12 days ago I went to the river. It is a 15 minutes drive "up the hill" to the American River Canyon.
I could not find a parking space at my usual place. I parked at a lower level and proceeded into
new territory. First find: Mountain Quarries Railroad bridge built in 1912 according to a recent
well-maintained plaque which described a series of natural disasters that this structure had survived.
Then I found a horse trail and took it toward the site I had been introduced to by Louisa 27 years
ago. By dropping down a couple of hundred steep feet, I reached it. After spending an hour or so
at the beach there I decided to return by following the river back to the old bridge. It was a rocky trail.
Some of the rocks were the size of Volkswagens, some as large as small cabins. I encountered a
few people along the way and asked if I could actually get to the bridge by following the river back.
Answer: No. "You have to go up,but it is very steep. Of course I had to try it. I sighted the easiest
climbs and started upward. I was wearing shorts and tennis shoes, not my usual hiking boots. It was extremely hot and I carried a water bottle and my T-shirt. As I climbed I looked for a hand-hold and
felt with my feet for a toe hold. At one point I felt I was holding on to the side of a mountain and didn't
dare look down or look back. Thoughts running through my mind were my doctor who years ago
invited me to go rock climbing with him. Not long after I heard and read that Dr. Kime had perished
on one of his rock-climbing ventures.
As for my venture I could see my Placer-Herald headline :"70 year-old missing in American River
Canyon."
At this point I was pitching my water bottle and then my shirt up, so as to have both hands available.
Suspended in space I said a brief prayer for a branch, a rock anything to grab onto to hoist myself
up another foot or two. A rock appeared. I grabbed it, felt for a toe-hold and pulled my full body
weight upwards. I reached a somewhat level area and made myself rest. I remembered "hydrate"
-took some water and considered abandoning the water bottle to lighten my load for the remainder
of my trip to the horse trail. After getting my wind back I continued upward. There was no going
back at this point. After two more rest stops I reached the horse trail and sat there panting and grateful.
6 days after my climb I noticed a red itchy spot on my belly (unfortunately that is the best term
these days).
With each passing day the redness expanded. On Wednesday I got on line and made a Dr's
appointment. I presented with redness, swelling and itching on my right torso. My sister had recently undergone an excruciating case of shingles with similar symptoms. Did I catch it? The doctor said
"No, the pattern had crossed the mid-line of your body which shingles never does and you describe
'itching'. With shingles it is not itching, but pain." "Where have you been? and what have you been
doing? he asked. I thought and said the Quarry where I had done volunteer work on two previous weekends. He looked puzzled and asked: "A quarry? What's that?" I explained and he said he thought
I was exposed to poison ivy or poison oak. Later,of course I realized I had probably contacted one
of those evil plants on my climb. He prescribed a steroid ointment and after my worst day on Thursday,
when my stomach had the appearance of raw hamburger, it is resolving.
Now I lay in bed, restless with small firestorms occurring on my skin. Ow! another new itch. I look down.
Indeed there is another new red spot. My body says "scratch" - my mind says "Don't do that." As the
condition calms in the areas where it originated there are new frontiers on the borders where those dreaded
flares occur. My mind acts as a microscope and zeroes in on those newly afflicted areas. I see lightning storms happening on the map of my body with jolts of thunder that rattle my body and make its entirety jump.
This, too, shall pass.
Climbing? I probably shouldn't but, hell, I don't sky dive.
I could not find a parking space at my usual place. I parked at a lower level and proceeded into
new territory. First find: Mountain Quarries Railroad bridge built in 1912 according to a recent
well-maintained plaque which described a series of natural disasters that this structure had survived.
Then I found a horse trail and took it toward the site I had been introduced to by Louisa 27 years
ago. By dropping down a couple of hundred steep feet, I reached it. After spending an hour or so
at the beach there I decided to return by following the river back to the old bridge. It was a rocky trail.
Some of the rocks were the size of Volkswagens, some as large as small cabins. I encountered a
few people along the way and asked if I could actually get to the bridge by following the river back.
Answer: No. "You have to go up,but it is very steep. Of course I had to try it. I sighted the easiest
climbs and started upward. I was wearing shorts and tennis shoes, not my usual hiking boots. It was extremely hot and I carried a water bottle and my T-shirt. As I climbed I looked for a hand-hold and
felt with my feet for a toe hold. At one point I felt I was holding on to the side of a mountain and didn't
dare look down or look back. Thoughts running through my mind were my doctor who years ago
invited me to go rock climbing with him. Not long after I heard and read that Dr. Kime had perished
on one of his rock-climbing ventures.
As for my venture I could see my Placer-Herald headline :"70 year-old missing in American River
Canyon."
At this point I was pitching my water bottle and then my shirt up, so as to have both hands available.
Suspended in space I said a brief prayer for a branch, a rock anything to grab onto to hoist myself
up another foot or two. A rock appeared. I grabbed it, felt for a toe-hold and pulled my full body
weight upwards. I reached a somewhat level area and made myself rest. I remembered "hydrate"
-took some water and considered abandoning the water bottle to lighten my load for the remainder
of my trip to the horse trail. After getting my wind back I continued upward. There was no going
back at this point. After two more rest stops I reached the horse trail and sat there panting and grateful.
6 days after my climb I noticed a red itchy spot on my belly (unfortunately that is the best term
these days).
With each passing day the redness expanded. On Wednesday I got on line and made a Dr's
appointment. I presented with redness, swelling and itching on my right torso. My sister had recently undergone an excruciating case of shingles with similar symptoms. Did I catch it? The doctor said
"No, the pattern had crossed the mid-line of your body which shingles never does and you describe
'itching'. With shingles it is not itching, but pain." "Where have you been? and what have you been
doing? he asked. I thought and said the Quarry where I had done volunteer work on two previous weekends. He looked puzzled and asked: "A quarry? What's that?" I explained and he said he thought
I was exposed to poison ivy or poison oak. Later,of course I realized I had probably contacted one
of those evil plants on my climb. He prescribed a steroid ointment and after my worst day on Thursday,
when my stomach had the appearance of raw hamburger, it is resolving.
Now I lay in bed, restless with small firestorms occurring on my skin. Ow! another new itch. I look down.
Indeed there is another new red spot. My body says "scratch" - my mind says "Don't do that." As the
condition calms in the areas where it originated there are new frontiers on the borders where those dreaded
flares occur. My mind acts as a microscope and zeroes in on those newly afflicted areas. I see lightning storms happening on the map of my body with jolts of thunder that rattle my body and make its entirety jump.
This, too, shall pass.
Climbing? I probably shouldn't but, hell, I don't sky dive.
