Everything has a price

Yesterday I got back out into the Sandias, this time on the south side.  Lots of pine, lots of juniper, lots of rocks.  Some switchbacks, but not too bad.  I only had to stop to relieve cardio-pulmonary distress a few times!  It was nice to have some trees, but it's still New Mexico.  The dusty-spicy pine smell had no hint of moisture to it, and where in Oregon there would have been streams, here there were dry,  rocky creek beds.

Oh, I lie, there was also this Waterfall!

You don't see the water?  well, it's there.  sorta.

The pace my companions wanted was just about right for me, too.  And all in all, it was a good hike, until we started the downward slope.  I was doing fine with the scree and the occasional boulder, I thought, but then my foot slid and I landed, patella first, on a rock.  You know how sudden pain makes you queasy?  I sat there, holding my knee, breathing in, breathing out, while the others stood around.  I felt moisture on my hand and realized I was bleeding.  B pulled out a bandaid, and G offered water and ibuprofen.  I said thanks to the former, and no to the latter, and pulled up the pant leg to assess the damage:  a straight small, deep cut, starting to well up with dark red blood.  Fortunately, the pants were not ripped, and there was no obvious dirt.  I blotted the blood, applied the bandaid, and got to my feet. We had another 45 minutes to an hour to go.

The hike remained lovely.  We stopped at the cave for me to convert my hiking pants to shorts and apply a new bandaid that would not be rubbed off as I walked.  S took some pix of the "Travertine Waterfall," and as we walked on, we pondered:  just what IS travertine?  I dimly recalled seeing travertine tiles when I was doing my remodel, but couldn't remember much but that it's a stone.  Duh.   (I looked it up later in the car, but suffice it to say, we were all wrong in our guesses.)

We stopped again for a water break, and looked for fossils in the rocks.  Mainly they were unremarkable dots and specks, paleolithic bugs.  Neat though.  Then, towards the end of the hike, we re-passed the spiral and cairn that I had spotted on the way up.  The light was much better for photographs at this point;  late afternoon is always my favorite time for photographing rocks.

l have a new pedometer, from the StepItUp Albuquerque program at work.  So I can say, definitively, that we walked 12,861 steps, or 6.48 miles.

The cut started bleeding on the drive back to G's, and he was unhappy that his pack did not have the requisite first aid supplies.  Spring is the time to get the gear back in order, but you usually try to do that before the accidents.  He also said, "next time I'm making you take the hiking pole," and he's going to loan me a 3-liter water pack in addition to my little water bottle.  So, there will be a next time at least.  And even though I'm a liability as a friend and hiking partner, it seems that these three think I'm worth it.

When I got home, finally, I cleaned off the sweat/salt from the hike and put neosporin on the cut.  It was still oozing blood, and I freaked out and called L (my medical expert sister.)  She was mainly concerned with tetanus, ("You know you should have a current shot, don't you?"), but otherwise was a soothing presence in my ear.  I bandaged it up, cancelled on the potluck I had planned to attend, and got out a good book for the rest of the day.

Yes, it doesn't look like much

Today the cut has scabbed over, but the patellar area is very sore:  I may have bruised the bone.  The flesh doesn't seem to be the problem, and there isn't much flesh there anyway.  This is frustrating:  now that I have hiking partners, I want to HIKE!  And we have a nice one planned for next Sunday.  Grrrr.

I hate limping around.  I hate being pitiful.  I wish it were possible to just do things without fallout and pain.  Why can't I just enjoy what I have without paying some sort of price?  But, right now, that seems to be my life.  Losing balance, losing friends, once step forward, 2 steps back, and a big ass pain in the patella.

Harrumph.