How very strange. I read a notice in the electronic bulletin board at my office; a woman co-worker asking if anyone had an old/unused backpack they were willing to part with. After much soul searching I decided I could live without my old backpack - not from REI, but a Sears Roebuck special. I couldn't afford the thing back then so I had to plead with my father and he was a great sport about it and bought the spanking new, buttercup yellow backpack for me.
That was ages ago, and lived out of it for an entire summer when on a internship in Cleveland National Forest in San Diego County. Those were the days - working like a field hand and feeling privileged to do so. Aside from that summer I used the pack on many a trip in Yosemite - the old Valley to Vernal and Nevada Falls hike - uphill through the mist trail.
Nowadays I just don't get that old thrill at the thought of loading up a few days supplies and trekking up, up, up to where the sky is blue, the air is clean and the scent of pines permeates the air. Nope. These days I don't even car camp, much less backpack. Last night I took the pack off the garage wall and marveled at the dust cobwebs that settled on it. And though I'm not about to go backpacking any more, this morning as my pack was carried off by a stranger, I took pleasure in knowing my old backpack is no longer hanging idle, its clevis pins getting increasingly rustier Nope, the bag is now off on adventures once again, only this time, without me. Bugger. I'm so bummed.
View of Nevada Falls from Yosemite Valley