FEATURED POST

Don’t worry, it’s not what you think…

Courage in a rucksack

Today’s Sunday, one of the two days I’m on the schedule this week.  The other day, Coby finally went nuts and started about the task of organizing our living room closet that, in the span of a year, has slowly amassed the lion’s share of my gear, representing all of the seasons–from rock climbing to ice and ski gear.  Beneath the layers of climbing packs and haulbags beside the filing cabinet–where once we intended to separate and to store our stockpile of hats, gloves, climbing shoes and other, miscellaneous outdoor accoutrement–I discovered my Wild Things RockSac and the smaller, LS QuickPac.  And all of sudden, despite my relatively recent, and absolute conversion to all things Cilo, I stood there, stunned at the realization of what lay ahead of me–my promise to Cobes that I would toss them both into the consignment room here at IME.

And so as I pulled out the manilla tags and pondered how I’d label them and how much I’d want for them, I remembered an editorial I found once in one of the earlier Alpinists, I don’t remember which; I had stumbled upon it only after I had read the pulp of the magazine some days earlier, and having re-read these articles, I had then moved on to the “finer print” of the title page, the letters, and of course, Christian’s “Letter from the Editor.”  This one was all about the day he saw a battered old pack for sale in the used gear section of the local climbing shop.  He purchased the seasoned warrior and after a few minor repairs, the pack went on to share countless adventures; in the many memories of his time spent in the hills, this pack was omnipresent–almost a symbol, it could even be the title of a chapter if he chose to write an autobiography.

So as I lean over the counter with a new Sharpie, I reflect for a moment all of the different versions of me that have traveled with this pack, of all the days I felt the weight of its straps on my shoulders, of the places its been, and of all of the posessions it once held but that I do not own anymore.  I scribbled a brief description, followed by a steal of a price–$15–in the hopes that one day, the would-be owner of this faded and patched–yet, trusted–relic of my past will see many more alpine starts, the rhythm of steel over perfect, cold neve in the silver-blue light of pre-dawn in the mountains…

Front:
“Wild Things RockSac, $15 *Needs hipbelt, the zipper on the lid could use some love!”

Back:
“*This pack has been all over; if only it could speak–the stories it would tell!  It’s still has a lot of life left in it, many more adventures.  Get after it!”