Camino Day 3--6/17/2020

Originally I had planned for Wednesday to be a 6-miles-down, 6-miles-back walk along the coast from around Mussel Shoals, past Rincon beach, and down into Ventura County. The elevation change: "mostly flat," according to Google Maps. On reflection and with our recent experience, though, I thought that 12 miles of road walking sounded like it would be really hard on our bodies. I looked around for a local replacement of about the same length, and decided that previewing our final-day descent sounded like a good idea. While this did require that we also make the ascent, I thought that would be fine. We like hiking. No big deal. 

This is solid evidence that one's context shapes one's view of normal. After Wednesday I'm aware that we're a little skewed. For example, thinking "It's only 12 miles, so some elevation isn't a problem!" Or "It's only 12 miles, it shouldn't take that long!" seemed rational...but was wrong. Only after two 16-mile days could such a thing even be possible. I'm sorry, J.

Camino Day 3: Rattlesnake Canyon Trailhead to Camino Cielo, via Rattlesnake-Tunnel Connector and the Tunnel Trail

Representing Salas to Tineo   

Conditions were overcast and cool as we headed up the Rattlesnake Canyon trail for the second time ever. We first hiked the front part of the trail on a date hike about two years ago, when "our" trail was still out of commission from the Montecito mudflows.  Wednesday was our first time back, and this time around there was running water and some small cascades--beautiful. We hiked the canyon trail to the meadow at the top of the trail. 

We were so happy to see this cool water on the way back down

Tin Can Meadow

We were grateful that another hiker taking a break at the top of the meadow was able to point the way to the connector trail. Having read up on it, I knew that it was about three quarters of a mile long and to expect some significant elevation gain. Even so,  I wasn't quite prepared for the trail to look like this:

As we climbed, I was grateful for the training we have done over the past year that made such a hike doable, though difficult. I also was a little discomfited by how much work it was. I would like to think that if I have prepared and trained for something that the execution should be easy; that the training itself is the work. In some cases this is true: multiplication tables and driving a car come to mind. However, the vast majority of worthwhile things are still really hard work to execute: a steep ascent, for example, or birthing babies or running a race. Training and experience are helpful but don't take away the pain of the actual doing. As my joints and muscles groaned, I struggled with resenting the work required. I'm afraid that's not only the case on the trail. Don't I have this [insert any of my roles or responsibilities] thing down yet? Why is this so hard?

Ugh. 

I was relieved to make it to the signed crossroads with the Tunnel Trail at the end of the connector trail (and didn't notice the poison oak all around the sign until after we took our photos). 

It was a moment of elation. I didn't yet know that the continuing trail would look like a lot of this:

and this:

But also this:

Still a ways to go

We were very excited to make it to the trailhead up on Camino Cielo. The trail flattened and widened out and we knew we had a few kilometers of road walking ahead of us in order to hit our day's distance. Camino Cielo runs atop the ridge above Santa Barbara. 

The road walking was beautiful. The wildflowers were still in bloom, heaping along the side of the road like a planned garden. The way was smooth; no sharp or rolling rocks meant that we were free to lift our eyes to the beauty. We were above the marine layer in the sunshine and could feel the cool sea breeze unencumbered by hills in between. One of the pleasures of having a smoother walk is that there's attention left over for conversation. On the road we talked some about the connection of this metaphor with where our lives are at present; where the road feels rocky and demanding of our attention; and what it looks like to balance the tension between keeping our eyes on the goal and on the road at hand. I'm so grateful for these kinds of spaces.

                                            

                                   

We kept walking until we got to a clear view on both sides of the road: south to the ocean, and north into the Santa Ynez Valley. 

We stopped for a break to breathe it in and for Noon Prayer. 

Turnaround point on Day 3

From there it was retracing our steps: "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!"  (Not a perfect match, poetically, but there are tiger allusions and some overlap and also let's count St. George toward the fighting of the Dragon. In any case we often say it when starting up again). 

Back down into the clouds for a bit

And in this case we needed a rallying cry. Not even going up was preparation for coming down, especially on the connector trail segment where the rocks and soil were loose. Even going slowly and paying attention, I took some spills. Three, in fact. My third fall came as J was suggesting that we may need to reconsider our final day's route; that hiking down this trail while tired might not be safe. I believe his words were, "It is the grace of God that you have not been seriously hurt on either of those [previous 2] falls." Right in the midst of his statement, I fell. Again. Without serious injury or anything that would prevent me from getting home. We're considering our options for Day 8. 

I can be stubborn

My hero and the self-proclaimed official photographer of the Camino

As difficult as today was, it was incredibly rewarding. And long. And a testament, indeed, to the grace of God. I love spending the time with J and having the mental space to stretch out just a bit from the everyday--even if I'm coming home to just that at the end of every hike, and even if much of the time the challenge of the walk itself makes it difficult to focus on anything but the steps immediately at hand. Even in those steps (and perhaps especially my missteps) God is with us and at work.

At the end, after I'd drenched my buff in the icy stream multiple times to cool down

Camino Day 3

(When we started training I switched my tracking apps to the metric system so that I would mentally be prepped to track our progress while in Spain. As it is, here I'm getting better at the constant conversions. May it become easy as multiplication tables!).