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 20th 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.