This was supposed to be a bunch of pictures of trees, creek, mountains, and me enjoying a steaming cup of green tea by my new tent because even I’m not immune to selfies. Now, I have not been backpacking in a long time. Let’s just say it’s not someone’s idea of a couple’s weekend away. So I put that on the back burner for a bit. But I live amongst the best hiking in the country, shame to only see what’s within walking distance of the parking lot. But I don’t even own a backpack anymore (well, didn’t), and if I did it would be old-school external frame. We do, however, have a lot of other “backpacking” gear, because lightweight gear that packs small works well on a motorcycle, too. Unfortunately, a new tent was in order because the Hilleberg model of Her Highness’ Mobile Palace weighs in at nine pounds. That’s a bit much without 125 horsepower pulling it. I already have a one-person tent I bought at REI years ago for solo motorcycling, but it was only intended as a disposable experiment. I love ya, REI Passage 1, but I’m not spending a rainy Pacific Northwest weekend in you. So, in the spirit of “stick to what you know works”, back to Hilleberg. Yeah, the price tags on their shit is eye-watering, but if you use it often you’ll regret not a dime spent. I ordered it online, and wondered if I couldn’t just walk down the hill to their U. S. office and pick it up. But, nah, probably ships out of some warehouse in Estonia; they just do paperwork down the hill. That afternoon I get an email from FedEx telling me I’m getting a package from Redmond. Hilleberg said later that, yeah, next time I want to drop a grand on a tent, just walk on in. Assuming our current tents don’t outlive me, I’ll make a note of it.
I renewed some of our cook gear to something lighter and smaller, and was pretty much all set. Test-packed it all several times, and declared it ready. The day before departure, I head to work on the scooter as usual. But autumn brings autumn leaves, and under those autumn leaves hide manhole covers that are way to high above the pavement. And I hit one of those at about 25mph, then went skidding down the pavement. Helmet was busted, which might explain why I had no idea how to get to work. Well, then maybe I should go home. Hmm, I don’t know how to get home, either. So this is how dementia patients are found wandering I guess. Pretty weird feeling not knowing how to get where you need to go. But I assumed that I wanted to travel in the direction the scooter was currently pointing, so I decided to keep going to the next intersection, and if it doesn’t come to me by then I’ll pull over and figure out what Plan B looks like. Hopefully I could still operate a phone well enough to use a map program.
It must of dawned on me how to get to work, because I got there. No idea how, exactly. I went down later to check the scooter, and I realized, “I don’t remember parking it here. Or parking it at all.” But one team meeting later, and after reviewing my notes, the short-term memory loss (or, my guess short-term don’t-make-any-memories) was gone; I remembered the meeting fine. But with some giant knots on my left side, and a very sore shoulder, I decided to bag the idea of hiking up a mountain with a 25 lb. pack on my sore shoulder. Backpacking pics next time. In the mean time, enjoy crash porn.