Encounter

For the last five years, we have truly tired to live a very healthy life style. My wife has joined a health club and I have started a very vigorous walking program.

We live in the beautiful San Joaquin Valley I central California. Established walnut, almond, peach and cherry orchards dominate the landscape. Along with hundreds of acres of corn, the valley is noted for its tomatoes, watermelons, grapes and lush alfalfa fields. The best apples around can be had by driving 40 miles up into the hills east of here to “Apple Hill”, where there is no lack of diversity in home marketing for the favorite fruit. Most is raised for profit but a lot is just grown for home use. There is no shortage of canning and freezing opportunities for the industrious.

Needless we live in a land blessed with plenty of sunshine and usually abundant water supply for the mountains. Our water comes in the form of snow run off to catch basins in dams and mountain lakes. Lately, however, with the lack of winter rainfall, our mountain water supply has dwindled at an alarming rate. Our rainfall comes between November and March with the rest of the year being totally without any measurable precipitation. (This year, 2008, we have had no measurable rainfall since February – six months – with none in sight until possibly the last of October, making it a total of eight months without rain of any kind.)

I don’t mind the lack of rain but the trees get laden with a lot of dust. The first rain of the year is tremendously refreshing as you can imagine. The roads are slick from accumulated grime on the highways and accidents happen with frequency. The news is always trying to make people aware of the road conditions when the first rains are expected.

But I digress from the purpose of this story.

My walking has taken me to five miles a day. Through fog, rain, sunshine and wind, I have walked on and on early in the morning. I varied my walking from time to time trying different routes but usually went back to my favorite one.

Current walking shoes are kept by the back door in the garage, where my walking stick is kept. I must make quite a spectical on the encounters I make on the walking route.

I usually cut down through the access road between properties through the walnut, almond and peach orchards that line the properties that surround our home. Walking can take me for a couple of miles before I actually would walk on any pavement and then the pavement only lasted one of the five miles. I never really walked fast but I was a steady plodder enjoying what was passing by.

Besides the walking stick, I always had my cell phone, (that I used with frequency), my hat on occasions when it was cold or I needed shade and pepper spray, in case of encounters with belligerent animals, dogs mostly. These accoutrements were carried in a red fanny pack I found at a flea market or yard sale, I don’t remember when or where. It has been with me so long it has become a trade mark of my walking “daze.”

My walking took a nose dive after a trip to Florida where we stayed on the second floor of a home we were helping to improve. For ten days I was up and down the stairs carrying things both up and down many times a day.

The trips up and down the stairs were getting more and more difficult until they had to stop altogether, only necessity would make me use the stairs. Even the walking on flat ground became more difficult.

After returning home it was determined that the knee and more specific the knee cap had been torn and surgery was recommended to correct the problem. While this procedure was coming to fruition, I had a stroke which dominated the landscape of my being. Surgery, to clean out the coratid artery, was strategize and within a week I was out of the hospital recovering from surgery.

Recovering some lost abilities stared me down. At first I struggled to regain balance. The reading ability didn’t return right away because the words seemed to change places and sometimes dance around the page. It was frustrating and very discouraging at times, but with time it got better.

Being in crowds still makes me very uncomfortable. I now use a walking stick when in areas where there is not a clear path or my wife is not available to hold onto.

The sofa has become my haven for rest and recuperation. I can watch the world go by and even enjoy it. But don’t think that is all there is to life now. Many activities have been added and my life again has become a sometimes blur of activity, especially with grand children.

Mowing the lawns have again returned to my duties. The mower somewhat is my stabilizer as I cross and re-cross the seemingly vast expanse of lawns we try to keep up. Occasionally, in crowds, I still use a walking stick for balance, but can make a good effort to seem to be a normal upright human being.

Here, again, I have digressed from my story intent.

After about a year and a half, I have again been able to drive the car, with the encouragement/direction of my wife. She has been unusually tolerant, very understanding and most helpful in regaining my independence once more. Now anyone passing by would be hard pressed to know I ever had a problem. Most of the problems are now internal ones that I must deal with on an hour to hour day to day basis. My typing is almost as good as before. There are still words that are elusive and challenging, but for the most part life has come back to almost normal.

The walking again would bring back the last pin in the train of daily living that I so wanted to continue.

Several months ago, on my last walk through the orchards, the sun was shining, I was talking on my cell phone just heading for home, a little over a half mile from home. If there had been no trees I could have seen the house.

There was a field of alfalfa to my left, a large field of perhaps three acres. The alfalfa had been recently cut and was lying in rows drying. There are small access roads between fields where workers and owners can get into the property to spray for weeds or other farming duties that demand attention. On one such road I could see a young man on a motorcycle exercising his dog and gaining some time along with his machine. The two of them came to the intersection of the roads much before I did. They were still a quarter of a mile away. I stopped and watched, fascinated by the apparent bond of the dog and human.

The young man saw me and turned his bike around and called to the dog to follow. The motorbike was a distance back down the path but the dog had spotted me and was now fixated on my presence. He began running in my direction, intent on eliminating this being from his presumed territory. In vain his owner called and shouted, demanding the dog to come back. The bike again come back to the intersection and turned toward me and the now energized dog.

I pulled my pepper spray from the fanny pack and extended it toward the dog as he circled around me looking for a good attack venue. I don’t remember how many times we went in circles. I was getting dizzy but the dog seemed to actually enjoy the dance we were doing.

The dog owner was frantically trying to get a hold of the dog’s collar to restrain him yelling at him to stop. The dog was unflappable, his mind was set and he was going to have his goal. All this time I had been talking on the phone. Now I stopped to concentrate on the danger of the current situation.

I have encountered dogs before along with, opossums, rats, cats, and even wily coyotes, but none of them ever offered to endanger me in any way. My policeman son always warned me about walking through the orchards because of the danger from unsavory characters that might be lurking there.

The present danger didn’t really scare me and I kept up with the circling dog as he wound around and around me, looking for that attack spot.

The dog’s young owner finally was able to restrain the dog by holding very tightly to the studded collar. He looked up at me and for the first time said anything to me or even acknowledged me. He said, “Thanks for not using you spray.”

I moved on, still talking on the phone, looking back over my shoulder to see where the dog and owner were.

The owner held the dog for quite a while or at least until I was quite a ways down the access road. The dog had lost interest in pursuing me and if the truth be known, I was happy he had.

Many times I have relived the scenario, but never with fear. The dog didn’t realize what I had in my hand nor did he realize the consequences of his actions toward me

I am not so sure the walking will continue through the orchards. I miss the spring, summer fall and winter aspects of the trips and will have to find some substitute for the walks. I know that gyms have exercise machines but they leave me cold. I have enjoyed the trees, fresh air, some animals encountered along the way and people I have met while walking. I have matured (aged) and will perhaps, slow some in my accomplishments or perhaps add new avenues to my daily activities. Who knows I may add a whole new dimension to my life.