A Conundrum

We spent a rest day at my sister-in-law Connie’s house, preparing for our hike of the Washington section of the PCT. This is the most remote, rugged section of trail. I figure if we complete this section we’re golden. One consequence of this remote section will be my likely inability to post for awhile. This is in addition to my phone being out of order since the dampness caused by the cloudburst we experienced.

The Oregon Phase of this hike got us into good shape. Cindy can hike faster than 3 mph with a full pack on smooth trail (though we keep her “full pack” pretty light). When slack packing she has topped 3.5 mph, once again as long as there are good trail conditions.

There has been an unusual pattern between the alternating full packing and slack packing stretches we have done, a conundrum of sorts. When carrying a full pack Cindy has not complained of any physical affliction except for fatigue, up until two days ago. However, when slack packing she invariably complains of head and shoulder pain, even though she does not carry a pack.

Cindy always is quick to point out the pain is not from hiking, but rather from a car accident she was in long ago. I suspect the pain is more psychological than real for a few reasons, the lack of a pack being one of them. The complaints coming more near the beginning of a day is another. Then there is a third reason that surfaced during our road walk in Oregon.

The road walk was north of Olallie Lake, because the Forest Service closed a section of trail due to a forest fire. Cindy was a hiking demon for most of that 25 mile day, particularly on the pavement. I’ve always been faster than Cindy going uphill, even when carrying a heavier pack. Cindy also instinctively follows me unless I encourage her to lead. However, on the pavement towards the end of the road walk she passed me going uphill as if possessed. On the whole we averaged over 3 mph for the whole day. As a side note, I got to admire her stride again, with the back of her heels hardly touching the pavement.

Yet on one part of the road walk Cindy did not fare so well. This was on a shaded woods road with a soft dirt surface that normally would be a hiker’s dream. She actually slowed down during this stretch and made a few comments questioning whether we should go on. After the woods road ended she saw a sign that she took for meaning we would hike on another woods road and she gave a look of anguish. When I informed her we would be hiking on pavement instead, something that would make most thru-hikers groan, she expressed relief. It was during this idyllic woods road section that her head hurt.

Adding to this conundrum is a delusion she revealed. She stopped hiking on the woods road and started looking around her feet. I asked her what was up. Her reply:

“The girls often leave things in their bed and I find them here.”

That woods road came the closest to emulating a walk in the New England woods out of anything we have experienced so far. Did that familiarity set off her delusion? Do delusions cause her head to hurt?

So many questions with Alzheimer’s; so little answers. Fortunately, the answers for hiking are straight forward. We ought to know the answer to whether Cindy gets her Triple Crown by the end of the Washington section.