The Sport of Self-Reliance (standard:travel stories, 4751 words)
Author: Rick	Added: Jul 22 2003	Views/Reads: 7437/3187	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Mike's car was the perfect cocoon for effortless transport. How ironic, he thought, to be so completely dependent upon this warm and powerful automobile to take him to the start of a long weekend wilderness hike that would have no such conveniences...

An early morning October sun poked through the trees in the quiet
suburban Boston neighborhood as Mike pulled out of his garage.  He had 
surrounded himself with a typical array of driving amenities -- hot 
coffee in a travel mug, radio tuned to his favorite jazz station, 
charged cell phone  -- in preparation for a four-hour road trip to the 
mountains of New Hampshire.  The heat flowing from the dashboard vents 
and the soft leather seat created a perfect cocoon for effortless 
transport.  How ironic, he thought, to be so completely dependent upon 
this warm and powerful automobile to take him to the start of a long 
weekend wilderness hike that would have no such conveniences.  By noon, 
he fully expected to be shouldering his fifty-five pound backpack and 
setting off on a forest trail, relying entirely on his own strength and 
resourcefulness to climb the most storied peak in New England, Mt. 
Washington.  Mike was an experienced backpacker and had prepared all 
the necessary gear, food and clothing he would need.  As he drove, his 
mind wandered back to his younger days when he had spent extended 
periods of time hiking in the wilderness, including a six-month jaunt 
up the Appalachian Trail.  However, professional life, marriage and 
starting a family had intervened, affording him only two precious long 
weekends per year to challenge the wilds of nature.  As the years 
passed, he had noticed how increasingly difficult each of these trips 
had become, due in no small part to having not kept up a regular 
exercise routine.  Nevertheless, he was happy to escape from his 
work-commute-family routine.  With that thought, he refocused his mind 
on beating the highway commuter rush and making it to Jason's apartment 
in Boston by seven o'clock. 

Mike had commuted to Boston every day for the past twelve years, so this
first leg of the trip was no different than his usual morning routine.  
He listened to the traffic reports and grumbled at the ineptitude of a 
few other drivers.  However, wearing a fleece sweater and baseball cap 
rather than his usual white oxford shirt and tie reminded him that he 
would soon be far away from this rat race.  He made it to Jason's 
downtown apartment right on time.  He rang the doorbell and Jason 
opened the door. 

“Hey there, buddy,” Jason stepped back to welcome him in. 

“Hey.  You ready?” Mike inquired. 

“Almost...just have to find my down mittens and a couple other things. 
Want something to eat?” Jason asked. 

“No thanks, I'm all set.” 

Mike looked down at Jason's beaten up Boy Scout backpack, “Still using
that old thing?” 

“Yeah, it's a little tricky to strap the sleeping bag on, but works well
otherwise.” 

Jason was also a middle-aged experienced backpacker, in fact an extreme
sporting enthusiast in general.  As a confirmed bachelor, he had had 
the time to pursue a variety of intensely active endeavors including 
technical mountain climbing, cycling and windsurfing.  He had thus 
developed a slender, wiry yet muscular body in contrast to Mike's 
softer, slightly overweight condition. 

Jason continued to gather his stuff and bring it out to his front
hallway as Mike waited somewhat impatiently.  Having already been on 
the road for an hour, Mike was anxious to get on with it.  He glanced 
at his watch suggestively and said, 

“I think we're in good shape.  We should make it to the trail head by
ten-thirty or eleven at the latest.  That will give us a solid six 
hours of daylight for hiking.” 

“Yeah, I looked at the trail map last night,” Jason replied, “We should
have no trouble getting to the camp site in good time.  Should I put my 
pack in your trunk?” 

“Sure.  My pack is in the back seat.  You can stick your boots and other
stuff on the floor back there.” 

Mike helped him carry the rest of his stuff out to the car and opened


Click here to read the rest of this story (433 more lines)