man helping me. I would NOT cry. I finally got the damn thing out. 

I will not be able to wear them on our 2.5 day winter hiking & camping / ski trip over New Years, which is basically the prime example of when I need them. Sigh. I just spent 30 minutes trying again, and while I made some progress it still wasn't graceful and I type this wearing my glasses. I think that in a past life someone tortured me via my eyes, it is the only way to explain my uncontrollable aversion to getting something into my eye. I am scarred for life.

I found some decent advice online that has helped me this time around, but I've found equally as many things like this:

OH IT'S JUST THAT EASY, IS IT?!

Deep breath. PLEASE GIVE ME ADVICE!

A Mini-Vacation

I've heard rumors that real adults get to take real vacations and still get paid. I guess I'm not a real adult, but I can still take a mini-vacation, damnit! That's exactly what Adam and I decided to do. Originally we had planned a Friday night - Monday morning trip to Michigan to visit for his niece's 1st birthday party, but the opportunity to extend this mini-vacation another two days presented itself and we TOOK IT... because we are KIND-OF-ADULTS!

Presented without comment

As with any normal mini-vacation that involves airplanes, I spent Friday meticulously detailing and mulling over various routes to the airport from work. Let me say that I have never once missed a flight or even been remotely close to being late, but I get worked up about it nonetheless. I had a holiday party to attend that afternoon, so I stressed over how late I could stay in order to still make it to the airport in time. I ended up leaving two rounds short of the end of the yankee swap, and I never did find out who got the gift I brought. It was worth it to get to the airport two hours before my flight, mostly just for my mental state, though. 

The trip to Michigan was great, not only to get away from Boston and work but for spending time with family, too. Last time we saw Riley she was still practicing "tummy time", this time she was able to walk, communicate much better, and scream at the top of her lungs for fun. Her birthday party was adorable and mostly for the adults (as any 1st birthday is). I think that kid has seen enough flashing cameras to last a lifetime.

Reporters at Press Conference: "So, how does it feel to be 1 year old?"

Our quick trip came to and end early Monday morning with a drive back to Detroit's airport. A fire alarm started blaring as we stood in line for security, and I was sure this would be the time I would miss a flight. In typical human fashion, no one did anything in response to the alarm. We all just stood around and assumed the building wasn't burning down. A woman got in line behind us and said, "um, excuse me? What is going on? What is that thing flashing?" Lady, have you never heard a fire alarm in your whole life? Do you not hear the recorded message telling you "this is a fire alarm"? I almost told her that the strobe light was an indication to rave. Just open your ears for two seconds, goodness gracious.

We did not miss our flight, and one plane, four trains, and one automobile later we landed in Killington, VT, for two days of skiing. As REI employees we got free access to Killington's Demo Day, where vendors come and lets people try out their skis for free. I was mostly just excited for my first day skiing since last season.

Me last season

I'm sorry, I just lied to you. That above photo is about as far from me skiing as you can get. Last season was my first time ever skiing, and we only got in a handful of days. Still, by the end of last season I was feeling confident on the greens. Turns out skiing was only slightly like "riding a bike". It came back to me, but slowly. Last season we always made the joke that I never fell (which is not true, I had one decent fall) because of my new waterproof pants, which I called my "anti-gravity" pants. I wore the same pants in hopes of conjuring their magical powers, but they kind of failed me. A lot. 

Thankfully I didn't have too many big wrecks, unlike Adam who literally bounced down the mountain on his first alpine run (he's been telemark skiing for a bit). I did fall, though, much more than last season. It's fine, I'm still new and my falls were more like intentional sit-downs, but it can be disheartening. I know what skiing should look like and I know what I want to do, but I don't have the skill to do it yet. I'm still working on those french fry turns. Also, if I have one second of distraction I basically go out of control and fall. It's a great method for success.

Adam on his tele skis 

The first day was foggy, but the second day was much worse. It got to the point where we couldn't see the signs at the intersections until we got within 10 feet of them. This did not bode well for my anxiety over sharing the trail. I start to get nervous if I sense another skier or snowboarder coming, so the very limited visibility just added to my anxieties. 

Non-view from the lift

We only got a half-day in on our second day because our friend Neil's binding snapped mid-run. Honestly, I was happy to only stay half the day. I was tired from the day before and fell much more than I would have liked. Despite a start to the season that involved me on my ass so much, I'm ready to get back out there again. I can't get better if I don't keep going, right? Right.

At Least It Had A Happy Ending

Warning: I'm about to say bad things about hiking.

But they will be followed by good things, I promise.

Adam and I had a Saturday off together, which hasn't happened without us requesting it in... forever, probably. We hastily started planning our first winter hike of the season. Last year was the first year we really got into winter camping and hiking together, and we were itching to get out again. We finally settled on the Hancocks, two peaks off the hairpin turn on the Kancamagus. Our plan was to hike in at least 1.8 miles to the first major intersection, maybe further if we felt up to it, set up the hammock, and finish the remainder in the morning. Alright! Great plan!

Like clockwork, the day before our trip I started suffering from menstrual woes. I say "like clockwork" because somehow before every major winter hike (which is a big physical undertaking, mind you) I have been stricken with the same affliction. It's Satan's way of reminding me that he is real. Not only does it present some -ahem- unique challenges in nature's non-bathroom (especially when it's below freezing), but it makes one feel generally shitty. It's not good to feel generally shitty when you're hauling 30-40lbs of gear on your back, hiking multiple miles, layered in heavy gear... well, you get this gist. 

"Do I HAVE to get out?"

The night went really well. We got up north at a reasonable hour and even had enough time to enjoy a leisurely dinner at Subway. The hike in by headlamp was a pleasant 1.8 miles, so pleasant that we continued on 1/4 mile before setting up camp. Anxiety started to creep up on me while we settled into the hammock. It was dark, very dark. We were in a place that is notorious for not having cell service. We were the only car in the parking lot, no one else was on this mountain. I didn't feel great, what if I was getting sick? And that noise... was that the hammock? Was that snow falling off of the tarp? Or was it a bear coming to maul us? Oh, how the mind wanders. 

My anxieties didn't last long. Eventually they were overtaken by the childlike giddiness that comes with camping out, and by the peaceful quiet of a snow-covered forest. We slept for a comfortable 7ish hours and got a later start than planned. We had 7.75 miles to hike, for which we budgeted 4 hours (3.5 if we were booking it). All told, it would take us 6.5 hours. 

The first chunk was relatively easy except that we were breaking trail. It has snowed ~3 inches overnight, so Adam and I took turns making steps through the fresh powder. It doesn't sound hard (3 inches of snow, so what?) but it feels like walking in sand. A few river crossings shook things up a bit, but all was quiet until we got the junction for the loop. 

And then it all fell apart. 

The first 3.6 miles to the junction are, like I said, easy-peasy. We studied our topo map and saw that the ascent up North Hancock and descent of South Hancock would be very steep, but it didn't seem so bad since the rest of the trail was almost flat. Oh, how wrong I was. First, a group of six hikers caught up to us not 2 minutes past the junction. It's always a weird sensation to feel very alone on a mountain and then suddenly - HELLO! - there's a big group of people. And they were a ... how do I say this... boisterous group that had an affinity to blasting dubstep from speakers in their pack. 

Almost immediately we were on the steep slope, which happened to last the entire .7 miles. It was probably one of the hardest .7 miles I've ever hiked, at least mentally. The first winter hike of the season is always a kick in the ass, but this felt different. A bout of rain had turned to heavy, wet snow. There's something soul-sucking about hiking in cold slush, even when the proper gear prevents it from getting to your skin. It is also energy-sucking; we were burning around 500 calories per hour, and at that rate it's nearly impossible to refuel as quickly as you lose it. I would equate it to trying to eat a Big Mac while running on a treadmill. 

Looking back on our tracks

Climbing on unbroken trail through several inches of snow is hard enough, add an unreasonably steep slope and it's that much harder. I felt myself slowing down. I tried to will myself to not stop, but my legs had other ideas and would simply stop moving every hundred feet or so. I grew more and more frustrated that I was slowing us down so much (to which Adam will never agree), and it was worsened by the fact that I couldn't seem to push myself to just go. When I'm having a hard time on trail I set small goals, just keep going until the next intersection, but that method only disheartened me. I read a story many years ago that hell was eternally carrying rocks up a hill to stack into a pyramid (or something like that), only to come back down and realize the number of rocks to carry up never decreased. Sometimes that's what hiking in the White Mountains feels like. It is relentless. Every time we rounded a corner it was more of the same. I wanted so desperately for there to be a change, for that turn to be the one that landed us at the top, and it wasn't. So, I would mentally reset and take another step, only for that step to slide backwards down the slope in the deep powdered snow. I didn't want to continue, I didn't want to turn around, I simply wanted to stop doing it.

Then my uterus turned on me and I really fell apart. Adam tried to motivate me by saying the trees were getting thinner, we must be near the top, and I didn't even care. I wasn't excited. I was frustrated and defeated, especially knowing that this was summit # 1 out of 2 with a fairly decent stretch back to the car. I had to remember that I CHOSE to do this, that this was my own fault and I should stop whining, and then I finally lost it. Only about 1/10 of a mile from the wooded, viewless summit, I stopped and let Adam get out of sight, heaved forward onto my trekking poles, and let out a single tear of frustration and pain.

North Hancock Summit

You would probably never know by looking at that photo that I was bent at the waist fighting back tears not three minutes before (though the convenient smudge of snow over my face probably helps). I was upset and embarrassed, and I desperately wanted to get away from the group that was still blasting electronic music from their backpack and yelling obscenities at each other. I wanted to flash my Leave No Trace Trainer badge (that doesn't exist, but it would be cool) and be like PRINCIPLE 7: BE CONSIDERATE TO OTHER VISITORS; "LET NATURE'S SOUNDS PREVAIL". I do not haul my ass up mountains in those conditions to listen to music I hate, or any music at all, really.

The 1.4 mile link to the south summit was considerably easier, and I felt a weight lift knowing that the most physically challenging part was over. Even still, every small rise in elevation felt like a battle, especially since we were trudging through even deeper snow. We were breaking trail again, and even with a full, normal step my foot didn't come out from under the snow. That 1.4 miles was the only time I wish we had snowshoes on, but overall I was thankful to not have brought the extra weight. 

South Summit

We had a pretty quiet hike after getting off the steep slope (except when we were leapfrogging the loud group), and it wasn't a peaceful quiet, it was the "Molly is upset" quiet. You see, this isn't the first time I've gotten upset during one of our outings, and Adam knows me well enough to know when those times are. It's usually a much shorter amount of time than was on this hike, and I'm usually a chatty-Cathy on the way up and down. I was not a chatty-Catchy. I was a silent-Sally. I desperately wanted the day to end. I knew that we were going to be long past our planned 3.5-4 hours, and I couldn't help feeling responsible. The going was easier, but I was still feeling like a sack of crap. I tried my hardest to set small goals and feel accomplished, like "only .5 miles to the next intersection", but I couldn't help but feel discouraged by how long we still had to go. 

And then Adam fell in a river, and I stopped complaining. 

Did I get your attention again? Oh, good. Yeah, so Adam fell in a river. There are three big river crossing and two minor ones. In the morning the three perilous ones weren't so bad. The ice was thin in some spots, but a few thwacks with a trekking pole would tell if you the ice would hold. In the afternoon, however, the temps had risen a little and the group of 6 had hit the crossings just before us. Some of the water was low enough to not go over your boot if you went in, but this one was pretty deep. It was obvious that several members of the group ahead of us had definitely gone in (not waist deep or anything, but enough to get a wet foot). I investigated to the right of their path but it didn't seem promising. I told Adam to check out a spot to the left that looked entirely frozen over. It required a minor bushwhack over a burm and through some undergrowth, nothing too dicey. He went over the burm and stepped down onto flatter ground, which was not flat ground but a thin layer of ice over some swampy inlet to the river. His lower half disappeared and then reappeared as a he dispersed his weight with his trekking poles. I heard another crack and saw him scramble to actual flat ground. It was a tense moment of silence before I said, "...Soooooo.. guess you're going to try from over there then?" It was the first time I laughed in several hours. Luckily I made it across without any mishaps.

It wasn't until the last stretch, 1.8 miles from the final junction to the car, that I finally settled into the day. The constant aches and pains were just normal, not something to pay attention to. I let my mind float and my body took over. Of course, I finally found my mental balance at the very end. I came to terms with the fact that not every trip will be good, and that's fine. I've had shitty days on trail, but this one felt compounded by feeling crappy, being weighed down by heavy wet snow, and by being mentally exhausted. I felt proud of myself for not turning around, for struggling through it. I was happy to make peace with the day, but I was even happier to see the little piece of civilization.

Can you spot the sign?

So life giving.

The car was a welcome sight, especially since we had decided to stop at our usual place: The Common Man. It's the one great restaurant in the area that we know Adam can eat, and it's become sort of a tradition for us. We stripped off our wet outer layers and took refuge by the roaring fire in the lounge. Our muscles already ached, and we happily relaxed in a semi-disoriented state of tiredness after the long day. A family joined our little pod of couches and lounge chairs, we got to chatting with them for maybe fifteen minutes, tops, as they waited for their table to open. When we asked for our check the waiter informed us that those folks had paid for our meal because they enjoyed talking to us. I don't think that has ever happened to me, and it really took me by surprised. It was a simple, kind gesture that really resonated with us. 

So, I had a bad day hiking I guess, but in the end it was great. I walked (hobbled) out feeling beat but happy that we had done what we came to do. 

Gasoline Powered Turkey

I can't believe it's already December.

Thanksgiving promised to be a good introduction to winter, as we heard reports of almost a foot of snow coming to my parents house. On Wednesday we got a lot of rain in Boston, but the rain quickly changed to snow as we headed north. 

Unplowed roads

It was a long trip up to New Hampshire. We almost didn't make it up our hill, we got stuck behind a slow-moving car and almost couldn't get enough momentum to get to the top.  The house was dark upon our arrival... they lost power a few hours before we got there. 

Scenes from Thanksgiving

Our gas-powered generator powered just enough to keep my mom's big refrigerator's running, the heat on enough to keep the pipes from freezing, and the water on so we could flush the toilets. Living the lap of luxury, if I do say so myself! Unfortunately the power was still out in the morning, but we ventured out to get the Sunday paper for Black Friday flyers. The lack of electricity would not stop TRADITION! ...except we couldn't watch the Macy's Day Parade or National Dog Show. True bummer.

Instead of TV, Adam and I ventured out into the winter wonderland. It was the first time we got to play in the snow in a while. Meanwhile, a Thanksgiving chef-ery miracle was being pulled off at my house. We have one gas-powered oven that my mom uses for baking, so we were able to cook the bird in that. Everything else was cooked on a small one burner stove and the grill. It turned out to be a great meal. 

Thanksgiving doesn't need electricity!