School Story:
FLHS prepared me for adulthood in a way that I would appreciate only recently. Yes, I had great teachers, and I knew that when I entered Rutgers University I was well-prepared for academia. What I hadn’t thought about was how well my training in athletics, courtesy or Frank Bennett, my football and wrestling coach, may very well have saved my life recently. Mr. Bennett never allowed us to drink water during football practice, even in September. It was his way of toughening us up. Any coach today that did that would not be a coach. As for wrestling, I recall the discomfort of eschewing water 36 hours or more before the weigh-in. Butch Brauch (’60) had a novel method for thirst-quenching. He would drink a chilled bottle of magnesium citrate with the rationale that what went in would come back out, and maybe a bit more with a little bit of luck. I tried it once and found the after taste appalling. I continued my masochistic denial of water while wrestling at Rutgers.
During the summers of the last eight years, I have been riding my mountain bike on the logging roads of southern Vancouver Island between Victoria, the provincial capital (where my wife Brenda is from) and Lake Cowichan, about 65 miles north. An offshoot of the trans-Canada bicycle trail ends there. From when I began this quest till now, I have never seen a cyclist at the higher elevations (above 1500 ft). My wife suggested that they may not know about these roads, so why not write a booklet, as others have done with hiking trails. I kept detailed records where every fork occurred along with GPS readings, photographs, and time. My goal was to finish this by my 70th birthday. Well, I did, but not how I had anticipated. Logging activity, this year is at least ten times greater than the previous 7 years combined. (Cedar is the wood used in Japan for house construction, which is being done on a large scale since recovery from the tsunami). The two logging companies have built new roads, destroyed all the old ones and have set up barriers on hiking trails near the provincial park. It is clear that they do not want anyone on or near their roads. I had come to this conclusion before I tried to retrace a route I had mapped out several years ago from the opposite direction. Everything had changed.
I realized that I would not find the connecting road and turned back, too late, hoping to cover the 25 miles, all down-hill (2500 to 500 ft) to the main gate in a little over an hour. I had been on this road a dozen or more times, and knew it well. What I didn’t know was that it had been “resurfaced” with crushed rock and gravel from 1000 ft to the end at 500 ft. I saw this change too late. My attempt to slow down by using only the back break saved me from going over the handle bars but caused the rear wheel to fishtail, which resulted in my head and left shoulder taking the full impact. The stars I saw, laying on my back, were not celestial, though night was fast approaching. I got up, and felt a very strange sensation in my shoulder and left side as I removed my backpack and draped it around the handle bars. The bicycle was very useful in helping me break my step as I walked downhill in a sea of loose rock and gravel. After an hour, I had reached level ground and found a chair-sized rock to sit down upon and take stock of my predicament. Cell phones do not work in logging areas. I had 10 miles to go and a liter of water. (I also had a broken clavicle and four broken ribs, though I would not find that out until the next day). I was exhausted and very thirsty, but convinced myself that I could drink half of my water and save the remainder for the last 4 miles or 2 hours. To this day, I recall no discomfort or pain, but extreme thirst. I recalled how I went through this many years ago, and convinced myself that I could still manage it now though a half-century older.
When I arrived at the gate at 3AM, there was a lighted house across the street. The occupants were very helpful in providing me with water and in calling my wife to assure her that I was alive and well. It was the high point of my 70th birthday.
For those of you who have no yet reached your three score year and ten, I hope that your birthday, if exciting, is enjoyable.
