I’d pitched the tent on onerous rock not too removed from the lake, and I felt like I used to be awake all evening. However I misplaced hours, so should have slept. Huge stars and fingernail moon seemed very shut. I left the door of the tent-tarp open for the primary time.
Within the morning, I had the selection of climbing in damp gear from the lake swim, or my sacredly clear sleep leggings. I selected the previous and it was all bone dry inside about an hour on the path.
Climbing forces instant selections about issues. One among my flip-flops had torn aside on the straps. I spent a while sitting on the lakeside stitching it again collectively. Needle to string to sole to strap, repeat. Issues need to be both mounted now and returned to helpful service, or discarded – there’s no house for damaged tasks, no time to procrastinate on sorting the factor out another day.
I used the remaining gray thread to sew up a gap in my bug tent – stitching a wavy ventricular-tachycardia rhythm earlier than pulling it tight for asystole, tying a reef knot. Reducing off the tail finish of the thread with my miniature trauma shears.
I’ve been fascinated by the estrangements in my life on this path. There aren’t a lot of them, however I’m questioning whether or not these are conditions to be stitched again collectively and strapped onto the pack, or just let go.
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