Just beyond the group campsite was a major
stream crossing that could be very hazardous if the water were any higher. Fortunately,
I didn’t have to wade through the water as there were enough big boulders to
hop across, but a misstep would be hard to recover from, as the fast-flowing
water dropped steeply down the mountainside.
At noon, I came upon Lava Springs, an incredible
spring that bubbled out from underneath a bed of lava boulders. The trail
builders built a retaining wall to impound the water and it was a most pleasant
place to stop and relax. I dare say that the crystal-clear water gushing
forth from this spring is the coldest and best-tasting water on the whole
Pacific Crest Trail.
As I approached a road crossing, I encountered
three men heading down the trail, who, at first glance were scary looking; they
were men with full bushy black beards who carried no backpacks, no water
bottles, no tools, no fishing rods; my first impression of these three was they
were like unto the hill people in the movie Deliverance ;
where they were going, or what they were up to, I couldn’t venture to say.
I crossed the road and saw three vehicles in a
trailhead parking lot; I assumed that one or more of the vehicles belonged to
the three men. Off to one side of the parking lot was a van with its side
door open, and in a camp chair beside the open door was a woman who introduced
herself as trail angel Sage Girl.
I asked her if she’d seen the three men who had
just passed me and she said she hadn’t; nevertheless, I felt impressed to
caution her about the presence of these men. A lone woman in a remote
location in the wilderness with three unsavory characters in the vicinity might
not have a pleasant outcome. Sage Girl offered me a cold drink, which I
gladly accepted, and moved on up the trail.
There was a lot of up and down hiking today,
which was extremely difficult for me. I could barely shuffle along, and
even going downhill was difficult without resting. I’m concerned that I’m
having heart and/or breathing difficulty and am quite worried about the
situation. At one point along the trail, Brownie finally caught up with
me and found me standing in the middle of the trail, bent over with my head
resting on my trekking poles, which was common for me to do whenever I needed
to rest.
He asked me if I was okay. Being a little emotional
because of my weakened physical condition, I let slip a couple of tears as I
told him I thought I might be having heart problems.
I could tell that’s not what Brownie wanted to
hear, even though he asked me if there was anything he could do for me. I
told him I had heart medication to take which seemed to relieve his concerns
for me. I could tell he didn’t want to be stuck with someone who might be
having a heart attack, and after he passed on by, I felt bad that I had said
anything to him. But the bottom line is, I need to be out of the
wilderness; there’s something going on with my internal apparatus besides my
heart.
As a side note, when I returned home from my
five-month journey, I immediately went to see my cardiologist and discussed
with him the great difficulty I had had in walking the trail. I mentioned
to him what I had read online about the side effects of heart ablations – where
the valves in the heart could be damaged, causing a shortness of breath.
He was aware of my concerns and suggested I have an MRI of my chest –
specifically, my heart and lungs, to see if there was anything he had missed.
Following the MRI, my cardiologist reviewed the
scans with me and said he saw no abnormalities with the heart and lungs, but he
did discover a slight hiatal hernia, which he said should be checked out by a
gastroenterologist – a specialist in the body’s digestive system.
The gastroenterologist, upon reviewing the
scans, confirmed the presence of the hernia and said this condition could well
be the source of my breathing difficulties; he likened it to acid reflux.
He continued his explanation by saying that acid from the stomach,
because of the hernia, could now move upward into the esophagus – the food
tube, and down into the lungs via the trachea or the windpipe causing
inflammation of the bronchial tubes, resulting in an asthmatic-like condition
or shortness of breath. His recommendation for treatment was
medication that would reduce the acidity of the stomach. He gave me a
prescription for Omeprazole and said to come back in two months.
Towards the end of the two months, I began
walking in the steep foothills behind my home, to see if the medication was
having the desired effect. It did; I can now walk up the steepest hills
without the slightest hindrance in breathing. If only I had known this
before I started the hike, one pill a day would have made such a difference.
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