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The Sport of Self-Reliance (standard:travel stories, 4751 words) | |||
Author: Rick | Added: Jul 22 2003 | Views/Reads: 7413/3166 | 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)
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