Thursday, December 3, 2015

It All Started When...my wanderlust origin story.

When I was in 7th grade, my school librarian gave me every issue of Backpacker magazine that had been printed until that year.  1987-the year you could totally wear a tank top, suspenders, an open button-down shirt with rolled up sleeves, stonewashed jeans and...socks that exactly matched the tank top.  If you were really cool, DOUBLE socks, the other pair would match the suspenders.  And scrunchies for the hair-that matched the socks.  It was an awesome time to be alive and suddenly not just for sock-based ponytail-to-one-side fashion.

The first time I recall camping was in a huge army surplus canvas tent that probably weighed 40 pounds.  It had lots of poles that made hollow clanging noises as my parents dropped them while arguing about how the tent went up.  We ended up sleeping in the van we'd borrowed to haul all of our stuff.  I had sprayed myself with OFF! and gotten some in my older sister's cup of cocoa.  She assured me she was as good as dead.  Whiner

We camped a few more times, but my parents were both sharecropper's kids in the 40's in rural Alabama.  They'd had enough primitive living, years later my mother would move herself and her husband into an RV and as far as I know, they live there still.  My father hasn't camped in decades.

I poured over those magazines, making lists (my favorite thing!) and plans.  I shopped the camping section at Wal-Mart, the only North AL outdoor supply store that wasn't 90% hunting 8% Boy Scout supplies and 2% backpacking gear that ranged in the $100 range.

I set up the Army tent in the back yard the day after school let out and lived in it all summer the year I was 13.  When I was 14, I spent a month in the Rockies camping in a tiny tent with my mother and (not dead from bug spray!) older sister who was 28.  About 3 weeks in, I bought myself a foam pad because I was nearly frozen solid each night, something my Alabama brain could not fathom-cold in July!  WOW.

The summer I turned 17, I spent 5 weeks in the Rockies building trail with the SCA on the Idaho/Montana border.  I loved it, though I never got used to being cold, there was even snow on the ground. In July!

I was a mama by 21 and again at 23 and a final new babe at 25.  We camped as much as we could with the kids, money being tight, always.  I never lost my yearning to backpack and held on to my backpack from when I was 17 through every move and every purge of outgrown and unneeded things.

My husband had apnea to the point that he could not sleep without a CPAP.  Backpacking just wasn't an option with him.  I took the kids primitive camping often, but never more than a night or two.  When they were 6, 8 and 10, I bought them backpacks, but they were not into the whole idea of hiking away from the car and sleeping in the woods without Dad.  I wasn't either, to be honest.

We continued to camp several times a year, even had a small popup for a while to extend the season into summer (that AC made a huge difference!) and Matt had surgery for the apnea and lost a good bit of weight. When the kids were 11, 13 and 15, we had our first backpacking trip, an overnight.  I nearly froze, the kids were covered in ticks, we bailed a day early for fear of frostbite and/or Lime disease!

We tried a few more times, with and without Matt.  We went with friends and on our own and in the end, only my youngest maintained any real interest in continuing to backpack.  They are 16, 18 and 20 now, so I can head out with Matt or with another mom friend and get in a night or two now and then.  If I can wrangle his friends to come along, the youngest will join.

So that's where I am now, with only a scattering of backpacking under my belt, still using my backpack from 1991 (for now, it really does need upgrading!) and still making lists and dreaming of longer hikes. 

I have a few on the horizon and I have accomplished several I have been eyeballing for years. Luckily I won't run out of options nearby for a while yet.

My and my pack!






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