Here in the DC megalopolis , this has been one of the mildest winters I can remember. Except for a few days, it hasn’t gotten bitterly cold and there have been many, many warm days. The roads have remained free of salt and most of the time my old leather bomber jacket and a pair of fingerless gloves have been as bundled up as I’ve needed to be. The tank for the oil we heat with wasn’t filled for more than a year and was still nearly half full when the men finally showed up to top it off. (The fact that we keep the house between 57-61F keeps the oil consumption down too.)

Then today, just a few weeks into February, the temperatures soared into the 20s (70s F) and out on my walk, I had to remove my jacket entirely to prevent my radiator from overheating. The sky is a stunning cerulean and the few clouds float by like cotton candy at the summer fair. In the park, a cherry tree (not me) was in full blossom and a precocious butterfly danced along one of the gravel roads in our town.

When I was a kid, there was also the occasional warm day in February. Those days felt like a miracle. Now they feel slightly ominous as the effects of man-made climate change appear to be accelerating.

Sinister or not, the mild weather has been a boon for our winter training program. We are planning a journey to the southwestern U.S. this spring to, among other things, hike to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. This has been a goal of my (Ironman triathlete) wife for years and I, in a moment of insanity, agreed to go along.

I have done some hiking in my day and so shouldn’t be intimidated by this prospect, but this will be different from anything I’ve done before.

First of all the hike begins with a descent of around 10 miles into the Canyon. That part sounds ok. However, once at the bottom, there are only three ways out again. One is back the way you came ascending 10 miles and climbing more than a mile of elevation along the way. Also since the rim of the Canyon is more than 7,000 feet above sea level, the higher you climb, the thinner the air gets. The more you climb, the harder it gets to continue doing so especially for those of us who commonly dwell at sea-level.

The second way out is on the raft of someone nice enough (and with enough room) to pick up hitchhikers (unlikely).

Finally, your loved ones can hire a cowboy at the Phantom Ranch to throw your dead body over a mule and haul you back up.

To make our trek a bit easier, we’re hoping to spread the hike over a few days.

Day one: hike halfway down and camp overnight.
Day two: hike the rest of the way to the bottom dine at the ranch (see above) and hike back up to camp.
Day three: back to the rim.

Of course, this means each of us schlepping a 10-15kg pack with food, stove, fuel, sleeping bags and a tent down and back up again!

I say this is what we hope to do if permitted by the United States Park Service. You see there are so many people that want to do exactly this, there are limits on how many are allowed to camp in the canyon overnight. You literally must win the lottery to do so.

Unfortunately, we didn’t. So, we plan to show up each morning for a week or so, hoping that a spot has freed up and that the rangers will take pity on the holders of a lifetime senior access pass (knowing we may never be back again!) and allow us the privilege of sleeping on the cold ground in the Canyon.

Cherry blossoms busting loose. Groundhog be damned!

Thanks to the mild winter here, we have been able to train on the Appalachian Trail or in other nearby parks most weekends. Our hikes range from 12-20km (6-13 miles). Last week we swapped our day packs for the bigger packs we will use in the Canyon. I felt pretty good after the hike (the homemade pizza and red wine helped) but the terrain, altitude, and elevation changes here in the east are so different, that I am not sure how I will feel when the boots hit the trail in earnest.

Assuming I survive this adventure, further (more mellow) hikes await in Zion, Bryce, and Joshua Tree National Parks and perhaps a few fine meals (seders?) in the L.A. conurbation before we once again steer VanGo!’s bonnet toward the place we call, for lack of a better word, home.

Departure is still some weeks away, meanwhile, I’ll enjoy this winter of our discontent made glorious summer by these sons of greenhouse gas emitters… wait I gotta go. Clarence comes.

Spring Training