boats · camping · canoe · paddling

Sam and Sarah went canoe tripping and weren’t eaten by bears

My Facebook status from Sunday night reads, “Driving home, with a heart full of memories of a special place, canoe strapped to roof of the car, listening to Tragically Hip. #PeakCanadian #Killarney

There’s something special about back country camping in the autumn. Yes, it can be cold. And it’s dark early and that restricts how much you can paddle. But the colours are spectacular. The parks are less crowded. I also find there’s something extra special (and maybe I confess, just a little bit sad) about that last gasp of outdoors holidays. Though I am trying to tell new stories these days, I’m a person who finds the fall just a little bit sad. Paddling helps, so too does sleeping in a tent under the stars.

I went canoe camping thirteen years ago in the fall with my friend Laura: Camp Dragon with Laura 2006 . That was even later in the season, mid October, definitely cold and dark but bright with the orange, yellow, and red leaves.

I got my own canoe for back country exploring and camping four years ago. But lately other boats have been taking up my time. I know “too many boats” isn’t really a thing to complain about but I have been missing my canoe. Last year I didn’t get out canoe camping at all. We had booked a Killarney trip but that fell through for complicated reasons. See Jeff’s series of posts on running aground. We got a day trip in but that was it. I was worried this year was going to be the same. This year we’ve been racing the Snipe on Guelph lake. And I’ve also been visiting the big sailboat some weekends too. But no canoe trips in June, July or August.

All summer I’ve been looking forward to getting out in the canoe and it finally happened this past weekend. It was a quick trip but that’s okay. It was beautiful and restful and I’d go back in a heart beat. I mentioned the fall colours, right? So beautiful. Bright red leaves against the white rocks look extra special.

What else to tell you? I got to try my very first lift-over. That’s when you run into a beaver dam with your canoe, get out, lift the canoe over the dam, and get back in again. I was nervous about it because of my bad knee and was worried about getting out the canoe in those circumstances. This was an ideal time to try since there was an alternative on the map, an extra long portage. But we did it. My knee behaved just fine. Thanks knee!

We also tried out some new lightweight gear which made it possible for us to do the portages in one trip. Sarah took one pack and the canoe. I carried the other, heavier pack that contained our food, as well as the PFDs and the paddles. We declared the new tent and sleeping pad a success and it gave us hope for longer trips even with more food. By the end we were feeling ready for bigger adventures even with my misbehaving left knee.

I was amused at all the bear signage in the park. I’m always surprised that people need reminding that there are bears in Canada. There were even signs warning us that the bears were back for the fall. I didn’t even know they went anywhere for the summer. In the end, we didn’t see any bears–phew!–but we did have a trio of trash pandas (aka, raccoons) hop up on the bench besides us and grab our food bag. They made off with all the food (except snacks) for the weekend. I screamed but Sarah, more sensibly, took off after them and got our food back. My hero!

Our trip involved three lakes–George, Killarney, and OSA–one pond, three portages, and one liftover, lots and lots of paddling. We were lucky with warm days and nights, highs in the low 20s and overnight lows still well in the double digits. The day we paddled out was very rainy and windy but we were just very happy that there was no thunder and lightening and we didn’t have to hunker down and stay put.

Here’s a lot of photos from our trip. Sarah brought a real camera so we took lots of pictures.

fitness

Silencing your inner critics: making friends with your saboteurs

(Content warning for a small amount of negative self-talk about weight and food).

“I just tried to not let myself go into my head, not listen to those voices that would throw me off.” (A friend talking about staying grounded while doing a performance that wasn’t landing).

And yet, even when I would be finishing 3 hours of high intensity spinning, with energy still left to burn, there was still a part of me that figured that many of the “natural athletes” in the room secretly knew I didn’t belong.” (Nicole, writing about imposter syndrome in a post for this blog a couple of weeks ago).

We all know those inner voices. Sometimes they replay an actual experience from some point in our life — one of mine is a flashback to a guy snottily commenting on how they should “only let fit people on this hike” when I had a hard time climbing up a boulder on a nature walk at a provincial park. Sometimes they’re an amalgam of cultural voices — “sure you can lift 150lbs but you still look like a sausage in that dress, you’re not really fit.” And sometimes they’re a whole carnival we’ve created and perfected that replays until it’s almost an automatic loop.

I’m currently doing a formal certification program for coaching (life and work coaching, not sports), and learning to work with this inner chorus is a big part of our process. In my program, this set of voices is called our “saboteur” — the negative self talk that can show up when you’re trying to change something that matters to you — but that might challenge the “safety” of the status quo. I prefer to use the term one of my friends coined — the “committee of jerks in my head.”

I like labeling these voices jerks, because that’s what they are. They are like those muppet guys in the balcony who sit there criticizing and complaining about everything — the ones who aren’t exposing themselves or putting themselves at risk, just sitting on the sidelines throwing things.

When I’m working with clients and I hear statements like “I’m not as good at this as other people” or “I’m not the kind of person who could be that brave,” I hear a mental “click” that tells me there might be a saboteur at work. Most of the time, saboteurs are linked to pretty deep stuff — our deepest fears about our capability, lovability, fear of being alone. And they help us stay in the places where we might feel unhappy, but we feel safe because it’s familiar.

Learning to befriend our inner critics is deep stuff. In my coaching and consulting I do a lot of exploring and expanding different perspectives, encouraging people to actually talk back. One way that works for me personally is to be playful with it. Trying to hear your inner self-talk as coming out of the voice of the critical muppets is one way — you can then hold it at arm’s length, see it as something that doesn’t have to be a fixed, intimate part of you. See it as the meme it is — something glib that shows up that you don’t have to give real credibility.

Another thing I personally do is to picture my inner critic — the one who’s always trying to trip me up — is to picture it as a baby hedgehog that’s trying to get under my feet. I made a photo of a baby hedgehog my phone wallpaper for a while — reminding myself that I didn’t have to keep internalizing the fear that was constantly showing up for me, but I could see it as some external being I could have more control over. It’s actually a cuddly little thing trying to protect me — but I can hold it in my hand, be grateful that I’m being reminded that being where I am is “safe,” but I want something different. It actually works.

I was thinking about saboteurs in the gym the other day, thinking about all of the voices over my life that have made me feel like I didn’t belong there — I’m not a natural athlete, I’m a klutz, I’m fat, I’m slow, I eat too much junk, I can’t translate verbal instructions into physical action, nobody wants me here, nobody likes me.. Fill in your own self-talk here. And then imagine it as a curmudgeonly muppet or a baby hedgehog. And see if that changes anything.

What do you do to silence your inner critics?

Fieldpoppy is Cate Creede, who lives, works and talks to muppets in Toronto.

218 in 2018 · 219 in 2019 · fitness

How challenges challenge me, and why I’m a convert

I used to scorn and dismiss fitness challenges. I even wrote about it for the blog: The Challenging Challenge of Challenges. But then, I read this post on 366 days of Yoga. Laura, one of our guest bloggers, wrote honestly about her challenges:

My practice still was not easy. My progress was slow. I continued to struggle with both mental and physical yoga demons. And I often despaired that my body was just too old now, too out of shape. I feared I was “over the hill” and would never get back what I had lost. But I kept showing up. I kept rolling out my mat every day, getting on it, and doing the practice.

Reading this opened up for me the possibility that the d.. d… d… disc-i-pline (this is such a hard word to say, much less do) of every day movement practice would become a part of me, a treat, a haven, a reward, a pleasure in itself.

This is the thing that hits me in the gut: the idea of committing to a daily something-or-other that never ENDS. That’s never DONE.

It feels like those really long staircases that you see in various places around the world.

Some people (who are these people?) look at all those stairs and think, “oh fun! I’m going to tackle them and get to the top!” When I look at a lot of stairs, I worry. I get anxious. I proactively feel tired. They don’t motivate me, energize me, mobilize me, inspire me. They just make me feel ashamed that (hypothetically, as I haven’t even taken one step yet) I will be:

  • too slow
  • too sweaty
  • too tired
  • too weak
  • too scared
  • too alone

to enjoy the (too far away to even imagine them) pleasures at the top.

I decided to do the 218 Challenges in 2018 because a bunch of the bloggers were doing it, and I wanted the support and the push to be more self-aware of my physical activity. I wrote about my process and finish (on Dec 30, 2018) here: 218 in 2018: Today’s the day! Sam wrote about her finish that year, too: 218 in 2018: Achievement unlocked with a week to spare! Cate’s post yesterday, Workout #250 for 2019, about her journey through challenges, spurred me on to write about how this year’s challenge is going for me.

This year, doing the 219 in 2019 challenge, I feel like I have the mental space to think about what life is like in the process of climbing all those stairs. Sometimes I do feel weak or scared or tired or slow (and usually sweaty, too). And I am doing it myself, for me alone.

A woman with a pink bag, climbing a long staircase by herself.
A woman with a pink bag, climbing a long staircase by herself.

The challenge, though, offers me another viewpoint on that staircase. Although I’m in charge of getting to the top myself, there are others walking on that same staircase, on their way up and down. I can:

  • keep going up with them
  • stop and take a few breaths
  • talk with others on the way up
  • pick up my pace
  • ask people on their way down how far it is to the top
  • ask for help
  • decide to stop and head back down
People walking up and down a long staircase.
People walking up and down a long staircase.

I like this way of thinking about challenges. I can go at my own pace, and when I need a hand, it’s there for the asking.

A woman going up a long staircase, pulling another person by the hand.
A woman going up a long staircase, pulling another person by the hand.

There’s another challenge I’m a part of– a September is for Yoga challenge, run by our blogger Christine. Like the 219 in 2019 challenge, we get to decide what counts as doing yoga that day, and we can post about it (or not) on our FB page. When we do post, Christine gives us a gold star. For whatever we post– successes, attempts, emoting, whatever– we get one. And who doesn’t love a gold star?

Back to my original fear about challenges: the daily practice, the commitment to doing something every day, engaging in a process that doesn’t end, but rather continues ad infinitum.

Turns out, I need help with follow-through, with maintaining consistency and continuity of process. I need help when life’s vicissitudes are visited on me through injury, overwork, family crisis, anxiety, etc. In those times I need support around adjusting practices, suspending them (to resume in changed ways later on), or persisting in them, being reminded that they are part of the solution, not the problem.

Challenges do that for me. At least these do. They help me do the physical activity I want, all by myself, with them, any day I want, for as long as I want.

Readers, what are you current views about challenges? Do you like them? Avoid them? What made them work for you? What made them not work for you? We’d really love to hear your stories.

fitness

Workout #250 for 2019

Sam, Catherine, Susan, Tracy and I are all participating in facebook groups to track our workouts for the year, with the goal of hitting 219 in 2019. This is my third year doing it, and I’ve written about it many times — exploring what “counts” as well as the impact of counting and accountability.

Last Tuesday, I hit #250 for 2019 (a noontime #getstrong class, benchpress day) — and it made me pause and reflect on how profound the impact of participating in this group has been for me. I used to be a person who worked out a lot, but I think my default setting was day-without-a-workout and then I sprinkled in runs, spinning and yoga classes and trips to the gym, probably working out three times most weeks, if I’m honest. Now, I’m someone who works out pretty much every day, unless something significant happens to stop me. And that happened in less than two years.

Over those two and a half years, I’ve really tried to define what “counts” for me. It’s a very imprecise science, but here’s where I’ve landed: any episode of sustained physical activity that isn’t what I would normally do in my day. Riding my bike 5km to a meeting doesn’t typically count, because I would do it regardless — but riding my bike in the rain or cold, or to a meeting that’s unusually far away, does. (If I have a medium long commute, I’ll add some yoga or planks or something to make it feel like a set of activities). For the most part, I count one episode of activity as one “unit,” whether it’s 20 minutes of low key yoga or an 8 hour, 150 km bike ride. I believe it all evens out. (I also have an arcane system of half points, usually applied to something like a short self-guided yoga session or after dinner walk that I didn’t really feel like doing but made myself do. I give myself points for getting off my butt when I didn’t want to even if the actual output wasn’t particularly intense).

I know — it’s wacky — but it works for me. And even though I’ve been a person who works out regularly for 24 years, it has transformed my relationship with moving my body.

My first year doing the group — 217 in 2017 — I worked hard to get to 217, finally hitting it on Christmas day, then doing a few “bonus” workouts for the year. I felt pretty pleased with myself. Last year, after working out every day in July, I realized I could aim for 300 — and ended up at 302. This year, I’m well poised to surpass 300 — although I don’t really have a refined goal — maybe 325? (350 seems punitive and like it would lead to me not having enough rest).

Across the past year or so, there are literally only a handful of days where I just shrugged and didn’t work out at all because I “didn’t feel like it” — the days I’ve “missed” I’ve been sick, or traveling, or literally working 14 hours. There are almost no days where I haven’t grabbed at least a pre-bed 30 minutes for a quick 20 minute run or Yoga with Adriene. Now I have a little inner question mark of “what will you do today?” — not “what days this week might you be able to work out?”

Theory in action: this Thursday, I facilitated a huge, all day, complicated meeting in Ottawa. I had to be onsite at 7, then had to fly home later that night. The day before, I squished a 5 k run in between arriving and diving into prep, then the day of the meeting, at lunch, I put on my training shoes and marched briskly around a two bridge loop on the Ottawa river. It was a gorgeous day, with the parliament buildings right behind me (looking reassuringly solid despite the messy chaos of the news of the day — although I see that the wind made a haystack of my hair, lol). In the past, I might have managed the run, but never both the run and the 7 km walk.

I don’t take selfies of every workout, but looking at the ones I do have over the year, it’s a pretty amazing reel of me moving my body and moving through my life: running around my neighbourhood, and in Australia, Uganda, Lithuania and the south of France… yoga poses where I’m going deep into strength and stillness… hiking in Iceland with my niece, near Algonquin park, and in Newfoundland… stand up paddle boarding with my neighbour… riding my bike in Lithuania, Newfoundland and in the last leg ever of the Triadventure, which has been part of my life for so long… learning to lift heavy weights for the first time in my life in the feminist gym down the block that feels like such a powerful gift. The images are a kind of journal, and they’re a ribbon of affirmation: I am strong. I can move through my life with grace and power. I can make choices every day that feed my health, my mind and my soul.

What we actually do in our “219 in 2019” accountability group is simple: we list what workout we did and what number it is. There’s a bit of discussion and encouragement of each other, but mostly it’s just a record. But the impact of it on my life has been profound.

What kinds of simple habits have transformed your relationship with movement?

Fieldpoppy is Cate Creede, who lives and moves her body in Toronto. She writes for this blog once a week.

fitness

Where’s my discount? Sam wonders why seniors get special treatment

I confess I was prepared for it, the dreaded seniors’ discount. But also, thrifty me says “yay,” seniors’ discount.

Years earlier, at the St. Mary’s quarry, my friend Rob had been given the seniors’ discount. We all laughed. We were shocked. But it turns out, it starts there at 50. Wow!

We were still thinking 50 was the new 40, not the new 65.

And then on sabbatical in New Zealand, a local cinema started the seniors’ discount at 50. I wouldn’t want to be the one making judgements about who to ask for that one.

So far though I’d been skating under the “potential senior” radar.

But this April that ended. I posted to Facebook, “Are you shopping at Shoppers Drug Mart today for any particular reason? OMG. Funniest way ever to ask if I qualify for the seniors discount. First time ever anywhere! Must be dean-ing!”

Turns out it’s 55. They were a few months early but not by much.

Lots of places, I’ve since found out, start the seniors’ discount at 55. See the Y ad below which turned up in my newsfeed after my birthday. It’s in London though, not Guelph. Guelph doesn’t appear to have a seniors rate at the Y.

I was just chatting with a friend about seniors’ discounts that start at 50 or 55. We both want the discount but hardly identify with “senior.” My son said the same is true with “youth” pricing. He doesn’t feel particularly youthful some days. I like his suggestion of “alternative adult” to cover both “seniors” and “youth.”

But why do we get a discount anyway? I’m not retired and I won’t be for some time. In fact, I’m earning more than I ever have. I plan to work for another ten years or so. For the case against see here.

“On average, citizens who earn the most money and have the most net wealth are 50 and over. So why is it this group that’s entitled to discounts at the movies, supermarkets, hotels, and nearly everywhere else you turn, while the young and poor pay full price?” From Why seniors don’t deserve a discount.

Whatever you think of them, here’s a relatively up-to-date guide to Seniors discounts in Canada.

What do you think of seniors’ discounts? Looking forward to getting them?

fitness

SOAP: Not just for bathtime!

by MarthaFitat55

Inspired by Catherine’s piece on creating a SOAP note for herself as a cyclist, I decided that almost six years after making a decision to train regularly and cultivate functional fitness as an ongoing goal, I too should write a SOAP note for myself.

First a quick recap. Catherine describes a SOAP note thusly:

“It’s a method that health care providers use to write notes on a patient’s medical record. SOAP stands for Subjective, Objective, Assessment, and Plan. Roughly it involves getting a description from the patient about their current condition, noting the results of observation, testing and physical examination of the patient, offering some suggestions about diagnosis and possible causes of current problem, and finally a plan for treatment. Sounds like a reasonable system to me.”

And it is. I found it an enlightening exercise and one I plan to share with my trainer as we look to the year ahead.

Subjective

  • 58 year old female presents today for an evaluation of powerlifting practice
  • Reports she has been weight training for almost six years and would like to improve her overall flexibility now that core strength has improved significantly
  • Self-identified strengths include willingness to learn, general upper and lower body strength, overall comfort with cardio exercises, adaptability to home-based modifications,
  • Self-identified weaknesses include lack of comfort with complicated exercises, fear of reinjuring hypermobile hip joints, and concerns with impact on fitness level and consistency in practice due to gaps in training

Objective

  • Head – is capable of understanding complex directions when she practices patience and increases focus
  • Eyes – tends to carry out certain movements with eyes closed to minimize distractions and to avoid chalk dust; notes she recognizes that this can be a barrier re addressing safety concerns
  • Ears – listens to trainer, tries to block the sounds of others in the gym to increase focus
  • Lungs – has tendency to exercise-induced asthma when working out in cold weather (includes brisk walks in winter when going uphill)
  • Heart – in great shape for 58 but recognizes more cardio would be of benefit for overall heart-lung function
  • MSK (musculoskeletal) – can deadlift with ease 175lb (3X) (Personal Best 231 lbs) and can squat a weight between 175 and 200 lbs fairly confidently although fears of hip reinjury can interfere with progress; core strength has improved significantly based on progress with increasingly complex planks
  • Neuro – plans approach for lifts and squats, is able to self assess areas which need tweaking, has adopted techniques to address attention and focus
  • Psych – gets anxious about losing ground when off for recovery or when trying something totally new

Assessment

  • Powerlifter: past beginner level and approaching intermediate skill level, more than ready to advance to greater skills and weights with commitment to a consistent routine
  • Human: knowledgeable of options available; needs to increase confidence by recognizing existing skills and strengths developed in the past six years

Plan

  • Continue to weight train
  • Identify new goals for the coming year
  • Establish routine for maintaining/ adding complementary activities such as swimming and walking to support cardio development and yoga to support flexibility
  • Implement safety check to reduce/eliminate fears about certain exercises
  • Remember to always stand up
  • Have fun

Have any of you readers decided to create a SOAP note? Let us know in the comments!

fitness

The stories our skin tells: Stretch marks, scars, and tattoos (reblog, #tbt)

Thinking again about wrinkles, stretch marks, scars, and ink.

fitness · Guest Post

Don’t take my vibe for granted (Guest post)

by Nicole Plotkin

It is not easy to be grateful all the time.  Even with the best intentions. For all the things you may love about someone or something, it is human nature to become complacent now and then.  I think it’s worth recognizing opportunities for gratitude.   

For the past 2 and a half years, I’ve been going to a small women’s strength and conditioning studio (Move Fitness Club).  I have always been attracted to smaller, “boutique”-style workout studios. I like the community feel and the inclusive nature I have experienced in these places.  I have tried over the years to take advantage of the lower corporate rate at the bigger gyms, trying to be fiscally responsible. But every time I tried this, whether as an alternative to spinning regularly at Quad East, or practicing yoga and kettlebell at Spirit Loft, my visit to the bigger gyms always resulted in me having a greater appreciation for the vibe at the smaller clubs. 

As with anything you love, when you do it regularly, you might find yourself taking it for granting every once in a while.  Yesterday, was one of those times. The awesome new place where I work, organized a group spin at the bigger gym nearby. First of all, I LOVE that the place I work organized this in the middle of the afternoon.  And I definitely got my butt kicked in the class. But the vibe the instructor was trying set, quickly made me appreciate the wonderful coaches at Move, former and current. 

I have experienced a wide range of spin instructors over the years.  There is a rare instructor who knows how to inspire you, without LECTURING. Without talking about how much weight they’ve lost over the years since they started spinning.  Without saying that what you are doing in spin class will let you eat whatever you want the rest of the day (terrible message!). Without reminding you, while you are spinning, how many calories are in a bag of chips (really, I had no idea!).  Without assuming that this is the one time you’ve moved your body this week and she is the only one who is going to set you straight. That if you are not working hard enough in this class, you are not setting yourself up for success the rest of the day.  This woman squeezed all the unhealthy messages that I try to stray away from in the short 45 minute class.  

Again, I sweated my butt off and I loved that this was an option in my regular workday.  I would take the opportunity again, should it arise. But I will also appreciate the vibe at Move with fresh eyes, or Torq or wherever else I go, where their fitness philosophy more properly aligns with my own.

I love that at Move, the coaches start off each workout asking how everyone feels.  They encourage us at each class to be as strong as we want to be that day, and that by doing so we are badass. There is no talk of weight, except for what’s loaded onto our barbells.  The only mention of food, is to make sure we re-fuel with something nourishing (with protein!), within 30 minutes of class. Their mission is to make us sweat, while listening to energizing beats (my classic rock heart wouldn’t mind a bit more of that now and then) and making each other smile as much as possible.  I am grateful to have this type of place in my life, and for the reminder(s), to appreciate it!


Nicole Plotkin: law clerk, loves to exercise, eat good food, snuggle with her dogs, and her wonderful husband. 

fitness

How you find us, by search terms

Since the early days of the blog I’ve been amused by the search terms that have led people to the blog. See my post on naked feminist trampolining. Thanks to Google we get a report of what words people put into the search box that result in them clicking on a link to us.

Often they’re awful . See from the last 7 days: secret crouch pics, candid teen panty , hairy up skirt pictures, and so on.

Often they’re sad. See from the last 7 days: i hate my old menopausal body, calories burned goodlife newbody, will i ever get my pre baby body back.

But these days, more and more, our people are finding us!

Three of you found us by searching ” fit feminist fifty.” Yay! Welcome!

One of you found us searching, ” women aikido sexism.”

A bunch of you are still menstruating in your 50s and found us by searching those years and terms.

Two of you wanted to know if “christy brinkley has osteoporosis.”

I like also finding ” accepting mid 60’s body changes ” in the search terms. Hello!

Anyway, so nice that you’re all finding the blog. Welcome to everyone! Including the person who found us while searching for ” oppression vs privilege.” That’s a bit broad for us but I am sure we have things to say.

The Library of Congress
Disco star ride, Seaside Heights, New Jersey (LOC)

Margolies, John,, photographer.
 
Disco star ride, Seaside Heights, New Jersey
 
1978.
hiking · holidays · nature · traveling

Trekking in the Pyrenees, and not trekking in the Pyrenees

Last week I finally got my summer holiday. I really had to wait for it this year, but September did finally come! My partner and I went to northern Spain, where he’s from. We spent some days with family and friends, but we also spent three days hiking in the Pyrenees. In total, it was a five-day adventure because we needed to factor in two extra days to get there and back by public transport. As the owner of a hostel we stayed at put it, “people think there’s a motorway out here connecting everything, but that’s not quite the case”. I would say it’s definitely not the case. There’s one bus a day from the nearest larger city in each direction, if you’re lucky, and it meanders along curvy mountain roads, stopping at every village along the way. It was exactly what we wanted: to have some “us time”, just the two of us, in nature.

a horizontal white bar above a red one, painted on a tree.
GR11 signage: a horizontal white bar above a red one, painted on a tree.
a pole with arrow-shaped wooden signs pointing in different directions saying "GR11" and the names of different villages.
More GR 11 signage: a pole with arrow-shaped wooden signs pointing in different directions saying “GR11” and the names of different villages. There are three arrows, the middle one pointing towards the right and our destination on day one: Hiriberri.

For a bit of background, we decided to do a trek of three stages on the GR11 Transpyrenees trail. “GR” stands for Grande Randonée in French, or Gran Recorrido in Spanish (“long hike”), and is used to designate a network of long-distance hiking trails across Europe. The GR11, or “Transpirenáica“, runs from Cabo Higuer on the Basque coast all the way across to Catalunya and finishes at Cap de Creus. We chose three stages in Navarre (stages 5, 6, and 7), because the area is beautiful and was accessible by public transport from Bilbao (via Pamplona). The stages in this area are around 20 kilometres each and somewhat demanding mostly because there’s a lot of up and down, but no alpine mountaineering skills are needed.

Purple wild crocuses surrounding a silver thistle. This flower is a symbol of good fortune in the Basque region.
Pretty local flora: purple wild crocuses surrounding a larger yellow flower (a silver thistle, Wikipedia tells me). This flower is a symbol of good fortune in the Basque region.

The trail did not disappoint. On the first day, it rained in the morning, but cleared up by the afternoon. The next two days were beautiful weather: bright blue skies and sunshine! On day two, we had a lot of wind while hiking along an exposed ridge, but it was all safe and, have I mentioned, beautiful?

A wide path meandering along a soft slope, high mountains in the far distance.
A wide path meandering along a soft slope, high mountains in the far distance. The path wasn’t always this wide and flat though!

Also, cute villages! And nice country hostels and hotels!

a small hamlet nestled into a valley beneath a mountain
Cute village, exhibit (a): a small hamlet nestled into a valley beneath a mountain (that we hiked down and then back up on the other side!)

Unfortunately, we did what we usually do when we go on holiday and both got a cold. I don’t know how, but every time we’re on leave, at least one of us gets sick. I don’t know if it’s the germs on the plane, the change in weather, or the sudden lack of stress, or a combination of all three. This time, it hit my partner first, so by the time we were on the trail he was already recovering. But he kindly shared it with me, so on day three we actually had to call it quits. I was so congested I could hardly breathe, let alone hike 20 kilometres with a backpack.

I was so disappointed. But we did the sensible thing and took a taxi from the village we’d spent the night in to the next place, our final destination (Isaba). It was actually a fun taxi ride. The driver is also the local school bus driver and chauffeurs anyone who needs to go somewhere in the area, from school kids to drunk local youth during the village festival and hikers with head colds. We then spent the rest of the day wandering about and resting in the sun in Isaba, which also happened to be the nicest of the villages we stayed in. It’s surrounded by pine forests on steep slopes and consists of lovingly restored traditional houses. I would happily have spent another few days there.

A narrow cobbled street lined with traditional houses with wooden balconies on the left. A square stone church tower in the background and forest-lined mountains in the background.
Cute village, exhibit (b): Isaba. A narrow cobbled street lined with traditional houses with wooden balconies on the left. A square stone church tower in the background and forest-lined mountains in the background.

I’ll be honest, I’m still angry with that stupid cold that made us miss the last day of our trek. But what can you do? I suppose I should be happy I didn’t get really sick, so by the afternoon of that day I was well enough to take a short stroll around the area. But despite the dreaded lurgy throwing a spanner in the works of our trekking plans, it felt so good to be out there, largely on our own. In two days of hiking, we met exactly five people on the trail. It was a much needed respite from the current busyness of both our jobs and lives.

But still, I need to know: do any of you have any tips to avoid the dreaded holiday cold?