Month: May 2023

The final retrospective

“And now to sum up,” as Virginia Woolf has one of her characters in The Waves say (not recommended reading, incidentally – it is quite a dreary novel).  The Public Health Emergency that was declared over three years ago when COVID first burst onto this country officially ends at midnight.  In practical terms the financial burden on the government will lessen:  it will no longer supply COVID tests gratis, and Americans will have to coordinate with insurance companies to obtain vaccines.  The burden on our health care system has been gradually diminishing, as hospitalizations become less frequent and treatment has become more effective.  The story of COVID is far from being concluded, but the story of COVID as a pandemic is.

What have been the effects of COVID since the pandemic first began?

The first one is fairly obvious:  over one million Americans dead from the disease, a much greater amount than what had been initially predicted when the pandemic began and, it may be said in passing, representing about 17% of out of the total number of COVID-related deaths around the globe, even though we represent a bare 4% of the world’s population.  The United States ranks 58^th among the nations in frequency of COVID infections among its population, but 15^th in mortality rate – not exactly a record to be proud of. 

As to the number of those who have contracted the disease and whose health has been greatly reduced in consequence – the sufferers from long COVID, in fact – it is impossible to obtain anything like accurate data.  A hopeful note appears to be sounded, insofar that the rates are declining and that even those who contract COVID are recovering more quickly than they have been in earlier months.  In very approximate terms, about 15% of all American adults have reported symptoms of long COVID, but such symptoms have lasted not more than a year for the majority of cases. 

The great strain that our health care system underwent during the earlier phases of the pandemic has been alleviated long ago, but the system has been weakened by the onslaught:  not so much from the disease itself, but from the damage inflicted by those who sought to deny its severity or even its existence.  Many health care professionals became tired of the abuse they were receiving from those whom they treated, particularly from those who refused to take the vaccines and who then berated the doctors and nurses when they became ill.  The most experienced among them have retired early and the younger ones have turned to other occupations.  According to one poll of 1,000 health care workers conducted in September 2021, 18% had quit their jobs during the 19-month since February, 2020.  By 2025, the U.S. is estimated to have a shortage of approximately 446,000 home health aides, 95,000 nursing assistants, 98,700 medical and lab technologists and technicians, and more than 29,000 nurse practitioners.

There are other consequences that could not have been predicted when the disease first manifested itself.  Remote work – the practice of working in a location apart from a corporate office – has increased dramatically and, while some corporations are requiring their employees to return to the office, quite a number of them are content to enable their employees to work from home, thereby enabling them to economize on office space.  This trend is bound to have far-reaching consequences.  Traffic congestion will become less of an issue in the larger urban areas.  Social interaction among workers, on the other hand, will sharply decrease.  Several people in the past formed their closest friendships from a selection of their colleagues, but that will be less likely to occur when people work from their homes all day and rarely come into close personal contact with any of their co-workers. 

Education has been similarly affected.  Even if students are now returning to the classroom, home schooling has increased in popularity, with students learning from the Internet rather than from face-to-face encounters with teachers and classmates.  It is unclear how children will deal with such isolation.  It is not a new situation by any means; until government-mandated schooling originated in 16^th-century Germany, many men (and, less frequently, women) were educated at their parents’ homes by tutors.  But up to this point we have not seen home-schooling as so large a scale as in recent years, and currently its long-term results can only be a matter for speculation.   

Depression is now more common among young people than it was in the past.  Research from the Walton Family Foundation indicates that members of Generation Z (those born in the year 1997 or later) are nearly twice as likely to fall into depression as those who are 25 and older:  42% of their group as opposed to 23% of the latter.  One in four of them have a close friend or relative addicted to drugs, and one in five is connected with someone who died by suicide.  Even before the pandemic began, depression was on the increase:  according to the CDC, suicide rates for people ages 10 to 24 increased almost 60% between 2007 and 2018.  Emergency department visits for suspected suicide attempts among adolescents rose 31% from 2019 to 2020.  Nearly 90% of Gen Z members believe their generation is not set up for success and 75% feel they are at a disadvantage in comparison to previous generations (such as the Baby Boomers or Gen X) who are at least 42 years old in 2022. 

I think that they are right.  The younger generation is dealing with economic pressures that members of my generation never experienced.  Our country is currently due to be unable to meet its debt obligations by June 1^st – a bare three weeks from now – and, unlike the political parties of previous decades, neither the Republicans nor the Democrats have the faintest inclination towards fiscal responsibility.   Currently the U.S. is the industrialized country with the fourth highest debt-to-GDP ratio.  Only Japan, Italy, and Greece have higher ones. In addition, the national debt is forecast to be double the United States’ GDP by 2051.

The events associated with the pandemic have highlighted the fact that Americans are, as a nation, not especially healthy.  To an extent this reflects well on our medical community:  many people who in earlier times would have succumbed to diseases resulting from compromised immune systems are now able to survive and even to lead reasonably unrestricted lives as a result of the strides we have made in therapeutic medicine.  But most of us continue to be far too sedentary in our habits, to eat too much, and to venture out of doors too little.  At the beginning of the pandemic there was a flurry of outdoor activity, but that for the most part has subsided.  Obesity continues to affect four out of every ten Americans, and indeed the obesity rate climbed over 3% during 2020 and 2021, the early years of the advent of COVID.  Obesity has played a role during the pandemic, tripling the chances of being hospitalization.  Nearly 20% of American children and adolescents are obese, indicating that as Generation Z matures this issue will worsen. 

On a more parochial level it may be noted that Washington DC is doing relatively well in this respect, with an obesity rate of 24.7%:  much too high, to be sure, but considerably better than most other regions of the country.

Less directly, the pandemic affected this country’s political administration.  In all probability Trump would have won the 2020 election if it had not been for the intervention of the COVID pandemic.  Not all of his decisions were bad.  He certainly showed greater sense than Biden has done with respect to border control:  allowing thousands of undocumented people to enter a country while a pandemic is raging is as thoroughly misguided a policy as harassing health officials and ignoring the advice of the medical organizations appointed to implement appropriate measures of control during times such as these.  The frantic efforts of the Trump administration to deny the reality of the disease when it first appeared and then to advocate quack remedies such as hydroxychloroquine and ivermectin were primarily responsible for the populace as a whole becoming disaffected with him; before the hospitals became overburdened with patients on ventilators and mortuary became overburdened with corpses, the independent voters inclined more towards him than towards any of his Democratic rivals.  Thus Trump’s defeat and the subsequent assault on the Capitol might be said to be among the unpredictable side-effects of COVID.    

But it would be misleading to end on so hopeless a note.  My own experience during the COVID years showed that it was possible to lead a quiet and reasonably satisfying life despite the difficulties we have experienced during this time, and I venture to hope that others have done so as well.  Here, then, is a final retrospective of the COVID years:

My own personal health remains good.  I continue my active habits; on my most recent hiking trip I covered about 70 miles, much of it on challenging terrain.  I cannot say for certain at this point whether I will complete 2000 miles for the entire year, but I should at any rate get within striking distance of that goal by the end of December.

I still bring a facemask with me (either on my person or in the car) whenever I leave my house.  It remains an instinctive habit now, just like checking to ensure that I have my keys in my pocket before I close the house door.   Yet I must admit that I have been laxer about using them, and I daresay I will become laxer still as COVID recedes to the background.  In England I did not bother with facemasks after arriving at the Lake District, despite the numerous bus rides I took there.  No one else was wearing one, and so I became careless in turn.  Here I wear one while using public transit, going to stores (although I’m not always consistent about this), and in enclosed areas such as theaters.  But I no longer wear them in restaurants or in private homes, where indeed they appear to be me to be a pointless exercise. 

Social life and convening in crowds are nearly back to the levels that they have been in pre-pandemic years.  Private visits, restaurant dining, going to museums, sitting through theater performances – I have indulged in more of all of these during the first few months of 2023 than in the entire period from mid-March of2020 to the end of December, 2022, and my experience is probably indicative of how people are behaving as a whole. 

I am detecting a decrease in physical activity.  It is becoming more frequent now to wander on the trails without encountering others.  Still, my experience varies.  On certain hikes, such as the Trillium Hikes that I did last weekend, I saw many outside of the group I was with.  On others I was nearly on my own, which was generally was not the case in 2021 and 2022. 

Travel likewise no longer is attended with the difficulties imposed during the earlier phases of the pandemic.  It is no longer necessary to carry proof of vaccination or to undergo testing before returning to the country.  As for travel within the country, any restrictions have disappeared long ago:  people have to strain their memories to recall a time when inter-state travel was curtailed on a state-by-state basis.

I conclude by posting statistics for the last time.  Flawed though they may be, they should be savored while they are still obtainable.  The end of the Public Health Emergency means that states are no longer required to report their COVID data to the CDC.  The CDC will have to perform estimates from hospital admissions (for hospitals still must report to the CDC even if their state does not) and wastewater analysis, which obviously are going to be less accurate. 

Today’s statistics as of 9:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 688,119,252; # of deaths worldwide: 6,873,389; # of cases U.S.: 106,790,393; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,162,693.

And, as we say at the end of the Passover seder:

CONCLUDED AND DONE

The official end of the public health emergency approaches – Winding down the journal – George Santos in difficulties – The concerns of Judge Kaplan – Russian demographics – Evening statistics

The state of emergency declared over three years ago should, if all goes well, end tomorrow.  As noted earlier, such an announcement constitutes a rather artificial endpoint for a pandemic; but any endpoint we devise will be artificial, more or less.  Over the past several months we have been easing into a situation in which people have generally agreed to accept the disease as part of our social and medical background, just as we have for malaria, influenza, polio, and various other diseases.

As the end of the pandemic approaches there are implications for this record as well.  A journal by definition does not have a well-shaped ending, like that of a novel or a biography.  At one point the author simply stops, either because he decides to do so or circumstances intervene.  Various events will inevitably still be unraveling at whatever point the journal ends.  Consider, for example, the various loose ends that will remain at the end of this narrative.  Will Donald Trump be eventually sentenced to imprisonment for his treasonous assaults on our electoral process?  Will the debacle in Ukraine result in the retribution that Vladimir Putin so richly deserves?  Will Fox News learn a lesson from its recent financial hemorrhage and condescend in future to perform some elemental fact-checking before making its broadcasts public?  Will the Democrats come to find fault with Biden’s policy of admitting hundreds of thousands of undocumented migrants into the nation during a pandemic?  Will Rudolph Giuliani obtain a bottle of hair-dye that is truly colorfast?

Answers to these and other pressing questions must be left to pens other than mine.  Well over three years have elapsed since the pandemic began, and the purpose of this journal was to record the events that unrolled from the time of its inception to its closure.  That purpose is, as I believe, approaching fulfillment; not without various digressions, of course.  It is a personal record, not an official document, and as such is colored by the biases and the circumstances of the person who wrote it.  Undoubtedly a very different journal would have been produced by someone who, for example, is not retired, or is dealing with health issues other than those created by the pandemic itself, or is coping with financial difficulties, or is less active, or is more active.  I hope, indeed, that other journals are being produced in various corners of our nation, so that we will have a more comprehensive record of this time than those that pandemics generally leave behind.  Who can remember, for example, how the influenza epidemic of the early 20^th century affected living conditions generally for the years in which it raged?  My grandparents lived through that period, but to my regret I never thought to ask them about it when I had the opportunity.  The official documents of the time are mainly devoted to statistics about the mortality rate; but the manner in which it affected day-to-day living is absent from them, and such details are all but unobtainable now.  I have tried to put details about activities such as shopping for groceries, performing upkeep for a residence, visiting patients at an assisted-living facility, coping with continually shifting travel restrictions, meeting with others both out of doors and within enclosed spaces, and so on.  It is easy to forget the amount of time that it took to determine when it was safe to resume dining in restaurants, for instance, or attending theatrical performances, or venturing out of the country without having to worry about whether it would be possible to return to it.  These concerns are not as frivolous as they might appear at first glance:  such activities that fill the leisure of myself and others constitute the livelihood of many employees in this nation. 

How coherent the journal may be as a whole is another matter.  In Hugo’s Les Miserables, the opening chapter of Part 1, Book 3 consists of the relation of a series of incidents that occurred during the year of 1817 that seem totally unrelated to one another, while several people are mentioned as celebrated during that day, of whom some are remembered and some have been consigned to oblivion.  “Napoleon was at St. Helena, and since the English would not allow him any green cloth he had his old tunics turned.  Pellegrini was singing, Mlle. Bigottini was dancing, Potier was presiding at the Théâtre des Variètiés, and Mme. Saqui had succeeded Forioso on the tightrope.  There were still Prussian troops in France.  Legitimacy had asserted itself by cutting off first the hands and then the heads of Pleignier, Cabonneau, and Tolleron, convicted of having plotted to blow up the Tuileries.”  And so on.  And at the end of the chapter Hugo concludes:

“Such is a random, superficial picture of the year 1817, now largely forgotten.  History discards nearly all these odds and ends and cannot do otherwise; the larger scene absorbs them.  Nevertheless such details, which are wrongly called trifling – there are no trifles in the human story, no trifling leaves on the tree – are not without value.  It is the lineaments of the years which form the countenance of the century.”

In the meantime odds and ends of a similar nature continue to pile up just as haphazardly while these very words are being written.

George Santos has been indicted on 13 counts, including seven counts of wire fraud, three counts of money laundering, one count of theft of public funds, and two counts of making materially false statements to the House of Representatives.  He was taken into custody this morning on Long Island, was arraigned in the afternoon, and then released on bail.  True pupil of Donald Trump that he is, he has refused to apologize for transgressions such as applying for unemployment benefits while earning $120,000 per year, and he has resisted all suggestions for him to resign.  He is admirably qualified for a political career, that is certain.

Judge Lewis Kaplan sounded more like a worried parent allowing his teenaged children to be out on their own for the evening than a legal official when he strongly recommended the jurors of the E. Jean Carroll case not to identify themselves publicly:  “not now and not for a long time.”  It may sound jarring to hear a judge addressing the jurors of a case over which he has just presided in such a fashion, but no one can question his prudence in the matter.  Considering Trump’s habit of directing violence, threats, and general mayhem against anyone who crosses his path, Kaplan’s concern for the safety of the jurors over the next several months seems only too well-justified.

Russia has a shortage of young men.  No surprises there:  casualties in the Ukrainian war have amounted to several hundred thousand; in addition, about 300,000 have fled the country.  “I feel like we are a country of women now,” one Moscow resident said. “I was searching for male friends to help me move some furniture, and I realized almost all of them had left.”  Russia’s central bank found in a recent survey of 14,000 employers that the country’s supply of available workers has hit its lowest level since 1998, pushing Russia into “its worst labor shortage in decades.”  About 100,000 IT engineers, or 10% of the nation’s IT workforce, left Russia last year and have not returned.  Russia already had a substantial gender imbalance before the war began; results from the 2021 census are expected to show that women outnumbered men by 10½ million, quite a substantial amount for a country whose population is about 143½  million.  If the war continues, birth rates could go down to 1 million between mid-2023 and mid-2024, dropping the fertility rate to 1.2 children per woman, a low mark Russia hit only once, in the 1999-2000 period.  A fertility rate of 2.1 is needed to keep populations stable without migration, and unlike our own favored nation, Russia possesses little attraction for migrants, even unauthorized ones.

Have patience, readers:  the end is near.  Hmm . . . that didn’t come out quite in the way I intended.  In all seriousness, however, if the public health emergency officially ends to tomorrow, there will be a single additional entry to complete and then the journal will be done.

Today’s statistics as of 9:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 688,049,169; # of deaths worldwide: 6,872,670; # of cases U.S.: 106,787,016; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,162,662.

Another hike in Sky Meadows – The outcome of the E. Jean Carroll case – The approaching end of the national state of emergency – Evening statistics

Another hike yesterday, this time in Sky Meadows with various friends and a stop at a winery afterwards.  We had wonderful weather, despite the humidity; most of the hike was well-shaded and there was a breeze blowing almost continually.  Even though I have been to Sky Meadows many times, it looks so different in the various seasons; today, with the tree leaves creating a canopy so dense that sunlight was filtering through in shafts, it was scarcely recognizable as the place I visited a mere six weeks ago.

There has been, if not a triumph of justice today, at any rate a mild degree of attainment in that direction.  The jury in the E. Jean Carroll case, after a relatively short three hours of deliberation, has declared Donald Trump to be guilty of battery and defamation of character.  It is a very small victory, since the penalty is only monetary and the amount that he is to pay ($1 million in damages, $1.7 million for reputation repair, and $280,000 in punitive damages, for defamation) represents so minute a fragment of his holdings that he would undergo no substantial hardship even if he were to pay the entire amount without hesitation, which of course he won’t.  After the verdict was announced, he erupted into a storm of fury and has vowed to appeal.  But what else is to be expected?  He didn’t even bother to testify on his own behalf; he simply trusted that the judge would meekly accept his abuse and that the jury would cave in the moment he issued orders to dismiss the case.  And truly, when I reflect upon the number of absolutely spineless men and women he encountered during his administration in Washington, not to mention the legions of associates and employees he habitually bamboozled in his numerous business dealings, I cannot feel any surprise at such an expectation on his part.  Not a single one of his rivals for the Republican nomination will venture to criticize him for being accused of rape.  “There’s not really an incentive for Trump to modify or normalize his behavior,” Harrison Kerr wrote in an article for 19FortyFive. “Why would he? In fact, I suspect his popularity would wane if Trump normalized; Trump’s appeal, in large part, depends upon him acting more outlandishly than his contemporaries.”

The end of the state of emergency is swiftly approaching, internationally as well as nationally.  Last week, WHO’s International Health Regulations Emergency Committee met and decided that the Public Health Emergency of International Concern (PHEIC) should end because of declining Covid-19-related hospitalizations and deaths, and high levels of immunity in the population.  “For more than a year, the pandemic has been on a downward trend,” WHO’s Director-General Tedros Adhanom Ghebreyesus said Friday.  The end of the public health emergency, which has been renewed thirteen times, since the pandemic began, does not mean that COVID can be dismissed idly.  It is now on a par with an especially bad season of influenza, and it should be borne in mind that the less than half of Americans receive influenza vaccines (I myself did not start taking them until relatively recently).  But, with COVID vaccinations now in wide use and new therapeutic methods available, a hopeful note has been sounded and it is steadily growing in resonance.  In the words of Dr. Fauci with regard to the disease:  “If you are vaccinated and boosted and have available therapy, you are not going to die, no matter how old you are.”

Today’s statistics as of 9:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 687,959,850; # of deaths worldwide: 6,871,929; # of cases U.S.: 106,772,583; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,162,474. 

The Trillium Hike, repeated – Signs of rejuvenation among the Wanderbirds – Flowerings on the Appalachian Trail in mid-spring – The long-awaited endemic phase – Evening statistics

To do the same hike twice over in two days Is not unheard of, but it is sufficiently unusual to call for an explanation.  Well, then – I wanted the opportunity for the exercise, but was reluctant to drive much, and Wanderbirds, like the Capital Hiking Club, uses a bus now whenever one is available.  But also I wanted to check on how the buses were being filled since the club’s resumption of using them some weeks earlier.

The outcome exceeded all of my expectations.  For the first time since the pandemic began I was reminded of the experience that had led me to join Wanderbirds in the first place:  a bus nearly full, with well over 40 people, many of whom were regulars of whose continued attendance I had given up as gone forever after the disappointing turnouts of the summer bus hikes during the previous year.  It seems that people’s reluctance to board a bus has faded by this time.  The greater number of them were not even bothering to wear masks.  As we filtered in towards the bus at the end of the hike to eat refreshments and converse, the atmosphere was like of old times:  lively, animated, full of little groups of members chatting about recent trips, amusements about town, medical issues related to the pandemic, and so on.  There was a sprinkling of new hikers as well:  the shifting of Wanderbirds to Meetup is starting to attract attention. 

I must not make too much of this.  The Trillium hike is traditionally one of the most popular hikes of the year, and it is not to be expected that subsequent hikes will be such a resounding success.  But it was such a relief to encounter it after the disappointing experiences of the previous year.  Today, for the first time, I began to feel more confident about re-instituting bus hikes in general for the club. 

There were other reasons for satisfaction.  The trilliums actually appeared more numerous today than they did yesterday.  Trilliums thrive best in fairly dry weather, and the absence of rain overnight caused their petals to droop less and several new blooms to appear overnight.  Many other wildflowers were on full display as well, including a couple of yellow lady-slippers on the Appalachian Trail.  The hike was not quite the same as the one I did yesterday:  after departing from the lake and taking the Verlin Smith Trail, we continued on the fire road all the way to the intersection with the AT and then went south towards the parking area.  Finally, the rain predicted for the afternoon failed to materialize until well after everyone had returned to the bus – it did not begin until I started to drive from the Metro center back home, in fact.

I fell into conversation with a member of the medical profession about COVID, just as I had done the day before.  I expressed admiration, and some wonder, at the speed with which the vaccinations had been developed, since they rely on a new technology.  She told me that in fact the experimentation on the technology had been completed over the course of several years earlier, and that the acceleration of disseminating the vaccines consisted primarily of the manner in which they were distributed to the market.  This process, as I have documented in earlier entries, did not progress altogether smoothly at first; but in the long run it came off very well.  The vaccines have undeniably done their work:  by far the greater number of COVID-related hospitalizations and death are among the unvaccinated.

We also spoke, among other topics, about the impending removal of the national state of emergency that is expected this coming week.  We agreed that such an announcement will be issued, as my epidemiologist friend declared yesterday, mainly for political reasons.  But that is not the entire story.  In a sense the official end of the influenza epidemic during the early 20^th century is a political contrivance as well.  Influenza, after all, has not disappeared in the manner that bubonic plague or the sweating sickness has disappeared. It has merely reached a level that society as a whole has agreed to be containable.  Influenza currently causes 12-13 per 100,000 to die annually.  (This figure has to be treated with some reservation; I have seen many different estimates from various sources.)  If the mortality rate for COVID continues to maintain its current levels, the annual mortality rate will be somewhat higher:  about 20 per 100,000, which is certainly not insignificant but which by no definition can be accounted a crippling epidemic.  We have in fact been gradually shifting to the endemic phase, in which we will all (or nearly all; heaven knows some people are stubborn) receive periodic vaccinations and put up with a certain amount of hospitalizations and deaths while we resume our living habits as they were before the pandemic began.

Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 687,758,500; # of deaths worldwide: 6,870,999; # of cases U.S.: 106,768,296; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,162,431. 

Catching up on the news, such as it is – The Trillium hike – Evening statistics, with caveats

What has happened on the national and international fronts while I have been cavorting in the U.K.?  I admit that I have not been following the news very closely during the past two weeks.  Ascending Scafell Pike and savoring the views of the various fells from its summit, including the Mourne Mountains in Northern Ireland, somehow seemed to be of greater importance than the comings and goings of Donald Trump.  I cannot account for it, but so it is.

I gather, however, that Tucker Carlson is no longer associated with Fox News and that he has been dismissed for “undisclosed” reasons, though I would venture to guess that his having played a major role in the organization’s being forced to disgorged the largest settlement for slander in the history of journalism might have been a factor in this outcome.  As for Trump himself, he recently has visited Scotland, on account of his beloved golf course, though it must be observed that the country does not love him much in return; such comments that I overheard about this episode in Edinburgh were almost universally derisive. 

He has recently hastened back to New York to superintend the lawsuit that E. Jean Carroll has levelled against him, denouncing the judge as “extremely hostile.”   His own lawyer appears to have given up on him; in a conversation with Lewis Kaplan, the judge in question, he said “I know you understand what I am dealing with.”  Joe Tacopina went on to assure Kaplan that he would attempt to control the stream of insults that Trump continues to post on his various media outlets, to which Kaplan responded hope you’re more successful” and went on to say that Trump “may or may not be tampering with a new source of potential liability. . . . And I think you know what I mean.”  Dare I hope that Kaplan will have the strength to impose a few days of imprisonment for Trump’s repeated violations in this respect?  Contempt of court can incur a jail sentence of up to ten days. 

In any case, I continue to roam the forest floors.  I went with the Capital Hiking Club on the Trillium Hike today.  The trilliums reached peak bloom earlier than usual this year on account of the early beginning of spring, but there were still several to be seen, as well as many other wildflowers:  starry chickweed, wild geranium, May apple, bloodroot, rue anemone.  It was gratifying to overhear the remarks of several other riders in the bus to the effect that they were grateful to have the opportunity to access trailheads in this manner – the alternative, since they live in the city and do not possess cars, being to rent out a car and drive on their own, a troublesome and potentially expensive undertaking.

After the hike I conversed with LE, an epidemiologist.  I expressed some relief that the mortality rate of COVID has been declining and that it appears to be approaching the containable rate of influenza.  She was somewhat hesitant in concurring:  a decline was certainly apparent since the advent of the vaccines, she said, but the amount of excess mortality (the number of deaths greater than the expected number as a result of the records of previous years) suggests that the data in this respect are incomplete.  Testing is now performed less frequently than it was in earlier stages and home testing has been all but abandoned.  Several deaths imputed to other causes have in all probability had COVID as their root cause.  I also referred to the expected announcement next week of the end of the national state of emergency that had been declared three years ago, to which she smiled and said, “It’s mainly political.”

The statistics below therefore must be viewed with certain reservations.  Such as they are, however –

Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 687,722,214; # of deaths worldwide: 6,870,840; # of cases U.S.: 106,767,388; # of deaths; U.S.: 1,162,427. 

I went on my first long trip of the year, going with several others to hike in the Lake District and to see a couple of friends in England.  I actually returned on the evening of the 2^nd, but it always takes me a few days to get re-organized.  And it takes a fair amount of time to write out an account of the events of a trip, even an abbreviated version. 

April 20-21

A bitter journey!  I left a day before the others in the group to meet with friends in England.  But I booked my flight with British Airways, which manages airplane flights about as efficiently as the government of Queen Victoria handled food distribution in Ireland during the Great Famine.  The flight to Heathrow was canceled, so they put me on a flight with United instead.  But since I was continuing to Edinburgh, I needed to get my baggage checked there; and United would check my baggage only as far as Heathrow, since the connecting flight was still with British Airways.   When I asked the people at the British Airways check-in desk at Dulles about this issue, they told me that I would have to claim my baggage at Heathrow and then check in again at the British Airways desk there.  How they imagined that such a course was feasible is something to marvel at.  It took about an hour-and-a-half to go to the baggage claim area, undergo passport verification, collect my luggage, and take the train from one terminal to another.  Then it took another 40 minutes to go through the line at the British Airways check-in at Heathrow.  By this time, of course, the flight to Edinburgh had long departed.  They put me on another flight, which departed some four hours later from the London City airport.  But I did not have to worry overmuch about how to pass the time during the interval, because the journey on the Metro from Heathrow to London City involved two transfers (one including a walk from one station to another, while it was raining) and consumed another 90 minutes.  It must be added, in fairness, that the flight from London City to Edinburgh was quite efficient and fairly comfortable.

I was afterwards to learn that the remainder of the group, who flew to the U.K. on the following day, fared no better.  The flight from Dulles to Heathrow landed too late for them to make the connection to Edinburgh, and they ended up taking a five-hour ride by Uber to the hotel in the Lake District.  British Airways told their passengers that they were “sorry for the inconvenience” and that, in their eyes, seemed to be the end of the matter.

I was somewhat placated by seeing my first glimpse of Edinburgh, which is an architectural wonder:  indeed, it is one of the finest cities in Europe in this respect.  There was not time to do much, since I was meeting others there, but I did manage to go up to the top of Arthur’s Seat, a high hill on the outskirts of the city.  The hike is about 2½ miles long and involves an ascent of about 800 feet.  It is one of those rare sights that has received an abundance of praise and yet is not a letdown when one actually sees it:  it deserves all of the encomiums that it has received.  It provides a bird-s-eye of Edinburgh, with the castle standing prominently in the distance on a somewhat lower eminence, with all of the massive, imposing buildings clustered around each side of the long street stretching from the palace below all the way to the castle that constitute the Old Town. 

The season was considerably less advanced in this area than it was back home, with many double-blossomed cherry trees in full bloom.

April 22:  Penrith

Due to a rather complicated set of circumstances, I was obliged to stop in Penrith instead of making my way directly to the hotel in Rosthwaite to meet the others.  But Penrith itself proved to be delightful in its way.  It is a market town, with several ancient market sites strung together (one for meat, one for vegetables, one for grain, etc.) and the narrow alleys provided a place of safety during the internal skirmishes that periodically troubled the area during the Late Middle Ages, and during the War of the Roses in particular.  Even today, one can use the alleys to avoid walking along the streets, some of which are heavily trafficked.  The town contains the ruins of a castle that, among other things, served as a home for the Duke of Gloucester in his early years, before he became Rickard III.  It is somewhat small, as castles go – his bachelor pad, as I called it.  The town has literary associations as well.  Mary Hutchinson, the wife of Wordsworth, came from the area; and Coleridge first published in this town, walking about 20 miles to carry his manuscripts to Penrith’s printing press. 

April 23:  Rosthwaite, Watendlath, and Dock Tarn

I made it to the hotel in Rosthwaite at last.  I may say that at this point I became extremely lax about wearing facemasks, despite the numerous bus trips I was to take to various trailheads.  No one else bothered about the matter and I was affected by the general carelessness in this respect.  Nor were people wearing them in stores or other enclosed areas.  Truly the pandemic may be said to have receded, at any rate in theory.

Since the remainder of the group had arrived the day before and were hiking in Keswick, I did a hike on my own after I checked in at the hotel in Rosthwaite.  Ostensibly it was 5 miles long with 1200 feet of elevation gain, but owing to various wrong turns and detours I added at least 1½ miles and 300-400 of ascent.  The first part, ascending over a ridge and then going down to the tarn at Watendlath, was quite straightforward.  It was a somewhat cloudy day, and the reflection of the clouds on the surface of the water gave the lake an oddly pearl-like appearance.  From there I went to Dock Tarn, which was much more difficult.  The trail was extremely marshy in many places and, in addition to being unmarked itself, intersected many other unmarked trails, so that it was not easy to decide where to turn at trail junctions.  At one point I headed to the top of the highest summit in the area, with the most appropriate name of Great Crag.   But this was a profitable detour, for it not only gave me a view of Dock Tarn itself to enable me to head in its direction but in addition provided an overlook of the entire valley, a so-called hanging valley that was formed by glacial erosion.  Great Crag is, as I afterwards learned, a “Wainwright,” one of the 214 Lake District fells described in Alfred Wainwright’s seven volume Pictorial Guide to the Lakeland Fells.  (Wainwright is the man who originated the Coast-to-Coast hike route as well.)  There were many people at Watendlath but I encountered no one at Dock Tarn, which to my mind is the more interesting of the two:  nestled among little hills in the plateau, with numerous waterfowl resting on the water’s surface and along the shoreline.  The final descent was very challenging:  700 feet down in about ½ mile, and extremely rocky as well.  Despite the relatively short distance, the hike took me three hours to complete.

Rosthwaite itself is a small village in the Borrowdale valley, about six miles from the market town of Keswick, consisting mainly of a couple of farms and a few accommodations for visitors on account of its proximity to numerous trailheads.  It is one of the stops on the Coast-to-Coast hike; and in fact the hotel at which we were lodged was the same one at which I stayed when I went on the Coast-to-Coast hike five years ago.

April 24: Rosthwaite to Keswick via High Spy and Catbells, 9 miles, 2400’

This hike was almost perfect and, rather surprisingly, less arduous than the hike of the day before, despite the greater mileage and elevation gain.  There was a good deal less boggy ground to go over and the grades were somewhat less challenging.  The first two miles were the steepest, leading past an abandoned stone quarry; after this first ascent the remaining uphill portions were relatively short and somewhat gentler in grade.  We went along a wide moor to the summit of High Spy, and as we did so the beautiful Derwent Water emerged into view below, along with many other peaks and valleys, including Catbells.  Much of the trail consisted of rock, some of it carved into steps.  Early in the day the sky was somewhat overcast but it became sunnier as we ascended to High Spy and the temperature, though brisk, was not chilly.  In general we were extraordinarily fortunate in our weather, with no rain for every single day that we hiked.  From High Spy we went along a ridgeline, first descending and then undergoing mild ups and downs to Catbells.  Although the summit of Catbells is lower than that of High Spy, its proximity to the lake provides closer and more detailed views of Derwent Water and of the buildings of Keswick stretching from the shoreline to the town center. 

Keswick itself is a prepossessing place with several pubs, restaurants, and stores, including a central square limited to pedestrians that constitutes the main shopping area.  It lacks, however, the charm of places such as Grasmere and Ambleside; it is simply a pleasant and well-built market town, without any special features to attract the casual visitor’s attention.

April 25: Scafell Pike, 14 miles, 4000’

The hike was a difficult one, but that is to be expected, for Scafell Pike is the highest peak in England:  about 3200 feet above sea level (as compared to 3500 feet for Snowdon in Wales and 4400 feet for Ben Nevis in Scotland).  We took a cab to get to Seathwaite, where the trail begins; but after the hike we had to walk along the road for about 2½ miles back to Rosthwaite – which actually was not a bad way to unwind after the rigors of the day.  The hike goes mainly over rocks and boulders, and much of it is a continual uphill.  At one point the path flattens out and one has the delusion that the most arduous part of the hike is complete; in fact, after going around a bend it continues over shattered rock debris, with steep grades ascending and descending along the boulder fields (it does both before approaching the summit).  Numerous mountain tops are seen from the summit, interspersed with the valleys of Wasdale and Borrowdale.  The weather was fairly sunny at the summit, although there was a sharp wind blowing, causing us to nestle among the rocks to obtain a measure of shelter while eating lunch.  Nonetheless, when we told the man at the hotel desk afterwards about the favorable weather he could hardly believe it.  He had hiked up to the peak on numerous occasions, and each time it was gray and overcast, and often wet as well.

I must here, incidentally, indulge in a diatribe against British dog-owners, who, as I have already observed, are even worse than American dog-owners, difficult though that may be to believe.  Many hikers had brought their dogs with them to the summit and not a single one of them was on a leash, despite the regulations that require one.  Most of the dogs were fairly well-behaved, but not of all of them were.  When I sat down to lunch, one of these over-indulged mongrels came sniffing at the food I was conveying to my mouth, in expectation of some sort of handout.  I told its owners – rather sharply, I will admit – to call it off, and they complied; but they seemed surprised, indeed shocked, that I was not flattered by their darling pet’s singling me out for its attentions.  This propensity for disregarding the offensive effects of their dogs’ playful gambols was emphasized on the day of our departure, when one dog slipped away from its owners and bounded upon one member of our party just as we were loading up on the bus to return to Edinburgh, tumbling her onto the muddy ground.

April 26:  Rosthwaite to Grasmere, 10½ miles, 2900’

Going from Rosthwaite to Grasmere is part of the Coast-to-Coast hike, but we took an alternate route.  We first went up Eagle Crag, quite a difficult climb.  When viewed from the valley, its walls appear vertical.  This is in fact not quite the case, but the grade for the most part is at a very acute angle, and the portion approaching the summit requires the use of hands and arms, as well as a bit of ingenuity in devising toeholds.  Unsurprisingly, the experts do not recommend this route for descending or for attempting it during increment weather.  The views from its summit, however, were spectacular, chiefly of the Borrowdale fells connected by the beautiful valley. 

After this climb we went over a couple of gentle ups and downs to a high meadow, and eventually we made our way to the standard Coast-to-Coast route as it began the descent towards Grasmere.  But we veered from it again, by not taking the straightforward descent down to Grasmere and instead turning east to go along a ridgeline that included numerous peaks:  Calf Crag, Gibson Knott, and Helm Crag.  As always, we had imposing views from the various peaks, particularly as we came closer to Grasmere and could view the town from above.  The weather, however, was becoming threatening, with black rain clouds in the distance heading in our direction.  In response, I fairly hared up and down Helm Crag in my anxiety to get off of the rocks before the rain began.  As it happened, we received no more than a light sprinkling.  Once we regrouped from the descent from Helm Crag, we made our way to Grasmere, passing by the Glenthorne Guest House, where I had stayed for one night during the Coast-to-Coast hike.  I have fond memories of the place:  it is the Quaker Meeting House of the town as well as a B&B, and it thus was of historic interest, in addition to being extremely comfortable.  We did not have the opportunity to stay in Grasmere very long, to my disappointment, since we had to ensure that we were in time to board the last bus of the day to Keswick, and thence to Rosthwaite.  We came into town just as the second-to-last bus pulled in; it was full and could not take on any more passengers.  So most of the group decided to take a taxi back to the hotel after we all had an early dinner.  A few of us, however, took a chance and waited for the last bus of the day to arrive.  It was only half-full and had no difficulty in accommodating all of the passengers who boarded, so we made our way back to Rosthwaite easily.

April 27:  Rosthwaite to Buttermere, 7½ miles, 3150’

This hike repeated the initial climb towards High Spy, going as far as the quarry before turning away to ascend a second peak, which looked formidable from a distance but which was much less arduous than it appeared.  Here again we experienced 360-degree views, including Keswick in the valley below.  We proceeded along a ridgeline, taking a side trail to the summit of Honister that eventually circled back to the ridgeline.  From Honister we saw the peaks we had roamed over three days earlier from above, including High Spy and Catbells.  We then went up another ascent to the top of Robertson before beginning the final descent to Buttermere.  This descent was steep and rocky in places, like so many of the descents in the Lake District.  The weather was windy at the top of Robertson, and overcast as well, but there was no rain.  The descent from Robertson provided the best views of all, focusing on the lakes of Buttermere and Crummock Water, both of them sapphirine-blue, with the little village of Buttermere nestled between them.

We did not linger long in Buttermere, which is said to be quaint and picturesque but which in fact is of little intrinsic interest, and instead took the bus that arrived just a few minutes after we came to the main village square.  The ride back to Rosthwaite was quite interesting, going over a mountain road that barely contained enough room for the width of the bus.  Once Buttermere was out of sight, the area appeared strangely wild and remote, even though we knew that there were several villages just a few miles away.  As we went to Honister Pass we passed by the store at the Honister Slate Mine, which again brought back memories of the Coast-to-Coast hike; the segment from Ennerdale to Rosthwaite passes this landmark. 

April 28:  High Raise and Pike of Stickle, 13 miles, 3100’

Again we had a lovely hike, which was less strenuous than the earlier ones in spite of the extra mileage.  We began by repeating the Coast-to-Coast route from Rosthwaite to Grasmere (bypassing Eagle Crag this time).  We met a pair of Coast-to-Coast hikers from the U.S. on this portion and chatted with them.  Most of the ascent was not steep, with the exception of about 1/10^th mile close to the top of the ridge.  This portion was quite steep and occasionally required the use of hands as well as feet, but it did not last long and we were rewarded with beautiful views of the various crags surrounding Borrowdale Valley.  From there we ascended, much more gradually to High Raise.  The views were obscured by clouds here but we had glimpses of the valley now and then.  After lunch we proceeded to Pike of Stickle.  A “stickle” is a hill with a steep and prominent rocky top and a “pike” is a hill with a peaked summit, so the name is somewhat repetitive.  At any rate, it is certainly accurate as a description; it is a rock pile almost conical in shape, and the path that led up to its top was an enjoyable rock scramble.  At the top we saw Langdale Valley about 2000 feet below us.  After we left Pike of Stickle we went down a long descent, which must be unique in the Lake District:  it was not especially steep and made use of numerous switchbacks.  We skirted by Eagle Crag during the descent to a trail that goes from Langdale Valley to Borrowdale Valley, and as we did so the weather became increasingly sunny.  After several miles we came to a path that led to Stonethwaite, a pretty little village nearly adjacent to Rosthwaite, which we stopped at a pub to relax, leisurely drinking in the garden and savoring the sunlight pouring down from an unclouded sky, quite a rare occurrence in the Lake District.  From there it was a road walk back to Rosthwaite, but this portion of the walk was only a mile long and the roads were almost devoid of cars.  A wonderful day!

April 29:  Rydal Water and Ambleside, 7 miles, 700’

I was in the mood for something less taxing than the hikes we had completed on previous days, and this one fitted in with my expectations.  It was not spectacular, but it was extremely satisfying:  a pleasant ramble around a long lake that was surrounded by fells.  Waterfowl disported on the water’s surface and many people in boats were sculling.  A short spur trail led to a series of caves, with rock walls carved and curiously patterned by the eons of weathering.  A good way to unwind after a strenuous, albeit enjoyable, week.

After the hike we lunched in Ambleside, which is a very attractive town, with numerous houses presenting slate-stone exteriors.  It has literary associations as well: it was the home of Harriet Martineau, that remarkable abolitionist who wrote extensively on numerous other sociological topics as well (she is indeed sometimes seen as the first female sociologist) and who, quite unusually for a woman of the early Victorian era, was able to support herself by her writings.

April 30 – May 1:  Edinburgh

We left Rosthwaite in a bus hired for the group and arrived at Edinburgh during the early afternoon.  Most of us explored the Old Town, although we were somewhat hindered by various rain showers.  It is impossible to describe the architecture of Old Town in a manner that can explain how impressive it is.   The streets are narrow and cobblestoned, and the buildings are great piles of cut stones fitted together, dating back to medieval times, with massive walls to withstand the severe Northern climate.  The Old Town is not large, consisting mainly of the Royal Mile, a street stretching from the castle at the top of the main hill down to Holyrood Palace, with a couple of streets on either side of it and various alleys (which are called “closes” in this city) connecting them.  Since Edinburgh became crowded at an early point in its history, many of the buildings were constructed to make optimum use of the available square footage, rising to ten stories and more.  But the buildings are not simply big; they are graceful as well, with tall paneled windows placed at regular intervals along the exteriors and with triangular pediments on top of the porticos leading to the house entrances.  A long series of gardens separates the Old Town from the New Town, whose architecture is Georgian – although Princes Street, the main street of this area, contains more modern buildings as well.  Princes Street also contains the strange Gothic monument to Walter Scott, rearing 200 feet high:  a “spire without a cathedral,” as it is sometimes called. 

The following day we toured the castle, which was not quite what I expected.  Its status as a royal residence declined in the 17^th century and it was used primarily for military purposes since that time, particularly during the Victorian period.   Many portions of the original castle were destroyed by artillery bombardment and replaced by more modern edifices.  Some older parts survive, such as St. Margeret’s Chapel from the early 12 century, the Great Hall (although even that was altered during the mid-Victorian period), and the Royal Palace, which includes the chamber where Mary Queen of Scots gave birth to the boy who eventually became James I of England.  I had purchased the audio tour, which turned out to be more of a distraction than an aid.  Castle Rock, the hill on which the castle is built, is about 430 feet above sea level, and thus provides sweeping views of all areas of the city in every direction, down all the way to the shoreline of Leith (about 2½ miles from the city itself), 

The weather was sunny in the morning, but during our tour of the castle it became increasingly chilly and cloudy.  By the time we left the castle rain was threatening, and we experienced brief showers from time to time.  A visit to the National Museum of Scotland thus was indicated for the afternoon, and there we according went for a couple of hours.  The museum itself, although containing many interesting artifacts, is rather a jumble, and its lighting leaves something to be desired; in several cases the inscriptions are so dimly lit that it is difficult to read them.  The best part of the exhibits is the section that deals with ancient Egypt, in which the objects are arranged in chronological order and provide a coherent overview of the history of its culture.  I also visited, on my own, the National Gallery, which is small but which contains many superb paintings, including, not surprisingly, several Raeburns. 

I would have stayed longer in the city after the visit to the museum, but the weather was steadily worsening.  In the end I returned to the hotel, where I met with a few other to dine together and then to turn in early.

Edinburgh is a delightful experience in every respect except one:  the swarms of people who habitually sprawl over the entire width of the sidewalks, which sometimes makes progress difficult.  Perhaps this is true of any city that sees hundreds of tourists visiting it on a daily basis, but in Edinburgh this type of behavior is especially noticeable because the walkways can become quite narrow at times.  I believe, however, that I am correct in observing that Europeans in general are more reluctant than Americans to walk in single file in public areas.  On several occasions I would walk along High Street (the main street of Old Town) while people coming in the opposite direction would be walking two, three, or even four abreast, never dreaming of falling back to allow foot traffic to go in the other direction, and causing me to speculate whether or not I had donned Harry Potter’s Invisibility Cloak without being aware of it. 

May 2

There is little to record about this day, except that since the flight departure time was 2:00, there was time in the morning for a pleasant ramble through Gyle Park in the Corstorphine area. 

Going through Customs after we landed was astonishingly easy; I cannot recall a swifter processing among all of the international trips I have taken.  The Customs officer asked only a single question – whether or not I was carrying any food with me – and when I replied that I was not, he waved me through.  No questions at all about whether I had anything to declare, which puzzles me. 

On the following day I could not help noticing how much larger various objects appear after spending nearly two weeks in the U.K.:  streets, trees, sidewalks, houses, lawns, people.  With respect to this last category I am not being entirely complimentary:  I could wish that the morbidly obese were less well represented in our population.