The Navajo Bridge (up near Page, AZ) is the first place that the Grand Canyon is narrow enough to put a bridge. It is also a place with California Condors.

When I was there last year, not a one was to be seen. But this time . . .

Under the Bridge; Over the Colorado

I was standing on an older, discontinued bridge, and that condor is on the underneath superstructure of the new bridge.

Oh, look! It’s good old #73.

#73

Obviously, they tag them and keep careful track of them.

Here are a few more shots.

Hangin’ Lose

It looks to be doing a bit of grooming.

Grooming

At Zion National Park (which supposedly also has a few of the condors), it was pointed out that they really aren’t much more than oversize turkey vultures.

Condor

Yeah, but . . .

They have a nine-foot wingspan.

From Navajo Bridge we entered the Grand Canyon National Park at the east entrance, stopping at Desert View. I used my photo stitching software to create this panorama shot.

Desert View Panorama

(Click for the 2400×482 pixel version.)

The right side shows the Colorado River coming at us from the north, and the left side shows it heading away towards the west.

It’s worth the trip.

There’s a tale to tell.

I mentioned in yesterday’s entry that I was getting a bit footsore. I normally just don’t put that much mileage (8.5 miles followed by 5.4 miles) on my feet. So we had to decide what we wanted to do.

Ian was having trouble of his own.

When we went up the Watchman Trail, Ian wore his Vibrams. He generally prefers to go barefoot, but his job requires full military boots, so that makes his feet soft and generally unsuitable for long barefoot hikes.

Looking Up Zion Canyon

When we went up to Observation Point (with me in my starring role as “The Blue Monk”), he wore his military boots because of the distance.

The Unconformity

But he noticed one of the problems with boots.

He’d been having trouble with one of his knees, and the boots just exacerbated that. They allowed him to overdo things without realizing it.

So, when we went up Huber Wash, he was back to the Vibrams, and also used hiking poles (as you can see in this picture).

Vibrams in Huber Wash

(He also happens to be holding my hiking stick for me to take the picture.)

But I’m sure you noticed that he was barefoot on the Angel’s Landing hike.

Heading Back Down

He started out with the Vibrams, but his knee was still bothering him. So he decided to take them off and see how things went barefoot.

They went perfectly. The sandstone rocks were an ideal barefooting surface (not too many rough spots). But his bare feet also gave him feedback directly from his soles that the Vibrams were incapable of. That meant that he was able to consistently place his feet in a way that did not hurt his knee.

That’s what bare feet do.

I mentioned in yesterday’s entry about how crowded the trail was (Zion National Superhighway) and that a lot of people commented on our bare feet. It really was good exposure for lots of people to see just what bare feet can easily do. We got lots of comments and we told a lot of people just how well they worked. A few were even tempted to join us (but, unfortunately, so many are tempted but in the end back out).

However, the highlight of the hike happened as we were heading down, right after the picture above.

We met this couple that was coming up!

They were also doing the hike barefoot.

We had a nice little chat exchanging observations on how well bare feet worked, and then we went our separate ways.

But it is nice to know that others not only “get it”, they “get it” and follow through.

Eventually we decided we’d go for the challenging Angel’s Landing, with a nearly 1500 foot climb and a 5.4 mile round trip.

Here’s a map of the Angel’s Landing hike.

Angel’s Landing Topo Map

Here’s the view as you approach the first set of switchbacks.

Switchbacks

Those little dots are people partway up. Here you can see them a bit better.

The Cliff Face

This trail is not for those with a fear of heights. And it only gets worse.

Refrigerator Canyon is really pretty. Here’s my son Ian shortly at the top of that first set of switchbacks.

In Refrigerator Canyon

As I said, this is not the place for a fear of heights. Here’s Ian again after the second set of switchbacks. Here we are barely on the knife’s edge.

Standing At the Beginning of the Edge

At this point the trail has a sheer drop-off on my right and a wall on the left.

Along the knife’s edge (about halfway along) was this nice little “throne”.

King of All He Surveys

The entire trail here is about twice the width of the picture and has steep drop-offs on both sides.

While up there Ian got this shot of me near the edge.

The Virgin River Below

You can see the Virgin River below, part of the Zion road, and that mesa is called “The Throne”.

And here’s another shot from the same place, looking ahead at the trail.

Approaching the Last Peak

Yes, it goes up that narrow bit of rock to the high point.

At this point I should add that quite a few folks commented on my bare feet. Some were concerned; others thought it was a great idea. I kept reassuring everybody how great it felt, and kept repeating

Toes are for gripping . . .

Most of them understood completely.

Here’s Ian almost to the tip.

Along the Tip of the Edge

That was marvelous sandstone to walk on.

And here’s Ian with Observation Point in the background.

Observation Point from Angel’s Landing

(Observation Point is the highest point in this photo.)

Going back the way we came, you can see Refrigerator Canyon squeezed to the left of that narrow mesa.

Heading Back Down

By the way, yes, this is as scary as it looks, even if you are not afraid of heights. The secret is not to walk and look at scenery at the same time. Walk a bit, watching carefully where you step (regardless of whether you are barefoot or not, though going barefoot a lot is good training for it). Then stop, admire the scenery, and start up again.

In an earlier entry I had referred to the Observation Point trail as Zion National Superhighway. Well, I was wrong. The Angel’s Landing trail is the Zion National Superhighway. Just look at all these people on the switchbacks at the north end of Refrigerator Canyon.

The Edge Switchbacks From Above

This was without a doubt the best hike we took (though the others had their virtues) at Zion.

And bare feet on the sandstone made it even better.

So, here in Zion, after hitting Observation Point, we went to Huber Wash.

If you haven’t heard of Huber Wash, you’re not alone. It’s not along the Zion main drag. In fact, it is outside the Canyon, in an area called the Southwest Desert. You can see it on this map.

Location of Huber Wash

It’s a “wash” because it is usually dry. But the occasional flash flood comes through, and that gives it its character. The Wash sits in its own canyon—just not a canyon as spectacular as Zion.

Finding it was a bit tricky. There is a roadside parking area on either side of the wash—we chose the more westerly one. We had to pass through a gate with the warning to close it behind. This land isn’t even in Zion; it is state-owned. However, going north a short distance puts on into the park proper.

Here are my son Ian and me just starting to head up the Wash.

Starting Up the Wash

The desert flora is so different from what I am used to. Here’s a Soaptree Yucca hybrid.

Yucca

(Yes, I bought an identification book.)

And a close-up of the flowers.

Yucca Flowers

There were also an awful lot of these plants.

Milkvetch

Along the way, all I managed to do was identify it as a legume (the leaves and pods are a dead giveaway). Back in camp with the book though, that is a Specklepod Milkvetch.

There was also this Claret-Cup Cactus.

Claret-Cup Cactus

I was tending to think everything was a Prickly-Pear until I realized that the body wasn’t flat, but barrel-shaped.

Continuing up the Wash we were presented with a great view of Mt. Kinesava. (We see the other side of it from our campsite.)

Mt. Kinesava

Eventually we made it to the dryfall of Huber Wash.

The Huber Wash Dryfall

It is pretty reminiscent of the recess caves in Hocking Hills. And it wasn’t a complete dryfall—there was some water dripping down (you can see the plants taking advantage of that).

According to my hiking guide (Hiking Zion & Bryce Canyon National Parks, by Molvar and Martin), it was supposedly possible to scramble up to the top of that.

Hikers who are prepared to hike out along the Chinle Trail can bypass the dryfall obstacle. Backtrack approximately 100 feet and climb over boulders onto the shelf located on the left (west) side of the canyon. Seek out a narrow chimney through which you can climb out onto the mesa above.

So we took a shot at it. Here’s one of the “boulders”.

Bouldering

It’s really not a “chimney” you are looking for, but a side tributary to the main Huber Wash channel. It has its own little dryfall that’s just not as high up as the main one.

The Route Up

It was actually pretty fun to climb up that (and bare feet sure helped).

From on top of the mesa the view of Mt. Kinesava was even better.

A Closer Mt. Kinesava

Here’s the view looking down from atop the dryfall.

Dryfall From Above

Finally, this whole area has a petrified forest. We came across a few pieces of petrified logs. Like this one:

A Petrified Log

Heading up to Observation Point was like hiking the Zion National superhighway. Huber Wash? Not so much. There was one other car at the trailhead (from Alaska!), and we never met them on the hike. Glorious solitude.

The trip back down the wash was equally interesting, except we missed our location to climb out of the wash to get to our car. Lost? Not really. We were both experienced woodsmen, and that translates pretty well to desertsmen. We knew which way to do a bit of cross-country, and met up with the gate (and car) easily.

By the way, people ask about snakes in the southwest. Quite frankly, the vegetation is far enough apart that I think one would show up pretty easily. It’s the eastern forested mountains you need to be more careful in.

And would it be a problem to hike it barefoot?

The Observation Point Trail is one of the premier hikes at Zion. It starts near Weeping Rock at about 4350 feet and heads up to the point at around 6510. Better yet, Observation Point provides a clear view down the Zion Canyon. (Why do you think it’s called “Observation Point”???).

Zion National Park (similarly to the Grand Canyon) has instituted a shuttle bus system. No cars are allowed past a certain point up the Canyon (reduces both traffic and air pollution—who wants the views at Zion clouded up by smog?). I had a bit of concern about boarding the bus barefoot. They had no rule against it, but one never knows if an overly officious driver will throw a snit.

I had no problem, and my son and I exited at Weeping Rock. Weeping Rock, while interesting, was a bit of a glorified Hocking Hills (well, aside from being in a cliff face 5 times higher ). But it was the climb up to Observation Point we were interested in: an 8-mile round trip advertised to take 5 hours.

Of course the scenery was spectacular, and guaranteed to shock anybody out of depressive tendencies. Here’s just one of the spectacular rock formations within the first half-mile.

Starting Up to Observation Point

I have to mention that the Observation Point Trail is a bit of a superhighway. A lot of people make the climb. We met or passed people probably every 5-10 minutes. And that meant that my doing the hike barefooted excited comment.

It was an excellent opportunity for proselytation. I’m not sure anybody bit, but they at least learned a little. (I’ve said this before, but the sort of people who do this sort of thing are actually quite receptive to the idea of going barefoot all the time—you can be sure that they are not the Wal-Mart greeter-type.)

Some people were interested, and asked me about it. Others, I don’t think even noticed. Yet others probably noticed, but were didn’t say anything. And then there were those who I shocked out of their gourds: “Holy crap!”

Anyways, one of the couple we ended up talking to were kind enough to take this picture of Ian (my son) and me on the way up.

Still Heading Up

One of the most spectacular and scenic parts of the ascent is the area around Echo Canyon. Just as you approach it is this area. Obviously, it is usually a dry wash, but equally obviously, you can see how swirling water has shaped the rocks. It’s hard not to suffer from sensory overload.

Above the Abyss

In Echo Canyon itself is a wonderful geologic lesson. Here is an unconformity, helpfully pointed out by Ian.

The Unconformity

What happened here is that layers and layers of rock were laid down. Eventually, they were tilted by tectonic forces, and even later a lot of that was eroded away to a flat surface. But then deposition started again, leaving this dramatic pause in the geologic record.

Of course, just because there is a geologic lesson doesn’t mean that one cannot goof off, just for goofing off’s sake. (There were some nice footholds eroded into the rock, though.)

Goofing Off

On our return trip through this area, I had an interesting converation with an elderly gentleman (“elderly” is anybody older than me—I may be old, but I’m not “elderly”!). He thought my being barefoot was wonderful. He even told me that, before he retired, he used to work for the University of Montana, doing gardening and landscaping. The University actually let him do it barefooted! And he did. (Unfortunately, I suspect that has gone by the wayside these days.)

The desert flora is completely new and exciting to me. I’m used to what is in Ohio. So seeing new plant life is just as interesting.

On our way up, there was this:

Evening Primrose Catching a Nap

Actually, it looks a bit pathetic. Later though, and after it had rained a bit, we found this:

Evening Primrose

Hey, caught a bloomer. I had to end up buying a book on desert plant life to identify it (hey, that’s half the fun of this!). That is a Tufted Evening Primrose (Oenothera caespitosa).

Earlier I mentioned that the trail was to a large extent “paved”. Ahead of time, I was concerned that that meant just standard asphalt (ye gads). No, it was an old technique from quite a few years back. The surface was kind of like concrete, but more like a solidified clay, quite pleasant to walk on. And it was old, so there were quite a few places where the “paving” was removed and the underlying rocks shown through.

Occasionally the workers who had made it (“poured” doesn’t quite fit—it
was more like masonry) stepped on it, and there were quite a few places
with shoeprints embedded in the surface.

But not everywhere—when I came across this I just had to take a picture of it.

A Paved Footprint

I have no idea if this was the product of a barefooted worker, or if he specially took off his boots to make his mark. But it was fun to see it there.

We made it to Observation Point. Here’s my son on the edge, with the view down the Canyon.

Looking “Down-Canyon”

If you are ever there in Zion, you have to make this hike. (And you should consider training for and doing it barefoot.)

Oh, you may be wondering why the title of this entry is “The Blue Monk”.

Well, let me say that when I headed Out West last year, there was not a drop of rain the entire time. This time, however, we got pretty wet at the Colorado National Monument. And, at Observation Point, just after we had lunch and took some pictures, it started to rain again.

So I got out our ponchos and we, along with a lot of other hikers, started heading back down.

Again, I attracted some comments about my bare feet, but the poncho really added a certain panache to that.

The Blue Monk

I got called “The Blue Monk”. I can’t blame them; in fact, I really like the picture. The poncho makes a nice cowl.

And the bare feet are so . . . medieval.

However, by the time we cut back to Zion National Park, it had cleared and the sun was out.

Hurray!

We had reservations at the Watchman Campground, so the first order of business was to get the tent out and erected, to give it a chance to dry out. Easily said — easily done. Things picked up immediately.

By 2:30 we were all set up and ready to head out.

From the Watchman Campground we headed to the Watchman trail, which heads up the side of Zion Canyon. It was just a short 2.7 mile jaunt.

Again, western vegetation is so different from what I am used to in Ohio. Here’s a blooming Prickly Pear along the path.

Prickly Pear

And then there was this gorgeous bush.

I Need To Buy A Desert Plant Identification Book

I have no idea what color that it. I have no idea what kind of bush it is.

Near the top of the trail we were getting just a taste of what we hope is to come on our stay. Here’s my son with the other side of the Canyon in view (Mt. Kinesava).

The View Across

As you can see, he’s wearing Vibrams. He goes barefoot when he can, but that’s not very often, so his feet just aren’t quite up to longer hikes.

Here we are on the loop at the end of the trail. That’s the Watchman in the background.

The Watchman Watching Ian and Me

Out on the tip of the loop was a great view looking north up Zion Canyon.

Looking Up Zion Canyon

I had to pose there, too.

Up Zion

Looking the other direction we could see the opening of the Canyon, where the North Fork of the Virgin River joins the East Fork.

Watchman Campground

The very light green section in the middle is our campground.

After all the rain to get here, our first half day was a great start to the visit.

Our first stop was the Colorado National Monument.

In case you don’t know where the Colorado National Monument is, it’s pretty close to Interstate 70 pretty close to the western border of Colorado. It’s just a bit west of Grand Junction, which is the grand junction of the Colorado and Gunnison Rivers. On the north side of the Colorado is the Grand Valley and the Little Book Cliffs.

On the south side are some spectacular mesas: the Colorado National Monument is nestled in there. The campground juts out from one of the mesas. From our particular campsite (the place was only half full), we had a spectacular view across the valley.

Panoramic View from the Colorado National Monument

(Click for 1200×330 pixel version.)

It was kind of drizzly when we arrived, with worse weather threatening. But we got a short break in the action and were able to get our tent up, and take a short walk around the end of the mesa.

We had a good view of the road leading up the mesa. We navigated these two tunnels on our way up.

Access Road Tunnels From Above

Just a bit past the tunnels on the up we drove by “Balancing Rock”.

Balancing Rock

More to the east was this chunk of rock just sitting there.

The View

You can see the Colorado River heading west behind it.

Looking more northeast (and closer) are the Little Book Cliffs. That’s my son with the Cliffs way in the background.

Ian On The Mesa

And for good measure, I stood in the same spot.

Me, too

Of course, western vegetation is so different from what I see in Ohio. I’m pretty sure this is an agave of some sort, just starting to bloom.

Bloomin’ Agave

Continuing around the tip of the mesa, we came to one of the washes that drain it. I just love the layering, and the juniper wood just adds to the atmosphere.

Mesa Wash

Much of the surface was really interesting for going barefoot. It was kind of sandy, but with a really sticky sand. In the South Dakota Badlands they call it “gumbo”, which I think is a pretty good name for it. Here’s my footprint in it.

“Gumbo” Footprint

Don’t forget that it was rather wet from recent rains. But, as you can see, it really isn’t behaving like wet sand, but like a material all its own.

Sunset lit up the cliffs in the distance, leaving our campsite mostly in shadow.

Campsite at Sunset

Just as I took that picture it started to rain again, so into our tent we scurried. And listened to it rain all night long.

It was still raining in the morning, but around 6:30am there was a brief respite. We managed to fit most of our gear into the back seat of our car, and then just stuffed the tent, barely folded and soaking wet, into a trunk that hangs off our trailer hitch.

And we were off . . .

I thought I’d discuss my pack preferences.

Of course, these are my preferences. You’re free to do whatever works for you; I’m just saying that this works for me.

The fanny pack that I carry is a Kelty Hawkeye. It’s the largest volume fanny pack I’ve been able to find. It also has various loops so that, if I wanted, I could attach stuff.

The Kelty Hawkeye

What’s nice about it (and why it really needs to be worn as a fanny pack, not a belly pack) is the two water pouches, one on each side. I usually put a liter bottle on each side (though I’ve even managed to fit 1.5 liter bottles when hiking in the desert at Chaco Canyon). I can also carry a fair bit of stuff: a small medkit, some spare clothing, a windbreaker, a bivvy sack (just in case), some 550 paracord, and a tripod for my camera. (I’ve mentioned before that I put my camera case on the belt in the front, so that the camera is easily accessible.)

When it comes to full backpacks that carry 40-60% of the load at the waist, as far as I can tell that applies more to internal frame packs. I have one, but I really don’t like it.

As you can see, the way the straps attached, you have to carry weight on the shoulders. There’s no way to arrange it otherwise.

My High Sierra Internal Frame Pack

As you can see, the attach point for the shoulder straps is low enough on the pack that at least some weight (60-40%, whatever the belt isn’t carrying) is on the shoulders.

And that means that the weight is on my spine. My spine doesn’t like weight. I have vertebrae down there that hate it.

Fortunately, there is another option: an external frame pack. Now, you can arrange the straps on an external frame pack so that the weight is distributed like it is for an internal (40/60), but you don’t have to, and I don’t.

I set it up so that all the weight is carried by my hips.

Here’s a picture of my son with a Jansport pack with no weight on the shoulders.

A Jansport External Frame Pack

As you can see, the attach points are above the level of the shoulders. All the shoulder straps do is keep the pack from rotating backwards, but all the weight is on the hips/belt.

This really works for me (and my son prefers it, too).

My pack is actually an even larger Jansport, the D2, with a total capacity of 5520 cu. in. (90,000 cu. cm or 90 liters). As I look at the brochure that came with it, it says

With proper care, your Jansport will last a lifetime.

Mine has lasted since the mid-1980s and it is still going strong. (I did replace the sweat-encrusted shoulder straps, but that’s it.) You can kind of see it at this picture from Conkles Hollow.

My Jansport D2

Obviously, which pack to use is a highly personal preference. But maybe I’ve given you some suggestions that resonate.

I’ve queued up a few entries to fill things a bit.

But with any luck I’ll be able to post new stuff as I go along.

So check back occasionally, or if you get my facebook feed you’ll see when it post.

But I bet it’s not what you think.

Here’s the story.

We have two Krogers in our neighborhood. The older one is the larger one, and I had shopped there for a long time. Shortly after it opened, when I was shopping there one of the Assistant Managers mentioned to me, nicely, that I had to wear shoes in there.

Me: Oh. How come?

Asst. Mgr: It’s required by the health codes.

Me: Oh, I have a letter here from the Health Department that shows that that is just a myth.

Asst. Mgr: Really? I love to go barefoot. Can I make a copy of it?

Me: You can have this one.

So from then on, I always shopped there confident that I would not be hassled for being barefoot. In fact, everybody there knew of me as their barefoot customer. I can say that I’ve never worn footwear in that store.

I’ve even helped them out: one time I stepped in a puddle from a leaking freezer. Being barefoot, of course I felt it and was able to alert them before some shod customer slipped in it and hurt themselves.

Eventually, Kroger built another one (quite a bit smaller) nearer to my house, so I started shopping there. Not surprisingly, the new Kroger was seeded with employees from the older one, so they all knew me and I became their barefooted customer. From what I can tell, they’ve even had a few manager changes and the “thought” that barefooted customers are allowed has been passed on. I even got into a lot of very nice discussions with one of their managers.

I still occasionally go to the larger Kroger. Being larger, they have a better selection on quite a few items.

So anyways, when I was in the older, larger Kroger, the employee who approached me was one I’d seen many times in the smaller one, and who must’ve been on loan at the larger one. So she was surprised to see me. Compared to where she usually saw me, I was in the “wrong” store.

But that’s all it was.

It is really, really nice to be known in this fashion and not have to worry about some sudden change. (I had that happen with a restaurant another barefoot friend of mine and I had been going to for 10 years—suddenly the owner noticed us and got all persnickety. End of 10 years of patronage.)

But I have to say that it was probably happenstance. If the Assistant Manager on duty that day so long ago had been anti-barefoot, I would have been out of luck, and any appeal to headquarters would have been useless. (I’d actually had that happen with a Kroger near where I worked.)

Shortly after that older Kroger opened, Big Bear (another grocery chain) moved in next door. On my second visit the Manager kicked me out. So I’ve never been there since and Kroger has gotten all my grocery money. (I do most of the food shopping for our family.)

Something similar could have happened at Kroger, and I am thankful it didn’t. But I think this also shows just how random barefoot bans are. They all just depend on which set of people happen to be on duty.

It’s also a bit depressing, in that if that is what is going on, there’s really not any way to battle it, and no good strategy one can use. You have to try your best, but in the end, it’s the luck of the draw.

That also says a lot about how corporations act. Here they spend tons of money on advertising and other come-ons trying to attract customers, yet they are willing, based entirely on luck, on alienating those very same customers.

And that can really make them a wrong store.

Spring was continuing to pop.

I only did about 4 miles of hiking, but I had two pretty good ascents. One was from 780 feet in elevation to 1140 (360 feet) and the other was from around 800 to about 1080 (280). That’ll get your heart pumping.

The dogwoods were in bloom.

Dogwoods Along the Fern Trail

There were trilliums (trillia?) everywhere.

A Trillium

I even passed by a couple of Jacks-in-the-Pulpit.

Jacks-in-the-Pulpit

When I was on the O’Meara O’Vencha Hike 2½ weeks ago, I took a picture of the skunk cabbage at Lake Ramona.

Skunk Cabbage

Here’s the updated version.

Later Skunk Cabbage

It’s really coming along.

One feature that Clear Creek has that is always interesting is the Water Horsetail. This is a gymnosperm (gymosperm: naked seed) that reproduces via spores, so it belongs to an ancient class of plants. It is also called scourbrush. It has a very high silica content, sand, and was used by Native Americans and early settlers to clean and scrape things.

Horsetail Along Clear Creek

One thing that you can see in this picture (in addition to the horsetail) is that Clear Creek isn’t very clear. It used to be, when it was named, but these days with all the farms upstream a lot of mud and silt gets into it. The hillside streams that feed it are still clear, though.

Here’s the creek that runs alongside the bottom of the Hemlock Trail.

Along the Hemlock Trail

Crystal clear. It also give you a glimpse of the Blackhand Sandstone formations in the park. They’re not super-spectacular but are nonetheless pretty typical. You can even see a small recess cave heading back in to the rock (about 8 feet).

One nice thing about this hike is that I could do it much more leisurely than the Adventure Hikes. On those hikes we are really trucking, so most of my photos tend to be where we stop at a particular feature, or the picnic area. Here I had a chance just to stop when I felt like it.

Here’s a close-up view of the previous photograph showing all the growth on the rock face, and a little waterfall.

Rock Face and Waterfall

I am actually quite fortunate to have such a pretty and engaging park within 45 minutes of my home.

We will surely miss him.

I’d never really had much interaction with Native American culture. I went with my family to some of the local pow-wows put on by NAICCO. I had an interest in the historical aspects of the earthworks in Newark, and goofed around with some local Native languages (simply because I was fascinated by the “-ing” suffix on many local rivers). I probably have a smidgeon of Native ancestry, but it is so far back that no part of its culture has survived in our family. So it really didn’t impact me at all.

I went on the walk because it looked interesting.

It was. And Mark was one of the reasons it was interesting, a wonderful learning experience. And rewarding.

And it allowed me to spend time with him for the last four years, when I’d find him at exploratory walks around Newark, at the Octagon Open House, an occasional pow-wow, or even occasionally on an official hike somewhere.

Here are just a few photos of how I remember him. (Many of the photos taken by Tim Black.) Obviously, I really only knew him peripherally, not like family or close friends. Nonetheless, I feel tremendously honored to have counted him among my friends.

Mark was one of the drummers and singers on the Walk with the Ancients. Here he is as we prepared ourselves to start the walk.

Mark in the Drumming Circle

He was, of course, a drummer and singer for much more than the walk—he was always at the pow-wows as a prominent and valued feature.

While on the Walk we camped a few nights at Rock Mill. This picture is so quintessentially Mark.

A Good Time at Rock Mill

He was always enjoying himself, and always had a witty comment.

I thought I’d also include this picture of his daughter, Taeya, who went with us on the walk.

Taeya (I hope I’m spelling that right)

Mark took care of family. The bonds all of us had formed on the hike meant that, when Taeya was playing soccer in Pickerington, I came to watch the game.

Back at Rock Mill, Mark and I were talking.

At Rock Mill

Yet another shot from Rock Mill.

Mitakuye Oyasin

This was the evening of Columbus Day, and Mark led some very interesting discussions around the campfire. What I learned the most from Mark was Mitakuye Oyasin, “we are all related”.

Mark lived it. He taught it. He taught us to value it.

One of the nights on the Walk we had dinner in a local church in Baltimore (OH). I love this picture of Mark in the drumming circle.

Drumming Circle

Keep in mind that these are religious—spiritual. It is another aspect of what Mark taught to me.

For a few years afterwards, the “Walk with the Ancients” morphed into a class at OSU-Newark. Of course Mark was part of it. Here he is, front and center, singing and playing a hand drum.

Another “Walk with the Ancients” Group

Some of us original walkers were invited for the final day, so here’s a shot of those of us who could make it that day.

L. to R.: Joe Kennedy, Brian Higgins, Hunter Garner, Bob Neinast, Mark Welsh, Bob Pond

There’s Mark, between me and Bob Pond.

As the focus of the Newark Earthworks Center shifted a bit, it added walking tours to find remaining remnants of the Earthworks. Mark was part of that, too.

Here’s the crowd (that’s Mark on the left) starting out last August. (I called it A Walk with the Currents.

The (Not So Ancient) Current Walkers

I’d also run into Mark when I’d least expect it. Last October there was a hike at Blackhand Gorge, and there he was. It was a nice time to visit a bit. While the ranger leading the hike could give us some of the more recent history, Mark gave us the significance of the place from a Native perspective.

I last saw Mark on April 20. There was another Newark earthworks tour.

At the Burial Mounds

This is the location of where there were many burial mounds. We’d always stop there and Mark would sing and say a prayer, and teach us all of what went on before.

As always, his humor also came through. We got talking about the Lakota language and the different dialects (like Dakota, Lakota, and Nakota, related to how different sounds had evolved). Mark made the joke that people sometimes had trouble understanding him, since he spoke his own dialect: Markota.

On that last tour of Newark, Larry, another of the original Walkers showed up. So here’s my last picture of Mark, as he and Larry returned to the Great Circle at the end of the tour.

Mark with Larry

Sigh.

Mark will be greatly missed.

[Edited to fix the spelling of Taeya's name.]

So, here goes . . .

First, let me remind folks that an email address to write me about the blog is given on the About page. I’m reluctant to put it too many places just because that encourages spammers. And I may not respond immediately, so give me some time.

Anyways, one of the questions I was asked about was temperature control. At what age is there good enough temperature control in a toddler for their feet not to get too cold, especially if they aren’t very good at telling us about it?

I haven’t seen any studies about this, but in answer I would keep in mind that human kids have gone barefoot a loooooonnnnnggggg time in all sorts of conditions. If feet were that easily damaged by chilly temperatures, nobody would have made it to adulthood and we would have died out. This has not just been at our roots in Africa, but all over the world (and don’t think for a moment that it doesn’t get cold in Africa at night).

I think that what applies to adults applies to toddlers, too. Shoes restrict blood flow, so naked feet can stay warmer to a lot colder temperatures than you’d think.

There is also nothing special about feet that doesn’t also apply to hands. As I’ve noted many times before, they are physiologically (and genetically, when it comes to gene expression) very similar. In addition, a toddler’s feet are much closer to their core, absolutely and relatively speaking, than any adult’s feet. (Let me explain that: their feet are absolutely closer because the toddlers are smaller in general; their feet are relatively closer because their legs are smaller, in relation to the rest of their body, because they haven’t grown out yet.)

So, if you are comfortable with your toddler being bare-handed, then you probably ought to be comfortable with your toddler being barefooted. If in doubt, just grab their foot (or hand) for a moment: if it feels cold, do something about it. Also, keep in mind that toddlers, even if pre-verbal, can probably do something on their own.

Our kids, when they were small, were wont to taking off all their clothing. (Yes, this is common.) When we decided we wanted them to wear more, we’d open up the windows. The house would cool down, and all of a sudden the kids would figure out how to put on their clothing.

One caveat on all this: I’ve been talking about cooler temperatures. When it comes to bare feet, don’t forget that outside asphalt can get very hot in the summertime. If your kid is barefoot, you should be barefoot, too, so you can test it. Note that this also applies to pets—it is very easy for them to burn their feet on sun-baked surfaces. If you cannot handle a surface barefoot, your pet shouldn’t have to, either.

The second question related to toddlers asked about their soft bones and whether modern-world concrete is too hard.

Again, I’ll relate this to adults.

We have podiatrists who are sure it’s a problem. In HuffPo HuffPoo, I quoted a Huffington Post article by a Dr. Robert Kornfeld:

Barefoot running shoes are designed to re-create a “natural,” barefoot running dynamic on “unnatural” surfaces like concrete, asphalt, red top, black top, etc. How can we have a barefoot running shoe? Doesn’t barefoot denote without shoes?

Choosing to run on non-yielding surfaces without the protection afforded by proper running shoes can be harmful to the foot and ankle and cause even more problems downstream from compensation patterns. So what really are these pedal marvels and why is everyone running to take their shoes off?

All I can say is that any podiatrist who says this has never actually tried hiking (or running) barefoot. They’ve never hiked over sunbaked clay, like I have. They’ve never hiked a place like Chaco Canyon, like I have.

Jackson Staircase

Dr. Daniel Lieberman backs me up:

It’s as if I’m suggesting something that’s not normal. Until the mid-1970s nobody wore a shoe with a cushioned heel; what we think is normal is profoundly and unquestionably abnormal. People say, “Well, now we run on concrete,” but I’ve run on almost every continent, and the entire world has been hard for a long time. The Serengeti where I run is hard.

OK, that’s for adults. What about for toddlers with softer bones?

Well, in the past they also grew up in these sorts of hard-surface environments. But another thing to keep in mind is that toddlers have tremendous fat pads—those provide a lot of cushioning. (They also caused misdiagnoses of flat feet because the pad obscured the arch.) I just don’t see how it could be a problem.

By the way, while writing this, I came upon the following page: Things Every Parent should know about their children’s feet. It’s more gobbledygook.

Here’s what they say about soft bones:

A baby’s foot contains more cartilage than bone, which, over time, will fuse and harden into adult bones. Although the structure of the foot develops fully by the first 2 years, the bones themselves will not fully develop and harden until around the age of 18. This is why it is crucial to have good shoes early on, so that the bones are allowed to develop naturally.

Uh, hello. If you put feet into shoes they are not developing naturally.

And then there is this:

Kids’ feet endure about 3 times more stress than the average adult foot. This is because of children’s high activity levels and greater proportion of high impact activities compared with adults. When was the last time you jumped out of a tree? Because of the high stress that a child’s foot endures, children should wear shoes with good shock absorption, a well-made foot bed, and durable soles.

Really? A kid might weight 40 pounds while an adult weighs 200 pounds. That would have to be a pretty tall tree just to equal the stress from each time the adult puts his foot down.

Anyways, toddlers ought to be able to go barefoot just fine. You need a little common sense with what they are walking on, but always keep in mind that, until not that long ago, shoes were a luxury that were reserved for adults (or only extremely cold temperatures).

It shows that training in what they call “mobility shoes” (designed to mimic barefoot walking) can lessen the stress on the knees even when regular shoes are then worn.

The new study is Improvement in knee loading after use of specialized footwear for knee osteoarthritis: results of a six-month pilot investigation.

It’s been known for a long time that common shoes exacerbate the effects (and may contribute to) osteoarthritis, due to the increased stress on the knee joints. I wrote about one of those studies in New Study on What Shoes do to Your Knees, and referenced other studies specifically on what high heels do, e.g., Women’s shoes and knee osteoarthritis. High heels increase the load by something like 30%.

What Dr. Shakoor’s studies have shown is that even “normal” shoes affect the gait, and increase the load by about 15% or so. What she did in this study was have the subjects wear the “mobility shoes” for six months, and see how it affected their gait.

First, let me say that the shoes have been described in other places as minimal shoes, or “minshoes”. That doesn’t mean that they were toed-shoes, like Vibrams. Here’s a picture of the mobility shoe used.

The Mobility Shoe

Here’s what the article says about it:

This specialized footwear is designed with sole cuts, or grooves, strategically placed at major flexion points of the foot, which allows the shoe to bend at areas where the foot would naturally bend during barefoot gait.

I think a lot of us would have preferred to see the study have the subjects for barefoot for the six months, but somehow I suspect they would have had a lot of study dropouts if they’d done that—so many people are so addicted to the thought of shoes.

Anyways, they tracked the stress on the knees (actually, something called the “knee adduction moment”) for six months as the subjects wore the mobility shoes during most of their day. During the study, they regularly retested the subjects, having them don their old regular shoes for one test, the mobility shoes for another test, and barefoot for a final test.

Here is the main graph of their results:

Longitudinal changes in the peak external knee adduction moment

As you can see, barefoot was best. But using mobility shoes over that period brought even shoe-wearing down to what barefoot did at the beginning.

Obviously, what happened was that the subjects learned to walk differently in the shoes with the (mostly) flexible sole. That training even carried over into their barefoot walking, with their barefoot walking at the end also generating less stress than at the beginning of the study.

I think this does a good job of showing that fixed sole shoes (like dress shoes and running shoes), in which the foot is encased in shoe and unable to flex properly, screw up not just the encased feet but the whole gait.

But there is also something that this study was not able to get at, and that’s the full feedback and proprioception that comes from being fully barefoot. We barefooters are well-aware that direct feedback from the sole is also tremendously important in terms of placing our feet and allowing the body to work as a unit from our toes to our head. It would be really nice if they could repeat the study with the subjects really going barefoot over the six months. But I’m not holding my breath.

I’d also like to mention that the study also measured the subjective knee pain of the subjects. While I like the results (the more barefoot-like, the less knee pain), I’m also a bit suspicious of such a subjective measure. It’s nice to know but not definitive.

The authors of this study recognize that it is a fairly limited study. There was no control group. The measure of pain was subjective, with no double-blinding.

And while they showed that the mobility shoes improved gait even when the subjects wore their normal shoes, who knows how long that would last.

[T]he current study demonstrated that knee joint loads were reduced not only when participants wore the study mobility shoe, but also during natural barefoot gait, and knee joint loads even improved when participants walked in their original footwear over the 6-month period. These findings suggest that this noncustom footwear functioned as a biomechanical training device to beneficially alter gait mechanics. It is unclear how long these beneficial effects could be maintained if use of the footwear were discontinued, nor has the maximum potential loading reduction been defined yet, since the load-reduction trend appeared to be continuing at 6 months.

I may be biased, but I suggest that folks ought to just go barefoot all the time.

I lost my appeal in my lawsuit against the Fairfield County District Library, with the opinion being issued on December 14, 2011.

[A repost.]

That was not my first loss. In all instances, I have found that the courts simply ignored arguments that would have helped my case. And these weren’t oh-by-the-way arguments; they were a major part of the argument. The courts didn’t say why an argument was wrong or irrelevant; it simply did not even mention in the opinion that I had made the argument.

For instance, in my first, federal lawsuit against the Columbus Metropolitan Library, the court simply ignored the argument that protecting a person from him- or herself was not a legitimate governmental interest. You can see some of those arguments in this blog post. (You can see them in the brief itself, here.) The court simply omitted any discussion of that issue. Along the way, it also made up hazards, accepting without evidence the proposition that things like feces or blood or urine on the floor really were a hazard to a barefooted person. (They’re not—that is what skin is for.)

That court also declined to hear my challenge to the rulemaking authority of the library’s director. In this instance, their shoe rule had not been enacted by the Board (as required by state law), but created merely by the library’s director. In addition, I didn’t see how even state law authorized a shoe rule.

So, I filed a new suit against the Columbus Metropolitan Library to challenge the shoe rule. Within a short period of time after the filing, the library board enacted the shoe rule itself.

But again, the courts (trial court and appeals court), ignored the arguments. I’ve mentioned before that under Ohio law, the legislature can only delegate rulemaking authority if it also provides a discernible public policy declaration and the need for the regulation. Furthermore, that has to go beyond a mere statement that an administrative body may make rules.

All the opinion did in that case was quote the rulemaking statute:

[The statute] established an intelligible principle that expressly empowered the board to make and publish rules for the “proper operation and management” of the public library under its jurisdiction. The board’s adoption of a code of conduct for patrons, which includes a footwear requirement for library patrons, directly concerns the proper operation and management of the public library under the board’s jurisdiction and, therefore, bears a reasonable relation to the legislative purpose of former R.C. 3375.40(H).

You see it? “Proper operation and management” is the discernible public policy declaration. I don’t know about you, but for me, a discernible public policy declaration would, you know, let a library board know what kinds of rules it was allowed to make. If it is allowed to make barefoot rules, is it also allowed to make high-heel rules? Who knows? But since we don’t know, how can that be a discernible public policy declaration?

But there was also the argument I made that the opinions ignored. That is that the police power (the power of the government to protect the public morals, health, safety, or general welfare) was not delegated to the library. I cited case after case showing that police powers always had to be explicitly delegated. Didn’t matter. The court opinion failed to mention that I’d even argued that.

By the way, in all those previous cases, I argued that libraries had statutory immunity from injury lawsuits, and since their patrons are licensees, the library only has to refrain from willful and wanton conduct. I blogged that here. Yet, those courts, in every opinion, stated that the barefoot rule served the purpose of protecting the library from costly injury lawsuits.

How? I ask.

And now to the case against the Fairfield County Library that I just lost earlier this month. You can see their opinion here.

So, what’s missing?

For my first assignment of error, I tried to address that by getting the trial court to take judicial notice of the immunity and licensee issues. The court did not do so. Now, I recognized that that was not an error, but I called it an error just to get the appeals court to write something about it. I had had all those previous opinions completely ignore it. By putting it into the assignment of error itself, I would at least make it hard for them to punt the issue.

Silly me. First, the opinion says about as little as one can say about those issues. It neither says that they apply, or that they don’t apply. That’s kosher for the court to do. But then, again, at the end of the opinion, they court says (I’ve added the bold):

We find the evidence showed the Library’s footwear policy is related to the governmental interests in preventing injuries to its patrons from documented hazards within the Library, as well as to protect the economic interests of the Library.

How???? I ask again.

In the second assignment of error, I argued that the Fairfield County Library should not have been given a second bite of the apple. I argued, and cited cases and the Rules of Civil Procedure, that the library had its chance to present evidence the first time this case was addressed (in the motions for summary judgment) and they failed to do so. The law is clear:

However, if the moving party [that was me] has satisfied its initial burden, the nonmoving party [the library] then has a reciprocal burden outlined in Civ.R. 56(E) to set 16 forth specific facts showing that there is a genuine issue for trial and, if the nonmovant does not so respond, summary judgment, if appropriate, shall be entered against the nonmoving party.

This latest opinion mentions nothing about that. They just say that they remanded the case, so the evidentiary hearing was okay.

Anybody reading the opinion would not even know that that had been argued, or that in the first instance the library had not set forth any specific facts.

In the third assignment of error, I argued that there are two separate standards that have to be met for a rule to be valid. The first standard is whether the administrative body has been authorized to make the rule. This is a high standard to meet. As I noted about, there must be the discernible public policy statement describing the need for the rule. Furthermore, under this standard, if there is any doubt in that regard, the doubt should be resolved against the rule.

In my briefs I gave examples of Ohio Supreme Court decisions highlighting exactly that.

Now, look that the appeals court decision. See any discussion about that at all? Nope. All they did was apply the second, much weaker standard, that the rule must be reasonable.

The first standard is a threshold standard. That standard must be reached before even considering the weak, second standard. But that is all this court did, and they did so without even mentioning or analyzing my arguments about the higher standard.

So, nobody reading this opinion will even know about the issues that were important (as far as I can tell). What the court has written sound reasonable on its face, but that is only because of what was omitted. (Yes, one could argue that all that was omitted was irrelevant to the final conclusion so there was no need to mention that, but opinions are supposed to explain, not obscure.)

So, where does that leave me? Dead in the water, yet again. As a matter of responsibility, I will consider appealing to the Ohio Supreme Court, but they have the discretion to decide whether to take a case like this or not, and in general they just see this as not important. See what I wrote about Big Justice vs. Little Justice.

One thing that might help is if I could get an amicus brief in support of them taking the appeal. I would sure appreciate suggestions from you folks as to freedom-loving organizations that might consider submitting such a brief.

So, what ought I do when I’m preparing for a hiking trip?

Like I said, I play tennis barefoot.

Barefoot Tennis

But all the stopping and cutting on a tennis court, particularly an outdoor tennis court, tends to sand off the callus I build up.

As you might have guessed from some of my recent postings (you know, yesterday’s entry in which I carried a 40 pound backpack while climbing hills), I’m planning a backpacking trip and trying to make sure I’m in shape. However, with the arrival (finally!) of warmer spring weather, I’m also playing more tennis as the outdoor season starts.

So, what am I to do to help ensure that my soles are fit for a backpacking trip?

The obvious solution seems to be for me to start wearing shoes for playing tennis.

Ugh.

As regular readers are well-aware, I rarely, very rarely, wear footwear of any kind. In fact, I cannot remember the last time I wore any. But hey, I want to train properly and not undo the effects of that training too much.

Anyways, yesterday evening I played a couple of hours, wearing shoes. It was a constant reminder of why I go shoeless so much.

The first thing I noticed was at the 2nd metatarsal on my right foot. I have a bit of (I think) Morton’s neuroma, which barely bothers me while barefoot. As it says here,

The pain is exacerbated with wearing tight or constricted shoes and alleviated while walking barefoot.

That starting kicking up almost immediately. Normally, while barefoot, I can subtly shift my weight a bit and it feels fine. In a shoe, my foot was locked in place. Ow.

Then my left big toe started up at the main joint. Again, my foot was locked in place and there was no way to compensate. Ow. Ow.

Both of these maladies are basically a result of getting older. I have other parts of my body that are also starting to go. But it is only shoes that exacerbate these effects of getting older.

Then, after about half an hour my arches starting bitching and moaning. I tend to have fairly low arches that bother me not the least when barefoot. But stick them into a shoe . . .

It’s not even as if the shoe had a high internal arch (those used to drive me absolutely nuts), because it didn’t. It wasn’t even the inner arch that started to bother me, it was the outer one. Again, the sole of the shoe wasn’t allowing my whole foot to work the way it is supposed to work. It was freezing the motion of muscles that were used to carrying the load, and forced it all on muscles that really weren’t designed to do so. They still ached 3 hours later.

That’s the subversiveness of shoes. That’s one reason so many people have foot problems.

Let me show again the youtube video of me playing tennis.

The point isn’t to show what a good tennis player I am (I’m not). It’s to show how easy it is when barefoot.

Oh, and when I played yesterday in shoes, I felt clumsier than anything. The shoes really were boat anchors—my movement sucked.

So, there really is a reason . . . that I go barefoot so much.

It was an 8-mile barefoot hike at Tar Hollow.

Comparison of Old and New Routes

A nice change.

But at the top I was met with this.

Power Line Construction

It looked like they were replacing or upgrading the power poles for the transmission line that runs through here. (You can see it on the mini-topo maps.) I realize that we need our power and that it has to be maintained, but it was a bit of a shock to see things looking this naked.

It was also rather difficult on bare feet, and not a good way to start a hike. It was full of little chippy stones, not thick enough to give at all, but not far enough a part to avoid.

This wasn’t the only part of the hike that looked like this. Later on, about halfway through, were more of these roads cutting through the landscape.

Logging Road

This one is along the Pine Lake segment, which used to have nothing but a single-file path along the ridgetop with great views. This wasn’t for power; it was for logging.

This area looked like it was also hit hard by the derecho last summer, so a lot of trees were down. (You can see some in the background.) The attitude, though, seemed to be to go grab the trees, instead of thinking that they were useful habitat for animals, or that the nutrients they contain could be returned to the soil.

Mother Earth was screaming — so were my eyes.

Well, enough of that.

After I got away from the power line repair road, I got onto the Buckeye Trail, where I Follow[ed] the Blue Blazes, written by my friend Bob Page (who I met on my Walk with the Ancients).

Along the Buckeye Trail

Whenever you see a blaze of that color in Ohio, you’re probably on the Buckeye Trail. (If you look carefully in the picture, you can see two more blazes in the distance.) This portion of the trail was in only so-so condition: the effects of a different kind of roadmaker: horses. Well, at least it wasn’t as naked as the other roads (and it was easier on the feet, too).

The trees were all leafing out, so here’s my collection of tree-leaf photos. First, see if you can tell what this is.

Curled and Ready to Pop

That picture was actually taken last week at Alley Park, but it just didn’t fit into my narrative there.

That’s a beech. At Tar Hollow, the beeches were just slightly farther along.

Popped

The maple leaves were also emerging.

Mini-Maples

All these pictures are taken of seedlings or saplings.

Oaks were also popping.

Ocher Oaks

And here’s one just slightly farther along.

Greening Up

It takes these leaves a bit of time to get their chlorophyll going; until them, the base canthaxanthins show through.

I’m not sure just what this one is. I am thinking maybe hickory.

Hickory, Doc?

And then there was the scourge of hikers.

Poison Ivy

That’s poison ivy, just getting its start on the season. (It’s still pretty.)

And there was more.

Virginia Creeper

Except that one is not poison ivy. It has 5 leaves, not three, so that identifies it as Virginia Creeper. (Actually, you can sometimes be fooled by Virginia Creeper, as occasionally its new leaves will only have 3, not 5.)

The northernmost part of my hike was the Brushy Ridge Fire Tower. It is always amazing to me how close I have to get to it to actually see it (even without too many leaves on the trees). But then it emerges.

The Fire Tower

Yes, you can climb it (though only to just below the cabin).

By the way, if stores were truly concerned about bare feet and liability, they could post a similar sign.

As always, the views from the top were spectacular.

Westward View

The new growth on the trees really sticks out. We also see that many of the trees are taller than the 73 foot height of the fire tower.

Off in the distance I’m pretty sure we are seeing Great Seal State Park. I cannot tell for sure, but based on the direction, I’m guessing that the tall point is Sand Hill. To the left and obscured by the trees is probably Mount Logan, and to the right I suspect is Bald Hill. (And Sugar Loaf is hidden farther to the right.)

From here it was a descent down from the top of the fire tower and a footsore trek south back to the my car.

Descending

It was a nice remembrance of Earth Day, with both the chance to be a part of Mother Earth, and with visible reminders of why we need the day.

I thought I’d write some more about her book.

The book is The Living Mountain, and it is well-worth purchasing for a good read (or checking out of the library). Nan Shepherd lived around and hiked the Cairngorms in the highlands of Scotland, and has wonderful descriptive powers.

I’ll be quoting the pieces that refer to her being barefoot in a few instances. The strength and power of the book lie in her descriptions and use of language.

Here’s a small piece from page 51.

Lower on the mountain, on all the slopes and shoulders and ridges and on the moors below, the characteristic growth is heather. And this too is integral to the mountain. . . . But it is the August-blooming ling that covers the hills with amethyst. Now they look gracious and benign. For many many miles there is nothing but this soft radiance. Walk over it in a hot sun, preferable not on a path (‘I like the unpath best,’ one of my small friends said when her father had called her to heel). and the scent rises in a heady cloud. Just as one walks on a hot day surrounded by one’s own aura of flies, so one walks surrounded by one’s own aura of heather scent. For as the feet brush the bloom, the pollen rises in a perfumed cloud. It settles on one’s boots, or if one is walking barefoot, on feet and legs, yellowy-fawn in colour, silky to the touch, yet leaving a perceptible grit between the fingers. . . .

To one who lives the hills at every season, the blossoming is not the best of the heather. The best of it is simply its being there — is the feel of it under the feet. To feel heather under the feet after long abstinence is one of the dearest joys I know.

“I like the unpath best”. That says so much, not just for hiking, but for life. For if you are a barefooter, you are treading the “unpath” of non-conformity. And if you hike out in the woods, there is so much more cool stuff off the beaten path, as is true of life in general.

It turns out that I have ancestors from the area (more or less). Some of my Scottish ancestors are from Loch Tay, which is about 20 miles south of the Cairngorms. Maybe this barefoot thing has been bred into me.

The longer barefooting section in the book is on page 102, contained in a chapted entitled The Senses:

Touch is the most intimate sense of all. . . .

The hands have an infinity of pleasure in them. When I was a girl, a charming old gentlewoman said something to me that I have never forgotten. I was visiting her country home, and after lunch, going for a walk with her niece, I picked up my gloves from the hall table where I had laid them down. She took them from me and laid them back on the table. ‘You don’t need these. A lot of strength comes to us through the hands.’ Sensation also. The feel of things, textures, surfaces, rough things like cones and bark, smooth things like stalks and feathers and pebbles rounded by water, the teasing of gossamers, the delicate tickle of a crawling caterpillar, the scratchiness of lichen, the warmth of the sun, the sting of hail, the blunt blow of tumbling water, the flow of wind — nothing that I can touch or that touches me but has its own identity for the hand as much for the eye.

And for the foot as well. Walking barefoot has gone out of fashion since Jeanie Deans trudged to London, but no country child grows up without its benediction. Sensible people are reviving the habit. They tell me a tale up here of a gentleman in one of the shooting lodges who went to the hill barefoot: when he sat down for lunch the beaters crowded as near as they dared to see what manner of soles such a prodigy could have. But actually walking barefoot upon heather is not so grim as it sounds. I have covered odd miles myself here and there in this fashion. It begins with a burn that must be forded: once my shoes are off. I am loth to put them on again. If there are grassy flats beside my burn. I walk on over them, rejoicing in the feel of the grass to my feet; and when the grass gives place to the heather, I walk on still. By setting the foot sideways to the growth of the heather, and pressing the sprays down, one can walk easily enough. Dried mud flats, sun-warmed, have a delicious touch, cushioned and smooth; so has long grass at morning, hot in the sun, but still cool and wet when the foot sinks into it, like food melting to a new flavour in the mouth. And a flower caught by the stalk between the toes is a small enchantment.

I like this equating between hands and the feet, since they really are so physiologically and genetically similar. And just like wearing gloves inhibits the sense of touch of the hands, so does wearing shoes inhibit the sense of touch of the feet.

That is such a wonderful description that captures at least part of the joy of hiking barefoot. It really is about the senses, and utilizing them all.

Anyways, here’s the book again: The Living Mountain. Check it out.

It was apparantly quite popular as filler since it was picked up by quite a few newspapers at the time.

          LONG DISTANCE RUN, NATURAL STYLE

CAMP BEALE, Calif. — (AP) — Sergeants of the Armorer Force can demand an extra amount of respect from rookies today all because of the feet of Technical Sergeant Harmon Ligon of the 13th Armored Division stationed here. He started out on a 25-mile dismounted road march with his company. After four miles the sergeant was champing at the bit, annoyed at the slow pace. Came the first halt and he stayed behind. He was last seen fidgeting exasperatingly with his shoes as the column shoved off. Twenty-one miles after the initial halt, a barefoot soldier, running too fast to be identified, passed the weary column and fell into the proper cadence only when he reached the front rank. It was Sergeant Ligon.

I just can’t figure out why it took him 21 miles to catch up.

Spring has Sprung, the Grass is Ris. I wonder where the Flowers Is.

Well, there they were.

First, just a peek at the hillside for the creek that feeds Lake Loretta.

In Alley Park

I love the way the creek (the one I’m standing in) just meanders down the cleft.

I’d also like to mention that the reason I put myself in these photos (aside from the obvious visual appeal ) is just to show that, yes, I do these hikes barefoot. This blog after all is primarily a barefoot blog. Just because I intersperse entries with hiking doesn’t mean there isn’t still barefooting involved.

This hike was a lot more relaxed than the one I did on Saturday, the O’Meara O’Vencha Hike: Spring. On this one I took things more at my own pace (and stopped a lot for pictures). I didn’t even bother with my knee brace, and didn’t need it. I had the chance to more carefully place my feet and get proprioceptive feedback that minimized stresses on my joints. And I did it while carrying 10 more pounds in my pack than on Saturday.

Anyways, April not only has showers, but it also gets sunlight dappling through trees just starting to put forth blossoms and leaves. And the May Apples were coming up, with different stages at different locations, depending on little microclimates determined by sun exposure.

So, let me start with one may apple that had barely emerged from the soil.

Just Emerging

It’s working on getting its leave out.

This one’s a bit farther along.

Working on It

And this one has got them starting spread out a bit.

Getting There

But there were some that were fully deployed.

I’m Here

That one is sexually immature. From what I’ve read, it takes a year before they are ready for such things.

Here’s one that’s old enough and exposing its sexual organ.

Why Don’t You Come Up and See Me Sometime?

When they are old enough, they produce two leaves, with the flower bud emerging from the crook between the two stems. (And yes, if you think about it, the bud is their sexual organ. You give somebody flowers and you are giving them exposed sex organs, maybe in the hope of exposing some sex organs of your own .)

Here’s that same plant taken while kneeling way down towards the ground.

Under the Umbrella

I kind of like that shot. I am usually quite jealous of how great others’ pictures often are, but every now and again I accidentally produce one with decent composition and lighting.

Of course, the woods had more going on than just may apples. There was also toothwort.

Cutleaf Toothwort

And spring beauties.

Spring Beauties

Trilliums were also up, but just in a very few locations. This one hadn’t quite gotten its blossom out.

Unopened Trillium

But this one had.

Trillium

Even the ferns were getting into the act, with this bunch of fiddleheads emerging from the base of spent leaves.

Fiddleheads

When I started my hike things were pretty cloudy from the previous day’s rain. But the sky cleared as I walked along, so we get to see the sunlight dappling this small buckeye tree.

Buckeye Sapling

Buckeyes are almost always the first tree to get its leaves out in the spring.

So yes, April dapples bring May apples.

I just don’t know what may apples bring . . .

And the commercial depicts the passenger violating their Contract of Carriage.

Of course you all know which portion of the Contract of Carriage I’m referring to. Here’s a screen shot.

Barefoot on American Airlines

Yet, the American Airlines Contract of Carriage specifically states:

American may refuse to transport you, or may remove you from your flight at any point, for one or several reasons, including but not limited to the following:

     6. Your conduct is disorderly, abusive or violent, or you

          g. are barefoot . . .

First, don’t you love that they equate being barefoot with being disorderly, abusive, or violent? Because that’s exactly what the woman in the commerical is, right?

Now, if you challenge American Airlines on the commercial, the first thing that will happen (because this happens with any company you challenge a shoe “rule” with) if you try to contact the company is that you will get to talk to a “customer service representative”. This, of course, is code for “a low-paid employee at a phone bank working from a script and who has absolutely no power to change anything or any idea or authority to handle something different”.

And if you do get to somebody higher up in the food chain, you can be guaranteed they know nothing about the rule. They’ll make up some excuse about annoying other passengers (even though it doesn’t) or liability (even though they don’t seem to worry about liability from women catching heels on the entryway or the row of raised lights in the aisle). But they really don’t have a clue.

After all, the barefoot rule on airlines comes from an old Civil Aeronautics Board rule from before airline regulation. Back then, the CAB specified the contents of the Contract of Carriage. After deregulation each airline was allowed to specify their own Contract of Carriage, but most never bothered to change (or even bothered to think about changing) this rule. There are a few (very few) who removed that clause, or then you have an airline like Southwest Airlines, whose Contract of Carriage specifies that they may remove:

Persons who are barefoot and older than five years of age, unless required due to a disability.

That’s right. They care about liability because being barefoot on their planes is so unsafe. But it’s OK for your 4-year-old to walk barefoot under such unsafe conditions. Of course, in reality, it’s not unsafe at all. Heck, they don’t even have glass (another safety shibboleth) on the plane—it’s all plastic cups and trays.

The really funny thing is, the only possible reason to have a restriction on bare feet is exactly the one depicted in their commercial.

Feet restricted in shoes have this way of acquiring bacteria and fungi. Smelly bacteria and fungi that really could annoy other passengers. So that woman in the commercial removing her shoes has a good chance of wafting a odor about the cabin.

Of course, that would not be the case for somebody arriving barefoot (or sandaled, for that matter). But the rule doesn’t even think about or consider that. It’s just out there, without rhyme or reason. The rule really should be about odors, not bare feet (and, in fact, that is covered by American Airlines rule 6e: “Have an offensive odor not caused by a disability or illness”).

Getting the airline to change the rule to something that makes sense is impossible. They’ve all bought into the rule, and can only think of ways to justify it, not remove it.

So, in the meantime, if you want to fly barefoot, it’ll be a crap shoot. It’ll all depend on whether any particular airline employee happens to see your bare feet, and happens to care about them.

I’ve flown barefoot many times without challenge. But I’ve also had trips where it seems they’re out to get me. As I said, it just depends on the particular employee (this happens in stores, too).

All you can do it try it, but be ready to be challenged.

Here’s the full commercial.

And that meant there really aren’t any more issues about whether it’s too cold to do the hike barefoot.

The park has something like 11 miles of organized trails in an area of a bit more than 4,700 acres. It’s a huge area on the edge of Hocking Hills, containing many of the same geologic features. But that also means that when you do a series of long hikes, you are going to end up repeating yourself. So, you’ve seen pictures of all these places before. But what ought to make them a bit different is the arrival of spring.

The hike itself was just about 12¾ miles, completed in just under 5 hours (including lunch at the picnic area).

Actually, the speed bothered me a bit. I was carrying a bit more than usual (with my external frame pack), and that weight, combined with the speed, made my knee start to act up. Usually, just going barefoot helps my knee: it seems to be that the proprioceptive feedback allows me to place my feet in such a way to minimize the stress on all my joints. However, when we were chugging along, I’m guessing I wasn’t paying as much attention to that. So, I ended up lagging behind a bit, but still managed to finish the full distance.

One of the things we did to make this hike a bit different was head off to Buzzard’s Roost.

Stopping at the Buzzard’s Roost Overlook

This is off-trail, and can only be accessed when accompanied by park personnel on an official hike. John was our “park personnel”.

Buzzard’s Roost is an outcropping of Blackhand Sandstone, the primary geologic layer that provided all of the Hocking Hills area its unique nature of outcroppings, hills, and recess caves. Buzzard’s Roost gives a nice view of the Clear Creek valley.

The Clear Creek Valley

That’s looking towards the southeast (while Clear Creek generally heads east, it’s doing a jog here) towards Memory Rock in the distance. If you look carefully in the middle of the picture, you can see Clear Creek at the bottom of the vee.

As usual we were accompanied by accomplished volunteers.

Volunteer and Hikers

That’s Charlotte (if I remember correctly—I really have to work on remembering names) along with some of the other hikers.

Here’s the view looking looking west from Buzzard’s Roost.

Looking West from Buzzard’s Roost

You can see how some of the Blackhand Sandstone has weathered into an interesting shape due to the way it was originally differentially cemented.

The half-way point is always the Barnebey Hambleton picnic area.

Across the Valley

In this photo (and the last one, too) you can see the trees just starting to bloom. There’s just that tinge of red in the distance.

After lunch we headed down to Lake Ramona.

Lake Ramona

It doesn’t look too springlike there, but just behind is a sure sign of it.

Skunk Cabbage

You know spring is coming when the skunk cabbage is almost ready to bloom.

And yes, skunk cabbage really does smell bad. It also turns out to be edible (you know, if you are a pioneer after a long winter). But extreme care must be taken to eat it, and it has to be properly prepared. Skunk cabbage contains a lot of oxalic acid crystals, which precipitates in your kidney and joints. Supposedly, if carefully (and thoroughly) dried the oxalic acid can be removed.

Quite frankly, I’m not about to try it.

Continuing hike, I wanted to show the hillside along the Chestnut Trail that has a large patch of Ground Cedar.

Ground Cedar

That actually isn’t a sign of spring. They look like that all year long. But it still does brighten up the area.

What would a spring hike be without some spring flowers. Here’s one of the Cutleaf Toothworts that were all along the trails.

Cutleaf Toothwort

Thanks to TrekOhio and Common Spring Wildflowers in Ohio it was pretty easy to identify (mainly from the leaf since the flowers haven’t quite opened yet).

There’s one more Adventure Hike, scheduled for May 18, before the summer hiatus. Every hike has attracted something between 20 and 35 hikers, so let’s hope that’s sufficient interest for John to resume them in the fall.

Here’s the cartoon.

Dennis the Menace: April 13, 2013

I’m of two minds on this one. For one, in such a park, is it really that much better to step in a pile when shod? If you do, you’re tracking it into your car, and then probably into your house.

On the other hand, if you are barefoot, you’ll know it immediately, and you will be able to take steps to clean off your feet right away.

It is also the case that, if you are barefoot, you will most likely be much more careful looking where you are going.

But there is still something else to at least worry about, and that’s canine hookworm.

When I look at its prevalence, it is not inconsiderable. According to the Companion Animal Parasite Council website:

In a survey conducted in 1996 using fecal samples collected from dogs across the United States, 19% of the fecal samples contained Ancylostoma spp. eggs and 1.02% contained Uncinaria spp. Ancylostoma prevalence ranged from less than 5% in the west to 36% in the southeastern United States.

That seems awfully high to me, particularly since they also have a really cool map showing parasite prevalence, here. If you click on through, it shows that, in the United States, 1 out of 88 dogs have tested positive for hookworm. A low-prevalence state like California (the climate really isn’t too friendly to canine hookworm) is 1 out of 219, and a high-prevalence state like Georgia is 1 out of 44.

The maps even goes down to the county level (with my own county at 1 out of 74).

I suspect part of the difference is the kinds of dogs being tested.

If we go back to the Dennis the Menace cartoon and ask about the risk there in a dog park, I would guess that it is pretty low. Dog parks have owners who are pretty conscientious, both in picking up faeces and it getting their dogs good regular medical care. So I’d think that the risk of canine hookworm from that situation would really be quite low. The prevalence would be way below the averages.

That’s probably true for suburban locations in general—folks take care of their dogs there. I’m also not too worried out and about on hiking trails. Loose dogs probably don’t follow those trails anyways. Additionally, I’ve found most dogs step off the trail to do their thing. So, even if there is some prevalence, I don’t think it’s much of a risk to barefooters.

However, I’d be an idiot to say it cannot happen.

Keep in mind that canine hookworm cannot complete its life-cycle in humans; the hormones and/or other signals are just wrong. What often happens is that the larvae get lost in the skin, causing cutaneous larva migrans. It’s annoying an itchy, and quite treatable. (So if you notice it, go see a doctor.) By the way, one of the websites I looked at suggested that most cases of this happen when workers have to crawl in contaminated dirt, when, for instance, accessing crawlspaces under houses.

So, back to Dennis: it’s probably not a big deal.

But it’s at least something to keep in the back of your mind, and to be extra careful where you step.

Yesterday (and today, too!) was one of the four open houses that are conducted every year. These open houses are always extremely interesting and well worth going to.

The Octagon is part of a much larger complex of earthworks, most of which were destroyed as the city was built. You can see them in this old map.

The 1862 Salisbury Map of the Newark Earthworks (click for larger version)

The Octagon itself is an extraordinary structure that encodes the 18.6 year lunar cycle. This cycle is a result of the fact that the earth’s axis is tilted 23.5° to the ecliptic while the moon’s orbit is tilted about 5.1°. What it means is that if you watch where the moon rises every day/evening, it changes, with some months extending quite far north and south, and other months not so much. It takes 18.6 years for that full cycle to occur. There is a much better explanation on Wikipedia at Lunar Standstill.

The Octagon itself it oriented to point directly at the major lunar standstill. The various sides point to the other lunar cycle cusps.

There has also been some recent discussion about the relative sizes of the two large circle mounds (both of which still exist). It turns about that the Great Circle Mound (the one in the southeast) is about 13% larger than the Observatory Mound (the one in the northwest and attached directly with the Octagon). It turns out that the relative sizes of the moon at apogee (when it is farthest from the earth) and perigee (when it is closest to the earth) is also about 13%. Maybe that explains the relative sizes of the mounds. [The reason for apogee and perigee is because the moon travels around the Earth in an ellipse, so sometimes it is closer and sometimes it is farther.]

To me, it sounds quite plausible. We already know that careful observations had to be made of the moon just to notice the 18.6 year lunar cycle, and then create the Octagon observatory.

Anyways, here is a very nice blog entry by Brad Lepper, Curator of the Ohio Historical Center explaining that.

The Open House had its usual great tours. Two of the tour guides were Brad Lepper and Jeff Gill (of the Newark Earthworks Center). They led the tour that I went along with, and did a great job tag-teaming each other. (They’ve done this enough that they even feed each other punch lines as they go.)

Here’s Jeff (he’s the one gesticulating) just starting out the tour at one of the vertices of the Octagon.

Tour Beginning

There’s the edge of one of the legs right behind him, and on the left you can see another long, straight mound heading straight back. Behind the dumpster is one of the guardian mounds for the gap. (Hey, I told you it was a golf course; the garage is for equipment and the dumpster is for, well you know what it’s for.)

Here’s the tour group at the corridor where the Observatory Mound connects to the Octagon.

At the Connecting Corridor

Brad Lepper is wearing the red shirt and vest. You can see another guardian mound straight back behind Jeff and Brad. You can also see an observation platform a little to the right, just above on of the corridor mounds. (That platform is open to the public even when the golf course is not.)

Finally, the Newark Advocate had a reporter there who shot some video.

Brad Lepper on Experiencing the Site

[Click on the picture to go to the video on the Advocate site. Seriously, you want to go see the video.]

It is a very nice video that gives a very good feel for the tour and just what you can learn if you go yourself. (You can also see me a couple of times if you look carefully.)

The Octagon and earthworks are so extraordinary it is no wonder that Brad and Jeff get so enthused about it. It truly is one of the wonders of the ancient world (and is in the process of becoming a United Nations World Heritage Site).

More Ohio residents really should take more advantage of learning about this wonder sitting right in the middle of the state.

Barefoot Survey 2013.

It’s purpose is to get a snapshot of the barefoot community, which I find quite intriguing. Presumably, a new survey can be done every year or so, and that might give us an idea, not only how the community is evolving, but whether barefooting is gaining any sort of public acceptance.

Other communities, like the paleo community, do this.

So take a second and fill it out.

When the results come out, I’ll make sure to show them and discuss them here.

I found an interesting one from 1944.

This is from the Ogden (Utah) Standard Examiner of June 21, in a section entitled “Pen Points”.

“Toes feel much better when allowed to roam at large, but the barefoot boy is the only one smart enought to do anything about it.”

I’d add the barefoot girl to that. And the barefoot adult.

Administrators first have to make up specious reasons for enforcing a rule that infringes on personal liberty. Then they have to double down and decide to fight to keep their rule, often in the process coming up with even more ridiculous justifications. I am also deeply suspicious that some of this is prompted by their own incompetence in dealing with something that ought to be part of their daily competence.

I’m reminded of this by a recent story about a kindergartner’s mohawk haircut.

I looked a lot at haircut regulations when I was working on my lawsuit against the Columbus Metropolitan Library rule regarding bare feet. They are part of what is called a liberty interest in personal appearance. A lot of these battles were fought in the 1960s and 1970s, when the short hair (on boys) of the 1950s gave way to the hippie look of subsequent decades.

Legally, what happened is that some Appeals Districts recognized a liberty interest and some didn’t. The United States Supreme Court never took a case regarding hair length in school children, though they eventually did take one regarding hair length for policemen and firemen. (In those cases they upheld the regulation, since police were quasi-military and needed the extra discipline, and firemen had various pieces of equipment that hair would get in the way of.)

Here in Ohio where I live, and where the kindergartner story occurred, the Court of Appeals explicitly did not recognize the liberty interest.

One of the original court cases was Jackson v. Dorrier, 958 F.2d 1242 (1970). Their hair-length rule was interpreted to require, for boys

that hair in the front may not come below the eyebrows, ears must show clear of hair and hair in the back is to be tapered and not be long enough to turn up.

Sounds pretty tame, particularly when compared with what we see all around us these days.

The boys involved in the case were Michael Jackson and Barry Steven Barnes. After some initial skirmishes,

When the new school term opened in September 1968 Jackson presented himself with hair over the lapel of his coat in the back and down to the tips of his earlobes on the sides, and with sideburns and a mustache. Barnes appeared with hair down to his shoulders and with a mustache, a beard and long sideburns.

But the stupidity shows up in the results of the hearing held by the judge in the case. Here’s how the Court of Appeals summarized it.

There is evidence to support the conclusion that the wearing of excessively long hair by male students at Donelson High School disrupted classroom atmosphere and decorum, caused disturbances and distractions among other students and interfered with the educational process. Members of faculty of Donelson High School testified that the wearing of long hair by Jackson and Barnes was an obstructing and distracting influence to a wholesome academic environment. A teacher of history and social studies stated that two boys with long hair were a distracting influence in her class; that they were “constantly combing, flipping, looking in mirrors and rearranging their hair,” attracting the attention of other students and interfering with classroom teaching; and that the train of thought of both the students and teachers was interrupted. An English teacher testified that she often asked a boy to put away his comb and refrain from combing his hair in class. She described long hair on male students as a disturbing and distracting influence on educational processes in her classes and other school activities at Donelson High School. A teacher of industrial arts testified that girls with long hair were required to wear hair nets as a safety precaution and that long hair on boys was a safety hazard in shop work. One teacher said that other students pay more attention to a boy with long hair than to what the teacher is trying to teach. Another teacher, testified that when her class was attended by the boys with long hair hardly a day would go by that she would not have to interrupt her teaching and say: “Put your combs away. This is not a beauty parlor This is a school classroom.”

Other teachers testified to like effect before the District Judge, along with several Donelson High School students, including the vice president of the student body and the president of the senior class. The vice president of the student body described how the long hair of Jackson and Barnes, and their disobedience of, the school regulation, set off a chain reaction of conversation, speculation, and excitement among other students at the beginning of the 1968-69 school term. He testified concerning a threat by some of the students to cut off the long hair of Jackson and Barnes.

That’s just hard to read without screaming at the screen. It’s clear that the boys were jerks, common among a certain set of high-schoolers who really don’t want to be there. The hair was just their way of causing trouble. If hadn’t been hair, it would have been something else.

And if the other students were all that distracted by “flipping” the hair, then how the heck were they dealing with girls who flipped their hair?

If they boys are causing trouble, make them stop the trouble; don’t attack a neutral style of dress. This case is really about the incompetence of the administrators failing to handle these sorts of boys, not something like hair-length.

And the bit about disobedience setting off “a chain reaction of conversation, speculation, and excitement among other students” is putting the cart before the horse. If they would have just ignored the hair-length, none of the other stuff would have been a problem. Regarding the threat of some to cut the long hair, that’s blaming the victim and allowing bullying—the administrators could have shown their true worth by neutrally protecting all of their students from violence.

[In my high school at about the same time, our student body president cleverly finessed the issue. It was the 150th (?) anniversary of the founding of our town. He got the administrators to allow long hair and facial hair as part of the celebration festivities, so we got to see high-school boys trying to see what sort of scraggly beards they could come up with. Situation defused; no disruptions; learning continued without the expense of drama or a lawsuit.]

We’re seeing the same sort of incompetence and cheating from the administrators in this case of the kindergartner with the mohawk.

Ethan Clos and his Mohawk

That’s actually pretty cute.

But from the story, is was all about disruption.

Castle said Ethan thought he was “cool” after he got the haircut during spring break last week and he got a lot of attention from his classmates when he returned to class.

“They seen his hair like it was. All the little kids were going over and feeling on it and everything,” Castle said.

Clark Shawnee School District officials, however, told Castle her son’s hairdo caused a disturbance as the teachers in the classroom couldn’t get the attention of the students.

Superintendent Gregg Morris said the hairstyle was a distraction for students and violates district rules.

Hello? We’re talking kindergarten here. Everything distracts a kindergartner. It’s the job of the teachers to guide the kids through distractions. It would be useful for the kids to continue to learn and obey despite distractions.

It would not have been hard for the teacher to have let everybody have their chance to touch the mohawk and then have a short discussion about diversity and respecting people’s choices.

Situation defused. Competence demonstrated. Continue with lesson plan.

But no, these folks had to cheat and double down. They came up with specious reasons that hid their incompetence, and everybody up the line, instead of stopping to think, just piled on with idiocy. (The bit about how the haircut was emulating a high-school coach is just priceless, particularly for the rationalization.)

I found the same sort of attitude with my barefoot lawsuits. “Authority shall not be questioned.” “I have the power, and I shall use it.” Rules are more important than anything else.

Double-down! Double-down!

Now, by “cheat” here, I don’t mean the stronger definition: “to practice fraud or deceit”. It’s more along the lines of “to violate rules or regulations“. I’m not even sure it is deliberate.

But the effect is the same.

[A repost.]

This is the story of Sarah Feldt. Back in the early 1970s, she went into a Hot Shoppe Jr. in the District of Columbia, got her food, and sat down to eat.

Believe it or not, the original name of the Marriott Corporation was Hot Shoppe, Inc. That’s how they got their start.

Anyways, while Sarah was eating, the manager came up to her and told her she would have to leave. After a bit of an argument (after all, she was still eating the food that she had just purchased), she politely told him:

Will you, please, go to hell.

A gal after my own heart!

Anyways, the police were called, she refused to leave on principle, and she was arrested for criminal trespass.

However, when she appeared in court the next day, the charges were dropped.

Oh, and why had the manager asked her to leave? Why, she was barefoot. (You knew that was coming, right?) Now, it was not as if the restaurant had a sign or anything, it was something that the manager just made up on the spot.

But Ms. Feldt took things a bit farther. She sued them for false arrest. While it is true that businesses can order you to leave and if you don’t, it is criminal trespass, as a general rule, if you have a privilege to be there, they cannot order you to leave. And that is what Ms. Feldt relied on.

For one thing, she’d paid for her food without a problem. She now had a contract to be able to eat it. Now, this one isn’t quite so strong, because existing case law said that the proper remedy for this was not a privilege to stay, but the right to sue for breach of contract.

But it was the other reason that led the judges in the case to cheat. You see, the District of Columbia had (and still has) a fairly strong civil rights statute. Section 47-2902(a) says

(a) It shall not be lawful for the keeper, proprietor, or proprietors of any licensed hotel, tavern, restaurant, ordinary, sample room, tippling house, saloon, or eating house, to refuse to receive, admit, entertain, and supply any quiet and orderly person or persons, or to exclude person or persons on account of race or color.

(I’ve added the emphasis.)

That looks pretty clear. Sarah Feldt was a quiet and orderly person (well, at least until provoked by the manager). It was not lawful for the restaurant to refuse to receive her.

But that’s not what the court said. The court said

[T]here was no racial discrimination here and we do not think the requirement to serve any quiet or orderly person prevents a restaurant from having reasonable requirements as to the dress of its customers, such as a requirement that all male customers wear coats and ties or, as here, that all customers wear shoes.

So she lost her case, Feldt v. Marriott, 322 A.2d 913 (D.C. Court of Appeals, 1974).

Let me say a few words about judicial construction. There actually quite a few rules of judicial construction, and they go by names like Ejusdem Generis and Noscitur a Sociis. But the primary one is that

Words used in a statute must be given their natural, plain, ordinary, and commonly understood meaning, and where plain language is used a court is bound to interpret that language to mean exactly what it says.

(Ex Parte Cobb, 703 So.2d 871 (Alabama 1996))

The words in that statute are quite clear, and are in plain language. The restaurant has to serve a quiet and orderly person. As long as they are not breaking some other law, they can stay. Yes, the statute also includes race, but that is part of an “or”, not an “and”.

There is another rule of statutory construction, and that is

Statutory construction requires that words in statutes should not be construed to be redundant, nor should any words be ignored. Statutory language must be construed as a whole and given such interpretation as will give effect to every word and clause in it. No part should be treated as superfluous unless that is manifestly required, and the court should avoid that construction which renders a provision meaningless or inoperative.

(Stancourt v. Worthington City School District Board of Education, 2005-Ohio-6750 (Ohio App. Dist.10 12/20/2005))

The court in this case treated that phrase about quiet and orderly persons as completely superfluous, simply to enforce its own prejudice about bare feet. That’s cheating.

Let me try to tackle that.

One thing we can ask is how barefoot natives of any particular location handle it. I think it’s safe to say that the answer to that is that they are intimately familiar with their local environment. They know what the local hazards to bare feet are (and from a pretty young age, at that). More than that, they know where those hazards are located, and what to look for to avoid them.

So my first bit of advice is to know what sort of flora and fauna is around you. Be able to identify it. Know what sort of conditions you are likely to find it in.

This applies for more than just going barefooted. If you are in rattlesnake country, you don’t climb up on rocks without checking them out first, or your hands might get bitten.

It also helps to stay on established trails. lilsayan mentioned in her comment that the mesquite was hidden in grass. Grass can sometimes be the worst. A well-trodden trail had the advantage that you usually can see what you are stepping on, and avoid it. (Note that barefoot natives also mainly use established trails.) This is not to say that you cannot bushwhack. Obviously, I do it a lot myself. But I’m also fairly familiar with what to look out for.

In Ohio, it’s mainly brambles and briars. And then, the thorns on those are pretty small. I just make sure that I avoid the thickets, and in other locations if I see them (easy to recognize), I just place my foot down carefully. Occasionally I’ll step on one and it’ll come right back out. When it doesn’t, I often won’t notice it until I get home, and then it is easily extracted. I do carry tweezers (and reading glasses) with me, and I use them about once every two years while hiking.

When I was Out West in Chaco Canyon I did manage to step on an old, dried-up prickly pear (because I wasn’t watching where I was walking, even though I was on the trail). That was . . . interesting, and the tweezers came in handy. I had done my research—I just wasn’t paying enough attention.

Regarding mesquite, again, stay out of the grass and on a real hiking trail. Make sure you can recognize what a mesquite tree looks like and be extra careful when near one.

Ohio actually has a close relative with similar thorns, the honey locust. In fact, there’s one sitting right next to the Alligator Mound. Here it is:

Honey Locust Thorns

It was also grassy (but at least the grass was cut), so I looked around on the ground carefully before I walked too close to it. I have stepped on one of the thorns before though—no real damage.

Mesquite and Honey Locust are both legumes of the Fabaceae family, so it is no surprise that they’re so similar with similar thorns. Interestingly, the “Faba” part comes from the Latin for “bean”, and is a cognate of “fava”, which word you may recall from this clip:

[Of course, that means that a "fava bean" is really a "bean bean". ]

And by the way, even shoes aren’t much help against mesquite or honey locust thorns. There are numerous reports of them going right through the rubber soles of sneakers and even of deflating tires. The only real protection is being aware, whether barefoot or shod. (And, of course, when you are barefoot you are almost automatically more aware.)

Anyways, as I noted, the secret is to be aware of what to look for, and to look for it.

Yesterday I took a shot at my full-on backpack.

I didn’t fill up my backpack completely, but I did add stuff to get it up to 35 pounds (16kg). The extra room meant I carried my telephoto lens with me, too.

I then headed off to Conkle’s Hollow and Crane Hollow in Hocking Hills. I figured a couple of climbs would be good for me.

* Note to non-Americans: in the US, “fanny” does not mean what you think it means. It just means buttocks, and a “fanny pack” carries the weight right above the buttocks.

It took a bit to get things adjusted. I had a new Camelbak tube. And then I had to remember how I carried my camera on the outside. My map container needed to be cleaned out (it still had the maps in it from the Grand Canyon from last summer, so I guess that dates the last time I wore it.)

I started out going up the west side of the rim trail at Conkle’s Hollow. That starts out with a decent climb. Once up there, the trail heads north along one rim, with the other rim visible about 525 feet away. So, here’s a telephoto of that cliff face.

The Close-Up View Across Conkle’s Hollow

It’s spring break around here, so there were a lot of people out with their kids: 2 parents, a couple of bouncy 10-year-olds, and a sullen teenager who really didn’t want to be there and who was doing his best to exude that attitude.

As one heads north, the gorge narrows and hits a waterfall.

The Conkle’s Hollow Waterfall

In the upper left you can see one of the viewing platforms with other visitors standing on it. That also gives you a feel for the size of things.

At the very tip of the gorge it’s time to head back down the east side. Here I am about halfway back.

Along the Rim

We’ll often see these silly articles that talk about how bare feet may have been okay for our ancestors, but that modern surfaces like concrete require “support”. I am not standing on a “modern” surface. Our barefoot ancestors handled that sort of surface, too. Quite frankly, it’s quite a bit more comfortable than some scree-covered surfaces, too.

[My tripod was about a foot away from the edge there. Oh, and you can see my pack behind me.]

While Conkle’s Hollow is a State Nature Preserve, right adjacent to the east rim trail is State Forest, and a bridle trail runs along the edge there. This is a good switching point to head over to Crane Hollow, with its Vulture Point and Airplane Rock. My plan was to do a double crossing, bushwhacking down from the Vulture Point side, up to Airplane Rock, and then back again.

I should also point out that I was not in Crane Hollow State Nature Preserve, which requires permits. However, the very southern portion of Crane Hollow lies in the State Forest, and I was careful

So in a short while I was on the western rim of Crane Hollow. Across the way Airplane Rock was visible, so I got out my telephoto lens.

Airplane Rock from Across Crane Hollow

Nobody on it. Airplane Rock is on another of the bridle trails, and you can sometimes see people there. That’s about 850 feet away across the hollow.

I then headed down off the rim to cross the hollow. And here’s the underside of the cliff I was standing on when I took the Airplane Rock picture.

Looking Back While Descending into Crane Hollow

I had no idea I was hanging out in space with such an overhang.

Spring was just starting to pop. Here are some spring beauties that were just emerging from the leaves.

Spring Beauties

And what kind of wildflowers are those? Well, they are real spring beauties. Yes. But what kind of wildflowers are those?. I already told you: they are Spring Beauties. <chuckle>

I scrambled up to Airplane Rock along its north side. Here’s the view looking lengthwise along it, right towards Vulture Point, which is invisible from this direction. Airplane Rock just juts out into the middle of nowhere (which you could see on the telephoto view from across the rim).

The View Along Airplane Rock

It was then time for the return trip. So as not to repeat myself, I headed down the north side of the rock, recrossed Crane Creek, and ended up just below Vulture Point.

Vulture Point From Below

There were actually vultures (turkey vultures) circling above it. In fact, I thought I’d managed to get one in one of my pictures, but when I got back, no such luck. So you’ll have to be satisfied with this picture of the two of them that were circling overhead when I was at Airplane Rock.

The Vultures of Vulture Point

Hmmm. They were overhead when I was at Airplane Rock, and then when I got to Vulture Point, there they were again. I sure hope they weren’t trying to tell me something.

When you’re below Vulture Point, it’s time for a visit to the nearby Vulture Cave.

Inside Vulture Cave

Those are all massive rocks that have let loose from the ceiling over time.

Vulture Cave is just off the Conkle’s Hollow rim trail, so from there I just reconnected with it, and headed back to the parking lot.

Here’s one of my LiDAR topo maps so you can see what the topography of the area looks like. [If you click, you'll get a 900x600 image.]

Conkle’s Hollow Topographic Map

The locations of Airplane Rock and Vulture Point are precisely placed. It turns out that the bare rock shows up quite nicely in aerial views.

This wasn’t a particularly long hike, maybe 3½ miles or so. But I got in 3 uphill climbs, and the views of some spectacular scenery.