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WALK 2: Fluid Dynamics

Now that we’re out of the forest and training on the Memphis Greenline, our focus this week has shifted towards pacing. So why is that important?

With my average stride, I can walk 3.5 to 3.75 miles per hour bearing weight, a fairly fast pace for the fuzzybutts… almost a trot for them really. But one of the rules of the road is one must walk their walk. Which basically means, you must abide by nature’s design of you.

So since I cannot quicken nor slow my pace for extended periods, nor they, me, most of our training comes down to figuring out how a Man-Pyr (that’s YBD), a French poet and existentialist (that’s Hudson), and a Moose (that’s, well, Moosey) reach a rhythm on the road.

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The Problem is Pyrs

I always thought it was god’s greatest joke on me that I choose to go on great journeys with one the most notoriously “independent” breeds. That’s how wonderful rescues like the National Great Pyrenees Rescue characterizes them anyway. I have my own sobriquet for Pyrs, crasser and truer to my southern roots, and one that could and should equally apply to me, too.

Such as it is, pacing is a partnership and that’s why it’s of paramount importance at this stage of training.

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A Matter of Metrics

To attain our 25 week West Coast Walk, we must average a little over 12 miles per day. From our work last week and this, I now know that 6 miles per two hours is a comfortable pace for us. That includes a 15-20 minute break halfway and a few ‘stop and sniffs’.

But with a laggard and a leader… I’ll let you guess which is which… the science isn’t always that exact.

A partnership presupposes many things, but what’s most important to its success is fluidity and I feel like Hudson-Indiana-Luke, our little Industrial Puppy Complex is making great strides towards…

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Yer Big Dog’s (YBD’s) Notes 1: I am pleased with our progress and preparation over these past few weeks, although we’ve had a few hiccups throughout… More on that later.

YBD’s Notes 2: This week is gear training and filming the Trailer.

The Road

Is a curious thing.
It forgives and forgets

It punishes and at times,
Demands pay

Whether footsteps towards
Or footsteps away

No certainty
Not on any day

Those that step
Must accept

There are no manmade laws
Just the awe

Of living on The Road

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YBD’s Notes 1: Happy Saint Patrick’s Day. This poem was inspired by the Irish saying, ‘May the road rise to meet you.”.

YBD’s Notes 2: Bollocks.

YBD’s Notes 3: The Road represents the path in life you take. May YOU rise to meet The Road.

WALK 2: The Route

WEST COAST WALK ROUTE

Launch Date: May 10th, 2014

Launch Location: Peace Arch Park Vancouver BC

Vancouver BC to Everett WA:

Route: 543 to Portal Way

Vista to Hovander

West Smith to Pacific Highway

Northwest Ave to Samish Way

Hwy 99 to Cedardale Rd

Pacific Hwy to Hwy 99

Distance: 90 miles. Estimated Week of Arrival (WOA): May 18th

Everett WA to Seattle WA

Route: Hwy 99

Distance: 30 miles. Estimated WOA: May 18th

Seattle WA to Tacoma WA

Route: Hwy 99

Distance: 35 miles. Estimated WOA: May 25th

Route Tacoma WA to Portland OR

Route: Hwy 7 to Hwy 507

Distance: 155 miles . Estimated WOA: June 8th

Portland OR to Otis OR

Route: Hwy 99 W

Distance: 85 miles. Estimated WOA: June 15th

Otis OR to Gardiner OR

Routes for Remainder of the Walk: Hwy 101 and Hwy 1

Distance: 100 miles. Estimated WOA: June 22nd

Gardiner OR to North Bend OR

Distance 30 miles. Estimated WOA: June 29th

North Bend to Brookings OR

Distance: 110 miles. Estimated WOA: July 6th

Brookings OR to Eureka CA

Distance: 115 miles. Estimated WOA: July 20th

Eureka CA to Loleta CA*

Distance: 15 miles. Estimated WOA: July 27th

Loleta CA to Garberville CA*

Distance: 65 miles. Estimated WOA: August 3rd

Garberville CA to Fort Bragg CA*

Distance: 70 miles. Estimated WOA: August 10th

Fort Bragg CA to San Francisco

Distance: 175 miles. Estimated WOA: September 1st

San Francisco to Carmel

Distance: 120 miles. Estimated WOA: September 14th

Carmel to Santa Barbara CA

Distance: 230 miles. Estimated WOA: October 1st**

Santa Barbara CA to LA

Distance: 110 miles. Estimated WOA: October 12th**

LA to San Diego CA

Distance: 125 miles. Estimated WOA: October 26th

San Diego CA to Border

Distance: 15 miles. Estimated Date for Arrival Party: Weekend of November 1st

TOTAL ESTIMATED MILEAGE: 1,675 miles

*Some areas of Hwy 101 don’t seem to be open to pedestrians. Alternative route may be necessary

WALK 2: Chickasaw

A Hudson and Indiana Joint

Finally after bringing the bitter and brutal weather down south from one of the snowiest and coldest Northeastern winters I’ve been in, we got a break in the weather and took advantage of it at Chickasaw State Park.

Hudson and Indiana and I spent the past half week there training and they did great. We’ve been hiking in all sorts of conditions and terrains but the working relationships will be markedly different than with Hudson and Murphy and me. More on that later…

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We’re Back in the Tent Again (Cue Aerosmith)

The fuzzybutts and I have spent a night or two in our tent now and then but now we’re ramping up to the six or seven nights per week for our West Coast Walk.

When camping out, our world is framed within 7’x9′ ripstop nylon walls and that’s all we really need. Base camp is our sanctuary and the official Offices of Snuggles and Snuggles no matter where we’re at.

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For the Love of Loblolly’s

The Chickasaw Forest has acres and acres of pine trees and when we had a moment to rest, my favorite place to repose was in a grove of Loblolly’s.

When there’s a decent wind, there’s nothing like lying on your back watching and listening as they sway in legato like the lilt of an Indian flute.

Yer Big Dog’s Notes 1: I’ve been here before on Walk 1. The stretch from Memphis to Nashville TN was treacherous and rife with challenges from 64 to Whiteville, 100 to Mousetail, and 412 on to Columbia and 31.

YBD’s Notes 2: And there’s a wonderful Mennonite bakery off of 64 that we stopped at on Walk 1. I was so hungry and I bought a pound of their roasted garlic cheese but alas, they no longer sell it.

Meet Malcolm and Murphy

Heisenberg’s Uncertainty

“Natural science, does not simply describe and explain nature; it is part of the interplay between nature and ourselves.”

Damnit Yer Big Dog!

Not that Heisenberg….

This one!

Way back in college when I was pre-med, I took several physics courses which pretty much kicked me in the arse… but I loved it.

I could wikipedia a link to Werner Heisenberg’s Principle for you to read and understand about how it was one of the tectonic shifts from Newtonian physics to Quantum Mechanics.

But in my best and most humble attempts over the years, I’ve reduced it down to this: “There are things unseen, there are things known, but can we see the things unknown?”

‘Hizzy’s P’ as it’s known in the ‘biz’, has become a much larger metaphor for me, an intersection at which I oftentimes find myself lost and without direction. And yet unafraid.

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Integrative Manual Therapy

Late last year our Baltimore walk organizer, Chris, turned me onto IMT and I visited their Institute back in January after her dog, Blake was DX’d with menigioma. I spent a day with the founders and thought leaders of Integrative Manual Therapy, Tom and Sharon.

I must admit, watching them work on Blake was bumfuzzling especially since I was raised in a ‘Western medicine’ environment as my father was a nephrologist. Even after a lengthy conversation with Tom, I still couldn’t reach my mind around IMT.

I tried to blog about the experience but I felt like a vegan writing a review about a Bobby Flay burger joint. But I’ve seen things on my travels most people wouldn’t believe so I’ve learned to keep an open mind. I mean, after all, Western medicine has been around for hundreds of years; Eastern medicine thousands.

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I Got Yer Back

Chris, ever so resolute and firm in her belief of IMT, and a whole host of others too, convinced me to get treatment on my L5 herniated disc. I’ve written in previous posts about a work injury and subsequent car wreck that left me with, at times, crippling chronic pain that I had learned to live with and compensate for.

The Thursday before I left New England, I went up to Hartford CT in part because of a promise I made to Chris and, perhaps, in part out of desperate hopefulness for some sort of relief. I don’t and won’t take pain meds and have a general aversion to pharmaceuticals of all flavors.

Following a thorough history and assessment, Tom’s conclusion was that my back’s range of motion was about 1/6th of its normal flexibility and utility and my leg muscles had been doing most of its work as a result. I kinda already knew that but what happened next is still head scratching to me.

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On Barb’s Butt, Sweet N’Low, and Green Tea

I have to be honest, I was pretty skeptical going into my IMT treatment since my only prior experience was watching Blake, who couldn’t speak openly about it, and Chris’ friend, Barb, who had a packet of sugar substitute placed on her backside to see how her body reacted.

I called Mommy G after that in an attempt to explain IMT to her and said, “Well, I thought I understood it until the sugar butt thing.”

Trust me, you put any form of food or spirits anywhere near me and my body will say, “Yes, please.” Maybe that’s because I’m a dog or from TX… Still, Tom and Sharon make a mean cup of green tea and having spent time in Japan, I know a cup of tea, and I made an appointment to see them.

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Yoga Makes You Fart

That’s what I’ve heard anyway.

And when I was on the IMT table for the first time, that’s all I could think about as admittedly I was nervous about the experience.

And then Tom put his hands on me. Not like a massage therapist or chiropractor working out or through the tension, Tom was trying to find the source of it I’ve ascertained. It’s like unwinding a clock back to zero hour. Back before the pain.

Those that know me know I’m not a touchy-feely sort of fellow. And yet, after a few minutes of Tom’s and Sharon’s hands on me, I felt comforted. They didn’t exert any force to me physically and yet after the therapy, my lower back was afire.

Now I recall my studies of thermodynamics about time and pressure but all of my erudition and the laws of science I had grown so accustomed to know and love somehow didn’t apply anymore.

Even after therapy was concluded, Tom said I’d feel light headed and I was thinking, “Yeah, right.” And yet I swooned.

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Postscripts from a Curious Skeptic

My lower back though not healed, the daily hurt I have to contend with has lessened. And once the West Coast Walk is complete, I will return to the IMT Institute.

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YBD’s Notes 1: You can see the unknown if you have the courage to.

YBD’s Notes 2: Sorry Barb for using your butt as a learning lesson, but…

YBD’s Notes 3: I can’t thank Tom and Sharon and their staff enough for their time and patience throughout this process.

YBD’s Notes 4: Breaking Bad is one of the best serials ever and I now understand where Vince Gilligan got his inspiration from, philosophically and sartorially.

THE RIPPLE: A Tale of Two Towns Part 2

Malvern PA

Last week I posted a blog about Malvern AR as a study in contrasts between two places on my path.

This past weekend I was filming and interviewing the oncologists and staff and patients at Hope Veterinary Specialists, (from left to right; Tara, Dr. Craig Clifford, Tom, Katelyn & Claus von Shitz, the German Shepherd).

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This Our Story

It was enlightening, educational, inspirational, heartwarming and, in a few cases, heartbreaking. I gotta say, it’s a totally different experience being behind the lens instead of in front of it like I’m most used to. But that’s the reason that we have been filming hundreds of hours of footage since the Summer of Murphy tour. This isn’t just my story, it’s all of ours.

One of the stories I filmed Monday stands out and perfectly captures the experience. And it’s got a little of everything; firemen, dog rescues, British royalty, three different types of cancers, and the marvel of modern veterinary medicine.

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Meet Cammie

In 2008, she was found by firemen in the freezing cold with an inoperable Epulis, or oral tumor. One of the volunteers at the rescue made helping and healing her, her mission, and that’s Stacy, her mum.

Once it was deemed that resection wasn’t a treatment option, Cammie’s tumor underwent radiation under the care of Dr. Siobhan Haney. And while successful in stopping its growth, within a couple of months Cammie collapsed from a Stage 2 hemangiosarcoma.

Following a splenectomy and a course of chemo, Cammie responded well although a complication from the Epulis occurred. Radiation had killed the tumor but the necrotic tissue frequently became infected and had to be removed resulting in the loss of part of her lower jaw.

In the ensuing months a soft tissue sarcoma was discovered on her flank and a she underwent a second course of chemo. Three cancers and six years later, Cammie is happy, healthy, and a beauty to boot!

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Happy Endings

During the course of my interview with Stacy and Drs. Clifford and Siobhan I asked Cammie’s mum what message she had for pet parents who adopt dogs with costly, preexisting medical conditions and those going through cancer treatment for the first time.

Her response: “You need to believe in happy endings.” Indeed. We all do.

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YBD’s Notes 1: I like being behind the lens. The Canon camera was generously donated by Thunder for us to record Murphy’s battle with nasal cancer back in 2010 but as it became unbeatable, I had to turn the camera off. Maybe we weren’t meant to tell our own story unless it’s through that of others.

YBD’s Notes 2: Many thanks to Dennis, Craig, Kate, Siobhan and all of the rest of the crew at Hope VS for being both generous and accommodating with their time.

YBD’s Notes 3: I even got to interview my first feline cancer patient, Shadow. Me thinks we have to change the name of our organization to 2 Million Dogs and 1 cat.

YBD’s Notes 4: Oh, and Cammie got her name from Princess Camilla

THE RIPPLE: A Tale of Two Towns

Malvern AR. July 2008

Walking through so many southern states, it wasn’t always easy keeping hyperfocused on a singular mission of cancer especially since conditions in some places for animal welfare were deplorable and others, down and outright medieval.

I tried as best I could but there were a few encounters intolerable and I had to stand up even though it put my mission at risk.

The first was in Jacksonville TX a few months earlier than Malvern. We were scheduled to stay at the home of a kind elderly couple as we walked through the area and after the first day, I noticed a beautiful brindle pitbull in the backyard of a neighbors house chained to a fence and that her water bowl was upturned.

I made note of it and the following day, it remained still and unfilled. There’s no mathematical basis for measuring the generosity of a host family against a clear and present injustice. It wasn’t my neighbor, it wasn’t my town, and it wasn’t my cause.

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And Yet…

I assuaged our host family that my intention was to just inform the neighbors that their dog needed water since they shot down my original idea of just filling the bowl with water myself. Texans take trespassing seriously so I understood their objection.

After knocking on the neighbor’s door a few times, a big burly man at least 1.5 times my size in height and girth answered with a mean ass, menacing look.

“YEAH?”

“Excuse me, sir. I’m staying with some friends next door and I couldn’t help notice that your dog in the backyard hasn’t had water in the past 24 hours and it’s pretty hot outside…”.

“IT’S MY SON’S DOG”, he continued in a gruff, ‘seen-too-many-steven seagal movies-voice’.

“And yet, the dog still needs water.”

“LOOK HERE, THIS IS MY PROPERTY AND OUR DOG AND IT’S NO DAMN BUSINESS OF YOURS.”

At this point, his chest was bowed out and he was spoiling for a fight and I tried my best to keep circumspect, though my great growl was growing. “Look man, I no more want to be on your porch than you want me here. It doesn’t have to be this way. Just give your dog water and I’ll be gone. But I won’t until you do.”

Like a Warner Bros cartoon I could see steam venting from his ears (and hear the sound a train whistle). I thought I was gonna get cold cocked but instead he slammed the door in my face and I watched as he filled the water bowl.

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The Evil that People Do

Maybe that set the stage for Malvern. By the time we were just west of Little Rock, temperatures were running as high as solar flares it seemed and I walked most of the Delta to Memphis by myself.

I remember the day perfectly. As I was walking on east Hwy 67, I heard crying and yelping on my left. There was a overgrown, condemned looking house, yellow in color I think, about 100 yards off the highway and I fought back the pokeweed, briar brush and Mimosa tree branches to get to it. And what I found still breaks my heart.

A momma pitbull chained outside and a litter of pittie puppies on the inside begging to be with each other. You can see the momma’s paws on the window sill in the picture top left so I’ll spare you the visual descriptive. No one should be haunted by an image such as that.

I couldn’t do anything at the time for them. It was just me and my backpack so I bade them goodbye with a promise that I would return and rescue them. And I did the very next day. As soon as I was picked up by Melissa, our transport to our next host family, I said to her, “We have a stop to make first.”

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The Evil That Good Undo

I was such a naif back then, unworldly caught up unintentionally and unexpectedly in the deep and dark underworld of dogfighting. I’d never heard of terms like ‘bait dogs’ until that day when Melissa and I pulled them out of that nightmare just as a group of men came out of a nearby trailer to stop us.

We tore outta there with all of the pitpups in a cardboard box and momma in my lap and I think my middle finger found its way out the window though I may be glorifying it a bit.

Miles later, Melissa explained to me that we weren’t rescuing dogs in distress – we were stealing them. Dogs bought and sold like slave trade for the sole purpose of fighting for entertainment. I had a lot of questions but they weren’t going to be answered that day. Maybe they still haven’t been.

How can one steal a life trying to protect it? How can one even claim ownership to a life?

In the Merchant of Venice, Shakespeare wrote, ‘To do a great right, do a little wrong.’

I’m nothing of a Shakespearean quote but I could not let a great wrong go unrighted.

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YBD’s Notes 1: Part 2 of A Tale of Two Towns Coming up – Malvern PA. Spending time at Hope Veterinary Specialists this weekend. Or Sweaty Tom’s pits.

YBD’s Notes 2: All of the pitbull puppies we rescued that day found homes.

YBD’s Notes 3: Thanks Melissa

The Circle Just

The other day I posted on Facebook about winding things down in New England in preparation for Walk 2 and that moving on isn’t the hardest part for an adventurer, it’s the leaving behind. But that’s only mostly right.

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The Shannon Door

Ironically enough this was the first restaurant I ate at in North Conway NH with our dear friends Donna & Larry and it was where we ended up Wednesday night.

That’s them with their niece, Christina, and Jim the ball busting bartender that makes the waitstaff at Dick’s Last Resort look like Disney workers. He’s a good kid and infinitely entertaining though he makes girly drinks.

I had hoped to get some exercise up in the White Mountains and man did my wish come true though not like I anticipated. The accumulation of snow and ice was so steep on their driveway Larry drove his plow into the bank not once but twice and we had to dig it out both times.

Heck I’m just a simple man from Texas and I started to think this is some strange sport up here…. Some folks down south canoodle catfish, some wrestle gators, but up here drive your truck in the ditch then dig it out. I was ready to break out the Foreman Grill and the Brats and beer.

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Sea Glass

When I spent my first week in Newport this past year, Valerie convinced me to go to Fort Adams for what seemed like picking up trash. I’m all about beautifying the world we live in but it was brutal cold and dowsing wet sand didn’t seem like a productive use of my time. Even after I uncovered a handful or two I still didn’t get it.

Some fellas at a frat party in Australia, say, threw beer bottles in the ocean decades ago and I’m collecting the shards. Still, there was something storied I found in the sea glass and their ill-lustered beauty. I made a bracelet for Valerie in memory of her Max out of them to thank her for hosting the fuzzybutts and I this past year. But it wasn’t easy.

Six drill bits later and two deep puncture wounds to my thumb, I finally figured it out and finished it tonight.

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We’ve had a warm and wonderful send off as we start heading down south tomorrow and god willing, the three of us will all be back up here in November. But it’s more than just moving on and leaving behind. It’s that you can’t travel with.

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YBD’s Notes 1: I’ve been inviting a few friends and colleagues to come out to the west coast and walk with us if even for a week. I think it’ll make the experience that much fuller and richer…

YBD’s Notes 2: Andre the Frikkin Giant. Really?

Love Is

Since Murphy, Buddy, Pete, and a whole host of other mates of mine died from cancer since walk 1 ended, I think most of what I’ve written since has come from pain and loss. But today, I write about what love is….

Love is Brotherhood (and sisterhood though only boys allowed in our tent)

Love is serving the Almighty Lint Brush

Love is sharing Maine lobster with a salivating mate even when you don’t want to

Love is a sandy tequila sunrise with El Guapo (pistola in hand)

Love is a Long Island field of lavender that you wish everyone can experience

Love is friends you meet momentarily but their impression remains for a lifetime. (And love is for men in kilts – ello luv – u look lively in a skirt)