Day 21: The Things They Carried

(Big Bear, 266, to 278 = 12 miles)

My favorite stuff sacks.
Non-waterproof.

If I remember right, that's the title of a book or short story that we read in one of Ms. Ruth Michaud's high school English classes.  I don't remember it well, but I know the title referred to the personal items that soldiers kept with them during times of war.  This is not a war, but we have those kinds of things on trail, too.  And on today's easy breezy hike, I was thinking about mine.

But first!  I must explain that many of us know what each item in our pack weighs to the tenth of an ounce.  We carry as little as we are comfortable with.  My base weight (without food, fuel, and water) is around 17.  I have sent home extra socks, my mug and replacement mug, my belt, the lid to my pot (made one of foil), an extra sports bra, insoles, extra batteries, extra bandages, Tylenol, an emergency blanket, the Data Book, my journal, and a T-shirt.  All of this to shed ounces that turn into pounds.  And yet.  I carry a handful of items of no physical use and would never consider sending them home.  Here they are:

A little flare on the outside of my pack.

I have two gorgeous and unnecessary stuff sacks that a friend got in Guatemala.  I love the colors, and I use them to store my electronics, which are not so beautiful.  I think it gives them better energy.  I also keep my mp3 player in a small Jazzercise sack that my Jazzercise ladies gave me.  I don't need any of these sacks really, but they make me happy when I see them.  My store-bought stuff sacks are great, but they have no meaning.

I have ribbons clipped to the outside of my bag with an alligator clip.  The clip is from Jazzercise.  The ribbons were on a gift from Ann Maureen Scully, one of the female rangers I work with and deeply admire.  They are what I hope this trip will be -- light, bright, happy, colorful, and springing with energy.

Scout's mouse and my
stuffed animal for the trip.

I have a dead mouse from my late kitty, Scout.  That stuffed mouse has been killed too many times to count.  Scouters was my little boy and my best bud.  He was a little over a year when he was hit and had just turned from the cute runt with huge paws into a handsome, athletic, full-grown cat.  I still miss him terribly and find myself replaying all moments up to finding him in the road.  When the going gets rough, I reach into my pocket and squeeze that mouse.  Scout and I had a shared passion for the outdoors.

And last but not least, I have the written word.  A couple of poems, cards, and quotes from friends.  Two letters from my mate.  (Who, it turns out, has a wise old 80-year-old inside him, too; and this side comes out in letters.  The wise old 80-year-old lady inside me is also in love.)  All of these I turn to as needed or reflect upon as I hike down the trail lost in thought.  I have read most of them enough that I can just pull out lines and turn them over in my mind.  There is plenty of time to think out here.

We all have things like this in our life ... little bits and pieces that usually have no monetary value or physical purpose, but that we would never get rid of.  The values are intangible and cannot be measured.  They do not count against the base pack weight of life.  For they are what make the burden bearable.

The view over Big Bear Lake.