The Wormlips Scrapbook

My poor little muscles have gone all floppy this week as they’ve sat around watching me work on the computer. So yesterday Anna and I took them for a walk in Briones Regional Park, on a six-mile trail with 1700 feet in elevation gain. Anna’s wearing the cowboy hat she bought in Death Valley.

Our destination was a small, fuzzy, round peak where, inspired by total isolation and the 360-degree view, we spontaneously broke into a frenzy of self-expression: shouting greetings to faraway friends and cursing our enemies: “You’re a big, old throwup-face, [name here]!”

And today, in celebration of Lulu’s nineteenth birthday, she and I went rock climbing. Since I’ve gone only once since my lesson, I still have to get tested on my knot-tying and belaying technique before they set me loose on the premises. Usually you have to pass the test five times before they permanently certify you, but the guy said I did so well that I earned my climbing card! From now on I can head straight for the fake rock.

I’m afraid I look like a man in that picture, particularly next to Lulu. I swear: all the men in the gym couldn’t take their eyes off of her. I notice the same thing when I’m with my other daughter, too.

At home, Lulu wanted to see how much she and Stella weighed together. That’s Esmeralda’s sister looking on. I have to make up a blog name for her, too. Okay: how about Bettina?

Lulu wanted leek-potato soup for her birthday so I complied, luckily making enough to share with unscheduled guests.

My own birthday is in four days and I always get weird when it rolls around. I just feel terribly, terribly sorry for myself because… well, I don’t know why. I just do. I’m dreading it.

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Despite the subtitle of the Wormlips Blog, I really don’t think it’s all about me. Well, at least not all the time.

One way it’s not all about me is that Cheryl has been suffering for the past two weeks from a particularly brutal South Asian disease of uncertain diagnosis. I get to see her when we video-chat on Skype. She looks pretty even when she’s sick, but she does look very sick at the moment. She’s also being characteristically stoical. I hate being too far away to help.

With her genuine problems as a backdrop, it seems even more absurd than usual to go on about my minor physical issues. And if they didn’t have a choke-hold on my plans for Nepal, I wouldn’t mention them.

Well, at last this foot part is over. In today’s final test, I hiked in a pretty, cool, damp part of Tilden Park.

I must’ve gone five-plus miles, and climbed around 1200 feet. Marked in green is where I thought I was going, and in red is where I went. Like the vanishing hitchhiker I kept overtaking the same groups of people.

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The 360-degree view from the top of 1250-foot Wildcat Peak includes the East Bay’s greatest hits: the SF and San Pablo Bays and their bridges and islands; Mount Diablo; a lot of cities (SF, Berkeley, Oakland, Albany, Richmond…); and some regional parks and reservoirs.

This is what I can no longer deny: While not unbearable, the steady complaining of my heel — along with the inherent challenges of the Himalaya — is likely to turn my three-week trek into an experience only a Buddhist monk has the wisdom to appreciate.

I just wrote to Cheryl:

The confusion about my visit has been probably driving you as crazy as it has me. I sincerely apologize. I’ve never had trip plans turn upside-down like this, and I’m not handling it gracefully.

The thing is, I haven’t been able to let go of the trip because it’s been my dream and beacon all these months. But in rational moments I remember that this is the hugest physical challenge I’ve attempted, and it would be foolhardy to do it in a weakened condition … particularly when I’m no athlete to begin with.

Not only do I feel sorry for myself at having to sacrifice this once-in-a-lifetime adventure with you, but I feel like [censored] for [censored] your plans. My consolation is knowing that (health permitting) you still plan to trek to Everest Base Camp anyway.

So I guess this means that I will cancel my plane tickets tomorrow. [Censored.] [Censored.] Love, Ginna

Does anyone want to borrow books about Nepal, the Himalaya and South Asia? I can recommend movies, too.

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