Procrastination can take many forms, sometimes it even wears the guise of a celebration. I should have been doing homework, but with the semester almost at an end, freedom was too close not to take a taste. No, I did not go on a hike to celebrate the almost-end of my first year as a grad student, and exorbitant quantities of reading and “thinking.” I slipped some plastic out of my wallet, sat before the all powerful glowing screen of my laptop and shopped, an activity I don't take lightly.
I've maxed out my library card borrowing picture books. That’s how I’m getting my kicks these days. No, I’m not pregnant. I’m thrill-seeking. Parenting is a series of adrenaline rushes, one after another, but it isn’t perfect.
The problem with kids is that they don't last.
Some people will do anything to shave a few ounces of weight from their packs. Myself, I am a light weight, except when it comes to packing. Previously I’ve struggled and failed to leave my packrat tendencies at home. Rickety knees, however, inspired a great leap of faith. A few weeks ago I went hiking without a tent or stove.
"Are you kidding?" I asked frozen in disbelief. No, she wasn't kidding. "Leave No Trace," I’d heard that somewhere before. Through a fog of incredulity I tried to imagine how the phrase might be applied to me.
“Some people even carry out their solid waste."
Shit. Solid waste? “As in, they shit in a bag and carry it out with them?" I asked.
Tara nodded.
Confession: I went on vacation and did not hike. It’s my mother-in-law’s fault. She’s quite a temptress. She dangled free beach front lodgings in front of us. We salivated, nodded and said something nearly as articulate as, “yeah, uh huh, that sounds good.”
So last weekend I found myself on the Cape (that’s
But my vacation was not all sun and roses.
Resist.
Between hikes I walk. Should I cross paths with anyone, I like to shout out a friendly greeting, “Lovely Weather!” If one is going to have a disposition, it might as well be sunny. Admittedly, I am in general quite generous with the weather. My definition of “lovely” excludes only freezing rain, hail and wind gusts above 45 mph.
Lately I’ve noticed a peculiar phenomenon. If the weather is unexpectedly fair, my exclamation of “lovely weather” is always met with a shake of the head and a statement of regret, “global warming, it’s a shame.”
Unseasonably good weather is bad. Time for self-flatulation, the sun is out. Oops, I meant to spell self-flagellation although perhaps the former would also be an appropriate way to punish ourselves (a good corollary of what the planet is experiencing).
It’s a real dilemma for hikers. The best part of hiking is getting out of doors. But the best part of hiking isn’t always getting into the weather. It's hard not to hope for fair weather. Don't do it. Don’t pray to the weather gods for sun and warmth. NO, absolutely not, not between Sept. 15th and April 15th anyway. (I said, no, you greedy little self-interested heathens!)
Global warming has turned unseasonably good weather into a depressing omen of the further ills to come.
Depressing thoughts about the ruinous state of our planet always remind me of “The Rocky Horror Picture Show" (RHPS). On the front of it, the film is about personal freedoms and excesses, but buried within is an environmental message.
What better way to celebrate the winter solstice than hiking? Let the brisk cold air freeze your nostril hairs together. Wear several constrictive layers of long underwear. Pray for purchase as you crunch and slip over the unpredictable winter terrain.
Everyone should commune with nature on midwinter’s eve, unless you have a headache or you’re tired, in which case you should watch The Dark Crystal.
The reasons why one should watch this Jim Henson masterpiece are limitless, but for hikers and nature enthusiasts this epic film adventure holds special appeal.
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