Still on the Trail

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature’s soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?

William Shakespeare in Henry III

Over the past couple of years that I have been writing this weekly blog, I have learned that the posts I share about equipment are always the most popular ones, generating the most reads and sparking abundant comments. The comments follow a similar pattern and are most frequently made by older hikers like myself. They start out with a certain degree of nostalgia, mirroring that which I always describe in my posts, and then going on to relate the various equipment improvements they have made over the years, and finally praising the comfort that the new equipment has provided.

My posts of course follow that same theme. While I might indeed have some nostalgia for the years I slept on a simple roll of bubble wrap, I would not consider trading in my Big Agnes AXL Air for a return to simplicity.

Last summer on my first backpacking trip in June, I was still recovering from a fractured shoulder blade that had happened several months earlier. While the pain had improved by that time, sleeping continued to be problematic for me, as lying on my back created pressure on that broken bone, which has never healed. Turning to sleep on my side was itself painful, and I was afraid that sleeping on the hard ground would make it even more difficult.

I was wrong. I was not sleeping on the hard ground but on a cushion of air, which proved to be more comfortable even than my comfy bed at home with its memory foam. It had been raining when I arrived in camp that afternoon and continued as I set up my tent, so I was a little grumpy when I finally retreated into the shelter of my tent, and my air mattress welcomed me with ease. I had not had a sound night of sleep for several months. This was nothing short of bliss.

The experience caused me to think about how technology has added to the comfort I experience on the trail. The next morning I sat on a log with my usual cup of tea, reading a book about sound as it appeared on the screen of my iPhone. For many years I was reluctant to read books on my phone. I preferred the comfort of a real book in my hand, and I still do. There is something about a dog eared paperback that always takes me to that place of comfort, whether I am on the trail or at home in front of the wood stove enjoying a quiet evening. I miss the comfort that a real book provides on the trail, but the phone offers endless possibilities: poetry, creative nonfiction, novels, field guides, a physics textbook, all at my fingertips. The experience is not the same but is satisfying, and I no longer need to live in abject fear that I will finish my paperback and have nothing else to read on the trail.

Boomers are often criticized for not fully embracing technology. My grandsons politely smile when I ask for help with my iPhone with questions like this: “What about that arrow thingy? What do I do with that?” But the truth is that we probably benefit more from technology on the trail than any other age group. My air mattress has enabled this old, broken body to sleep soundly on the hard ground. My phone provides endless reading material for me. My stove is easier to start and burns efficiently, heating up boiling water for a cup of tea in about three minutes.

And then there is this: my Garmin InReach enables me to text friends and family when I am alone on the trail, and more importantly, to call for help should I ever need it, something that has provided reassurance for my family and for me. There may well come a time when I will need to pick it up, press that SOS button, and feebly say to whomever is on the other end of the line, “Help! I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up.” In the meantime, I am still out there on the trail.