thirtythree

I found a ring at the hot springs.  Woken at 4AM by drunken campers just returning, I decided to depart.  Rewarded by forgotten food and this steel halo.  Normally allergic to cheap metals, I remain impervious to this hoop.  I’ve been wearing it on my left hand’s ring finger, the spot normally used to signify a hand bound by holy matrimony  I was confused, and have been able to spread this confusion, by the left hand for marriage being for both genders.  Shouldn’t one’s wedding ring reside upon the opposite hand, so that when the two ringed hands are clasped together, the rings are in conjunction, forming the infinite ∞?  But I digress, gender equality, left hand for each.  And so I wear it there.  I’m not sure what I’m married to yet, but if a person should ask I’ll say that She’s around, like God is everywhere, or my body is entangled, or my spirit is tethered to it.  Above all though, a symbol of commitment.  To this life and what lies beyond.  It is truly a magnificence and should be regarded as more than such.  A symbol of renouncing the absent mind, to embrace consciousness to the fullest as life in a body was meant to employ.  A social experiment aswell.  I see marriage above all, as a thumbs-up from the opposite sex.
“Marriage: A member of the female community has given my character approval.”
All it would take from a mature observer is a casual glance at my proudly displayed left hand to know that there is someone in the world who would have a part of them die along with me should I. Being half of a whole, but most curious. You’re a travelling backpacker, where is your mate? “She’s around.” Oh so you’re travelling together? that’s nice let me contribute to your pilgrimage through mutual love. Let me be yet another happy smile in a long line thereof. Oh how you youngsters remind me of my youth and pleasures passed. Please leave me now in this state of mine before our interaction evolves to let me know just how old and withered my skin and heart have become. Will people treat me differently while I wear this ring? Will opportunity for coupling increase? From those temptatuous vixens looking to complicate my claimed heart in adultery?
At the very least it could prove to be a valuable conversation starter, for who could love a vagabond? People would want to know. Our very nature evokes despise in the hearts entrenched the deepest in functional society. We are completely superfluous, almost a detraction from the whole, whose presence is a direct indicator of a civilization producing in excess of its needs. Surely without these dirty hippies wandering around, we would forget what we worked so hard to attain. The world has been shaped against us. Laws have been written forbidding our camping and squatting. I sense, out of a sick jealousy. In an economy completely dependent upon tourism, where you can expect to pay for campsites or at the very most a room within five-star resorts, I am the walking, tenting, anti-thesis. My kind is considered an eyesore. People are on vacation to feel free in a world of borders and bills, only to be confronted by a smelly ape with his life on his back, free beyond use. The existential crisis was not included on the accommodation’s pamphlet. So after some time, signs have been posted and rules have been set against our free passage. The whole world accepted this taxation on a good night’s sleep, while I duck across the ditch into some woods off the highway. Passing cars and trucks dwindle in frequency, hinting to my subconscious the time of night, all the while spelling security. People are literally right there should I need them. Lazy mornings and resumed dreams account for half of my time, inside the glorious mobile tent. A collapsible turtle shell. Only now as I leave them in the day do I take on any semblance as a normal human being with car and adequate self-sponsorship.
A bit of unease lies behind these words, worry most basic that the sleeping shell will not reside where I left it upon this evening’s return. It comes down to a question of glory. Can I bring more glory to God with this gear that took months in acquiring, leaving it in faith that it shall reside there upon my return? Or will the glory derived from losing it, all the while persevering on the journey with less and waiting patiently to manifest worthy replacements, equate to more a profusive level of honouring God? A lot has to do with the spot. I feel confident that the only people willing to venture into this area would be others in my shoes, looking for a convenient camp close to a beach that forbids overnight camping. The clear ground hints at past residents with similar goals in mind. I dare not go to check at its continued presence, lest someone of authority in this national park spot me and grow wise to my doings. It’s bad enough that a truck working for the sub-contracted grounds-keepers saw me materialize out of nature this morn. But what have they to gain by divulging my motives? It was last night when the risk became more apparent. Just after donning the pack to begin looking to make camp, who do I see but police traipsing along the beach in fluorescent yellow uniforms, their very presence broadcasting a sense of self-consciousness to those intoxicated and sober alike. I have no doubt, that if I had taken five more minutes to pack up, I’d had been subjected to rounds of questioning aimed to unearth my unlawful intentions. Their true function being to serve and protect – the tax payer. I get all mine back, these cops owe nothing to me personally. Even rolling sober, I am in constant danger of having drugs planted on me during a “routine search.” Should I decline, “Well, well, well, what have we to hide young man?” Long story short, I’ll be in bed long before dusk this eve. Perhaps a late-night jaunt to the fine sandy shore to witness the fabled bio-luminescence these parts imbibe. Each step echoing in glowing remembrance of your once existing passage, only to fade away, a true microcosm of life.

twentynine

Because the drive to teach, expression through lecture, stems from insecurity.  Are you that desperate to have an external individual hear your intellectual excrement and nod in approval, even give thanks for?  Humble up motherfucker.  Take that high road, because the difference between knowledge and wisdom is admitting you know nothing at all.  Be a developmental ninja.  Carry yourself confidently among the meek and make them think you are one of them, so as to better effect change.  Never directly, always indirectly.  See your body and language as puppets, tethered by strings to your higher self connected and unified with destiny.  Let your very presence be the inspiration for the masses, and not any mask you wear to wow this particular person or that distinct demographic.  Be relatable.  Just another guy on Earth, just like you.  For even the most polar opposite of people have more in common than different.  They may not be alive or we may not have met them, but we all have a mother and a father.  More grandiose, they are the Sun and the Earth.
“The Sun impregnated the Earth with its photonic sperm. We are all their children.”
Acknowledge their role in your creation and give thanks, but ultimately serve Grandfather Universe as they do.  Genderless as It is, a better name would be Grandparent.  And recognize when all others of different faiths and orthodoxies refer to God, Allah, Source, etc, they indeed mean this unified creator, who split merely to know Itself.  That we are all indeed representatives and reflections of different parts and all parts of this One.  Hold Acceptance, Feel Presence, and Give Reverence.
But getting back to the physical.  The micro and macro nutrient paradigm is just so scientific and far from the reality of the highly emotional counterpart to the pleasure of eating.  There’s really only one thing to do without when backpacking – water.  At least in BC, the stuff is everywhere, and it’s all palatable, no, the best water you’ll ever drink. It is free of chlorine and parasites, not to mention, the heaviest and most dense stuff you’ll ever carry around, unless you’re crazy like me holding a hundred small crystals as gifts for strangers.  I’ll carry at maximum a litre of water and a litre of hydrated, ready-to-eat food – but then I’m optimistic and sometimes foolhardy.  But foodstuffs like cans and fresh produce are strictly off-limits.  If you want to treat yourself, sure, but only buy as much as you can eat right now so you’re not carrying around superfluous water.  Go for sundries and nuts for snacking, granola for quick energy, dehydrated vegetables for regularity, and grains that require little cooking.  Cous cous, shredded black bean, textured vegetable protein, and oats are my current best friends, especially when I’m limited to stove cooking during fireban season.  Making a fire, even for cooking, is the most heat-score thing you can do when the ground is tinder just waiting for a stray spark, and you’re liable to get your ass kicked by the locals whose parents at one time saw their whole island home burned to a crisp.  Things like rice, quinoa, and larger beans are fire foods, though I could see you getting away with red lentils.  Just rinse your grains first. Rub them with your hand in some water and watch the milky, opaque liquid full of detergents that you won’t be passing through your gulliver.  Though high-end grains like amaranth and quinoa don’t really need a rinsing, which is good because they float when raw and is really a bitch to drain.  Flours are good as thickeners.  I mentioned chick pea flour, but corn flour is better than corn meal and I can’t wait to try coconut flour.  If you mix the corn and the garbonzo, you’ll get these tiny little dumplings that add a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ to your meals.  Let’s not forget pasta.  Always go with spaghettini because it packs densely and cooks quickly, but cous cous is really the pinnacle in these regards.  Density is important.  Look at all the wasted space between the fusilli or shell pasta that’s just pushing the centre of gravity further away from your spine.  And keep a malleable mind, it’s your best bet for finding new and better ways and things to eat.  I’m only now just discovering all the different brands of basic vitamin powders that taste great and deliver all I need and nothing I don’t.  Typical multivitamins just turn my pee dark yellow.  They had more of what I didn’t need than what I needed.  Apparently, it’s as basic as a few vitamins, some minerals and a great taste.  I don’t like to name names, but these guys deserve it.  Jaimeson’s “More than Just C,” “Sisu to go ester-C Energy Boost,” and my fave “Ener-C” have taken me to a whole new level of backcountry contentment.  “Emergen-C” is great aswell.  Last year though, these little packets of “Real Lemon” did just the trick and offer even further simplicity.  Nothing like a good dose of the most powerful antioxidant to combat all that campfire smoke you’ve been inhaling.  Another foodstuff that can really get you addicted in a good way is instant milk powder.  Vitamin A and D are important too, and Indians have it right worshipping cows.  Their milk is more than sustaining.  But on the flip side, my most cleansing times in the woods have been on a vegan diet.  Though his year I took along some dried sausage, and hold no regrets.  My advice goes further than what to do on a journey.  At home in preparation, a food dehydrator is a thirty-dollar investment into personalized, nutritionally dense food that can last months.  I had a vegetable mix of orange and red peppers, beats, and butternut squash.  A teaspoon would turn a litre of food into some fit for the gods.  A fruit mix of bananas, plantains, papaya, orange, lemon, pineapple, grapes, blueberries, and more would make an instant smoothie when added to powdered milk, and a wonderful pudding when combined with chia seeds.  All powderized of course, because packing for density and weight distribution would be a constant point to consider both before and during a journey.  I see so many newbies and well-seasoned veterans alike lacking basic understanding of biomechanics, structural integrity, and pack weight distribution.  It’s not their fault really.  They are victims of what the retailers tell them to buy and their idea of what is convenient.  The easiest way to gauge their level of expertise is where they have their tent.  Usually the heaviest and densest thing they have after food, it should be close to the spine and higher up.  If they’ve got it on the bottom back of the pack using the tension straps reserved for a light blue-foam bed-roll, well they’re literally holding themselves back from a comfortable hike.  The general rule is, heavier and more dense should be upper-shoulder and neck height, so as to get the weight above your spine, making a structurally sound biomechanical tower.  If you’ve got heavy stuff down by your ass and a foot farther back, you’re using your abs to constantly pull all that forward, which will burn up calories and eat away at the lumbar spine, the fulcrum of an inefficient lever.  I could draw you a picture to better illustrate, or accept the challenge of verbalizing my point.  I travel with en external frame pack with tension straps I sewed myself to get all that weight close to my back.  The frame is heavier, but offers support that modern internal frame packs just can’t compete with.  I can get heavy gear cinched a full foot over the top of my head to direct the weight through my spine.  The drawback being my centre of gravity is so high that the chances of taking a tumble are increased.  I have a balanced position though, as my Camp Trails Moose Pack is highly modifiable, and only costed me a mere hundred Canadian dollars.  Hats off to you guys, keeping tradition alive in a market saturated by pretty colours and just plain ignorance.  What a day for writing.  I love you.  Untill next time…