These Are a Few of My Favorite Things

I am a part of all that I have seen.

James Joyce in Ulysses

No, I will not be singing the praises of “raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens” today, though these things are worthy of celebration. My favorite things are what you see in the photo above: a bear canister filled with freeze dried food, my backpack which makes it possible for me to make camp in a beautiful place, my lightweight stove, a multitool to make life on the trail a little easier, and of course my sweet old teacup. What you do not see in the photo are my tent, my sleeping bag, and of course my journal, which I never fail to have with me on the trail.

This is the time of year when I usually start taking inventory of my equipment, checking to see if anything is in need of repairs, taking note of items that must be replaced, and researching equipment reviews so that I can take advantage of the latest advances in ultra-lite technology.

Over the years I have dropped about twenty pounds in pack weight, having to abandon the giant packs that made it possible for me to make those long treks in the wilderness alone. I miss those trips, and the chance to embrace solitude in a beautiful place for such a long period of time. Sadly, the heavy pack has contributed to the back pain I now experience, and I am at a painful junction in my life, quite literally. I must decide whether or not I should go backpacking this summer or ever again.

As I take my equipment out of the camping shed and begin my yearly inspection, I feel a strange mixture of sadness and guilt, as if I am saying good-bye to a good friend. Over many years this equipment has come alive for me. I have this strange belief that my stove wants to be right there with me, turning river water into tea. My sleeping bag wants to wrap me in down and keep me warm through the night. And of course my green teacup wants to be held in my hands, caressed, savored.

How to be at peace with these painful decisions? Aging gracefully is a concept I have never quite understood, but I do not intend to shake my fist at the universe because I am an old woman who must curtail this strenuous activity that has caused me injury.

Instead I am grateful that these items have accompanied me on dozens of journeys that have often lifted my spirits out of difficult times, taken me to places the average person will never see, and comforted me in my tent when I am waiting out a rainstorm.

These moments, these memories are who I am. I am still a backpacker regardless of whether or not I ever carry my pack out onto the trail again. I don’t mind an aching back. It was all so worth it.