The long walk home…..

The long walk home is always the worst part. I always over pack my backpack for the worst case scenario and the thing seems to weigh a ton. A little less than a year ago I broke my arm, shoulder, and tore my rotator cuff in a motorcycle accident. My shoulder balked with pain and soreness on the long hike home this morning. Putting on that heavy backpack is also an interesting experience as I have to sit down on the ground to put it on and then stand up. I still have very little strength in my left arm despite months of rehabilitation at the hospital last year.

Last evening it was much colder than I had thought it would be. I had to really layer my clothes the stay warm and keep the fire going hot and bright. My feet were the first to succumb to the cold and I had to take off my hiking boots and place my wool sock adorned feet near the fire. It also took a good two hours for my hoboes to cook thoroughly but that piping hot supper made a big difference in my body temperature and I was soon almost hot. I had to take off my heavy jacket to cool down a bit.

After supper, I sat by the fire listening to my radio and smoking my pipe. I had also brought along a pint of southern comfort and took occasional swigs from its flask. (Yes, I have started to drink again but on a very moderate basis. So far, so good.) My body soon coursed with the warmness the alcohol imbibed. One thing that spooked me was that with my headphones on and the radio playing, I couldn’t hear what was going on out in the forest. I would occasionally think I would hear something loud such as a loud crack of the underbrush and would take off my headphones and listen a good while. I could feel the adrenaline start to flow in these moments. At least there was a half moon so I could see a good distance around me but the moonlight and the fire cast eerie shadows.

This morning I got up before dawn and couldn’t go back to sleep. It was also very cold so I just lay in my sleeping bag listening to the pre-dawn sounds of the forest. There is a certain magical hour where just as the sun is coming up the forest comes to life. The birds all begin to call in earnest as if to announce the rising of the sun. Another thing that always piques my senses is the smell of the forest on a cold morning. That smell brings back a thousand memories from my homeless days; that smell of pine pitch and decomposing leaf litter on the forest floor.

After the day had warmed up a bit, I put on some warm clothes and hiked down to the nearby stream to filter some water into my water bottle. I got enough for my little camp coffee maker and headed back up the trail. I then got another fire started and lit my little propane stove. Upon it I got my morning coffee going and listened to the morning edition of NPR as I added more wood to the fire to get it roaring. I didn’t feel like cooking breakfast and was not that hungry. I had two eggs and two slices of bacon in a zip lock bag and just gave them to whatever forest denizens cared for them.

I decided to forego my fishing trip as the day turned out to be much colder than I had assumed. There was a brisk, out of the north, wind and the temps stayed in the thirties. I finished my coffee, packed up all my gear, put out the fire, and heading the 5 miles home. All in all, it was an enjoyable trip except for the cold this morning. It is damn hard to get out of that warm sleeping bag when it is below freezing outside.