The first day of spring – Hiking at Big Devils Stairs – The journal’s anniversary – A retrospective – Evening statistics
Today is the first day of spring. Actually, as I noted earlier, spring has already begun in the DC metro area, at any rate in the lower elevations. Every day sees new flowers budding and various wildlife creatures emerging from their hibernation. In the higher elevations, such as the Blue Ridge Mountains, it is a different matter; the landscape is still bare and wintry.
The hike today I took in Shenandoah National Park with AD and RH went from Little Hogback Overlook along the Appalachian Trail to the Bluff Trail up to its junction with the Marshall Trail, and then backtracked, with a detour down the Big Devils Stairs Trail to the viewpoint that overlooks the gorge of a headwater tributary of the Rush River. The gorge at this point is so steep that it becomes in essence a slot canyon. Its cliffs and rock wall consist of metabasalt (a metamorphic form of basalt with the addition of some quartz), and how the river was able to cut through this non-porous hard rock is something of a mystery. We chose to go to the overlook at this time of year because it is best to attempt it before the foliage emerges, at which point the views of the gorge are obscured. We lunched at the overlook and then backtracked along the Bluff Trail and Appalachian Trail to the parking area. The hike was about 13 miles, with 2370 feet of elevation gain, but for the most part the ascents were gradual. There were eight of us in all, plus two others who did a modified version of the hike, taking the Bluff Trail to the Big Devils Stairs Trail, the Big Devils Trail to the overlook, and then backtracking to the parking area; even that modified hike is at least 8 miles. It was quite cold in the morning when we began, but it warmed up quickly, without a cloud in the sky. It was a splendid group hike and, like everything that AD and RH superintend, thoroughly well-organized.
This day has another significance for me. One year ago today I began writing this journal, anticipating that the virus would have a significant impact on the days to come and desiring to have some sort of record so that after the crisis ended and matters returned back to normal I could look upon these notes and say, “Yes, this is how things were during that time.”
Some sort of retrospective seems in order. There will be a kind of mirror-imaging in this entry. My first entry began with a summation of the events leading up to the present and mused on how privations would increase in the future, noting the inroads that the pandemic had already made in our daily lives. As I sum up the overall effect of the past year, today I concentrate on how the privations have been lifted and on the likelihood of our returning to normalcy soon. And, as is appropriate for someone of my preferences, both entries contain a hike description.
I have already noted that grocery shopping (always a factor of importance in any long-term emergency) is almost completely restored to normal. The only sign seen now from the impact of COVID is the wearing of facemasks by employees and customers alike. No items are missing from the shelves, and people are no longer hoarding. Bread-making activity, in all probability, has become less frequent; and yeast, which for several months was one of the most difficult items to obtain, is now available not only in individual packets but in 4-ounce jars.
Personal health has remained unaffected, chiefly, as I believe, because I have managed to keep active during the entire period of the pandemic. In this of course I have had certain advantages. Unlike several countries in Europe, the U.S. never imposed any restrictions on how far one could venture out of doors for exercise. Consequently I was able to extend my hiking over a fairly wide range, ultimately being able to traverse, in stages, the entire northern portion of the Appalachian Trail in Pennsylvania, journeying to trailheads well over a four-hour drive from my house.
We are still wearing facemasks while walking out of doors along the streets. In parts of the country facemasks out of doors have been abandoned altogether, and there are signs that, as a greater number of people become vaccinated, the same practice will prevail here. The trends that have forced people to lead more isolated lives are beginning to relax, and it seems likely that social life will begin for move again. I still keep a facemask in the car whenever I drive, even if my destination is a lonely trailhead. It is always a possibility that I might encounter an emergency and be forced to enter a store for some unforeseen reason. Again, if a serviceman is scheduled to show up at my house, I put on a mask before the time he is expected to arrive, so that I don’t have to make a mad dash for one before opening the door whenever he knocks. Eventually such precautions will no longer be needed, but we are not at that stage yet.
Social life now resembles a tentative budding and germination analogous to the re-emerging plant life of early spring, primarily as a result of the rollout of the vaccines. For instance, I will be receiving my second dose in a week, after which I will at long last be able to visit my aunt in New York and to properly celebrate her 90th birthday, which occurred last July. The cousin who lives in Chile is planning to visit her mother in May. I will be able to visit the homes of people who have been vaccinated and be able to receive inoculated people in my own home. I have already related how the Capital Hiking Club is planning to resume its hikes in a chartered bus, beginning in August. The Wanderbirds will probably follow suit, although perhaps beginning hikes with bus rides at a later date.
Entertainment is still in abeyance. Some theaters and concert halls are attempting to obtain revenue through streaming performances. I sympathize with their attempts, but I’m afraid that these are a poor substitute for live performances. A few Broadway theaters are planning to open for various events next month, but no live productions are currently projected before autumn. This means that everyone who obtains his or her livelihood through live performance will have been out of work for a year and a half, and how they will be able to sustain themselves over such a period I do not know.
Travel, on the other hand, is beginning to revive. My projected visit to my aunt, as well as another trip planned in April to the Midwest, are typical of the plans of many who have received their vaccine and feel at liberty to move about after the danger of contracting the virus has become less acute. The CDC, it is true, has recommended to hold back on travel for the time being. But it seems likely that such recommendations will have little effect. People are tired of being nailed down to a single location for months on end; and, with the protection that inoculation confers, the dangers of traveling seem less pressing. At this point traveling for pleasure is mainly limited within the confines of the country. But it is possible, even probable, that international travel will become feasible as well in the course of a few months. Already I have two trips planned with a group of hiking friends: one, in June, to King’s Canyon and Sequoia National Park, and the second, in September, to the French Alps.
Of course from a national point of view the two main events of the past year were the pandemic with its attendant ravages and the debacle of the national election – and the two are closely intertwined. Had Donald Trump displayed the slightest sense of responsibility when the pandemic struck and had he encouraged the country to rally behind him in confronting it, he would have had a very good chance of winning the presidential election, in which case the sorry spectacle of his attempting a coup d’état by means of incessant lawsuits and the subsequent besiegement of the Capitol would never have taken place. A leader who exerts a reassuring presence in the midst of a long-term national crisis is almost certain to secure the support of the electorate. Even in the case of people whose mindsets are similar to my own – I would still have detested him for his blatant corruption, his nepotism, and his disastrous co-opting of various national agencies; I would still have voted for his opponent no matter who that opponent may have been – but I would not regard him, as I do now, as the president who presided over the most calamitous administration in the history of the nation. (That dubious distinction would have been awarded instead either to James Buchanan or Woodrow Wilson.) He would have gone down in history merely as a bad president, but not necessarily one of the worst.
Instead, for some inexplicable reason, from the onset he looked upon the entire pandemic crisis as a conspiracy to discredit him and hindered the efforts of everyone who had the appropriate medical knowledge or administrative powers to prevent the virus from spreading. The steady decline in the number of COVID infections and deaths that we are currently experiencing cannot be credited to him; the merit of that belongs to Biden, who aggressively promoted the vaccines and supplied the states with resources to roll them out as rapidly as possible. We still account for nearly 25% of all COVID infections worldwide and over 20% of all COVID-related deaths, although our population is a mere 4% of the population of the world; and this sorry result is the direct consequence of the misguided policies of Trump’s pitifully inept response to the pandemic when it first appeared.
At this point, incidentally, Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort has closed its dining room and suspended beach club services to guests due to a COVID-19 outbreak among its staff. “The mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind exceedingly small.”
Today’s statistics as of 8:00 PM – # of cases worldwide: 123,409,813; # of deaths worldwide: 2,721,187; # of cases U.S.: 30,479,489; # of deaths; U.S.: 554,859.
The link to the complete journal is: https://betulacordifolia.com/?order=asc