Parameters. Believe that's the word. When to set off for Ely's more to the point? What to carry? Need maps and a pack. Rain gear. Clothes. Shoes. Butt wipe. Tent, sleeping bag, food, pots, pans, a book to read. A whole lot of stuff. So much I wonder if a sixty-three year old Dutchman like me can carry it all. Good thing it's spring and I've plenty of time to think about it and prepare 'til it's time to wise up and bag the whole thing. Like to say I'm no fool but if I'm anything, being a fool's usually at the top of my to-do list.
I make jokes about the problem of carry weight but realize what it means. Misery. Hard to have a good time and smell the roses when your shoulders are screaming bloody murder. Could have easily dropped the whole idea but once the seed was planted it grew quickly. Took root like a weed you might say. With no intention of being pulled. Done enough gardening to know weeds pull easily enough but also leave tiny little roots behind and are back and smiling in a day or so. Figured it'd be best to let my hiking weed grow 'til it found its way to Ely and back.
Hatched me a plan. First off would be a trip down to the cities to visit relatives, have a couple of free meals then hit a few outdoor stores. Thought about walking the aisles of the Army-Navy surplus in downtown Minneapolis but soon remembered the weight of that stuff. The Army's long into heavy duty. Thick, dense, enduring (like some of the cadre). Want the stuff to last through the mud and fire of a war. I'd survived my war. Done my share of misery and figured to learn from it. I wanted the pack as light as possible. Intended to visit Hoigaard's outdoor store and the brand new Burger Brother's I'd heard about. Between the pair I hoped they had what I was looking for.
Second was conditioning. Yeah, I was in pretty good shape for a sixty-three year old man. But in good enough shape to hike three hundred miles through the woods of the Arrowhead with forty-five pounds on my back? Once I had my gear and pack I'd break them in - and me down - by taking us out for an evening's stroll or two. Figured once a twelve miler with a full load didn't kill me I'd give Ely a try.
Then, out of nowhere came plan number three - a stash. The Border Trail changes into the Kekekabic Trail - those were the routes I intended to follow - where it crosses the Gunflint fifty or sixty miles from the cabin. Maybe a cache of supplies in a wood box suspended from a tree somewhere around there? Hmmm. That'd cut my weight down by close to ten pounds. Got so excited when the idea hit me I had to take a leak.
My trip to the cities was an adventure. Hit town during rush hour and got swamped in a river of traffic. By the time I broke free of the current I was half way to Wisconsin. Guess I'd spent too much time in the quiet of the Arrowhead where my nearest neighbor was better than a mile away. Heavy traffic to me was anything more than a truck an hour headin' up or down the McFarland Road. Finally, I pulled off the freeway, grabbed the map and headed back to my sister's house over city streets. Much better way to travel and a whole lot less hassle. Seems the world's got it's foot on the gas pedal and pushin' down harder all the time.
First stop in the morning was Hoigaard's. Would've gone to Burger Brothers first but it turned out they wouldn't be open for another year. Those kind of things happen to me all the time. Me and the natural order of things occasionally part ways. Both forward and backward, 'Sposed to meet a buddy over at Jack the Horse Lake to wet our lines at seven in the morning and I show up two months before he's even asked me.
They say some people never show up on time, would even be late for their own funeral. Me, I've already been to my funeral. Even had a good time. 'Course a few people soiled their drawers seein' me walking around and in the coffin at the same time. Odd thing was, I wasn't both places. Only looked like I was. Even checked that out with my buddy Mike the hairless werewolf. Had him put his hand on my shoulder - bein' what he was you didn't ever want to get too close to Mike - and take a look in the coffin. So long as he was holding on and looking inside, I wasn't in the box. Soon's he'd let go, poing!, there I was, the perfect door nail.
Mike did a double-double take and laughed, "Don't that beat all. And I thought going bald every time the moon rose full was weird."
Good thing for me Hoigarrd's was already there. Had everything I was looking for - and a few things I wasn't - even if it was bein' sold by a buckskin clad, long hair to beaded moccasins, clerk. Looked like his problem with time beat mine all to pieces. Me bouncin' around a month here, a year there and him in the store lookin' like he'd showed up for work two hundred years late.
In twenty-five words or less I explained my ambitions and what I was looking for in gear, "Should weigh next to nothing and cost about the same." His grin told me my hopes were unfounded, then rocketed off on a spiel about weight, space age metals, coefficients of something or other and lifetime durability. Never once mentioned cost. While he was rambling on I was turning tags. Also asking how much each thing weighed and mentally figuring out dollars per ounce. My truck's the standard. Comes in at around sixty cents a pound. A frame pack at a buck and a half an ounce. Top that off with the truck carrying me and me having to carry the pack. Seemed ass-backwards. Would be easier and cheaper to drive to Ely much less go through the misery of a three week hike.
It's tough on an old guy to admit a kid knows more than he does. Foolish pride. What he did do and it went dead against the grain of capitalism, was to tell me how to save five pounds of weight and forty bucks at the same time. Had me exchange the idea of a tent with a waterproof, nylon tarp, bug netting, some stakes and a hundred feet of parachute cord. Even drew up instructions how to rig it. Still, it didn't make it any easier when the cash register toted up the bill. But I walked out the door feelin' pretty good about what I'd bought. Funny how that goes when you buy quality. Grumbled my way in the door, smiled my way out.
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