Take flight, my Osprey

 

Would you like to swing on a star?
Carry moonbeams home in a jar?
And be better off than you are?
Or would you rather be a mule?

- Swinging on a Star by Johnny Burke

If God wanted us to be pack mules, we’d have four feet and a tail to swat flies.

We don’t, of course. But I still felt a bit muleish during our test hike on that recent Saturday. Not stubborn. Just burdened by a 25-pound load of miscellaneous stuff strapped to my waist and shoulders as we hiked a portion of the North Country Trail.

The sign that inspired.

It had been 45 years since I’d donned a backpack. Not the flimsy daypacks we all have in our closets. Or even the stouter packs – the kind poor students must carry as they haul half a library’s holdings from class to class.

I’ve worn both kinds, a number of times, since I was 15.

But this was a backpack in the traditional, but also contemporary, sense – an Osprey Aether 70. A state-of-the-art model with removable hip belt, dual density foam harness, spacer-mesh airflow that wicks away moisture on warm days, and a break-away lumbar pack. Interior frame, of course.

It can haul 50 pounds … probably more … and do so, says the company, in perfect comfort.

The pack’s product description makes the nerd inside me blush.

“Suspension features a peripheral frame, a smooth, spacer-mesh back panel, single stay and an internal framesheet.”

Yep, you bet.

“Compression system with 3 horizontal straps and 1 internal strap lets you securely compress the contents whether full or nearly empty, and without sag or load distortion.”

Oh yeah ... nice.

“Hydration-compatible design features reservoir sleeve and dual drink tube exit ports for on-the-go hydration (reservoir sold separately).”

Atta boy! Is there more?!

“The Osprey Aether 70 pack shaves weight yet remains tough with a 210-denier double-ripstop nylon and 500-denier plain-weave oxford nylon bottom.”

Oh my gracious me!! My world for a plain-weave oxford nylon bottom.

Just $289.95, plus shipping.

“You know, Bill,” I yelled behind me as we walked, “I used to marvel at my backpack on my long hikes in Boy Scouts. It would squeak, but the sound comforted me.”

My Aether 70 and Oboz boots.

Bill, my hiking partner, chuckled. His pack was squeaking a bit, like a metronome with a bird-like peep rather than the usually soft tick-tock of shifting weight.

It was causing him consternation; he wondered if it bothered me, too.

“I found comfort,” I continued in response, “because I knew that everything I needed to survive and prosper on the trail was across my shoulders.”

Profound, I thought. Existential even. What’s the inconvenience of a small squeak when the tradeoff is total self-reliance?

Bill chuckled again. I'm sure he wanted to trade my jibber-jabber for a can of WD-40.

Bill and I will soon be walking more than 160 miles along the southern shores of Lake Superior. Ten days on the trail, planned for early October. A few overnights in motels, but mostly camping on the trail and relying on what we’re carrying.

The North Country Trail twists and turns its way across seven states, from New York to North Dakota. Some of its prettiest stretches are here in Michigan. It enters from Ohio near the town of Pittsford, at Michigan’s southeast corner. It follows a zigzag path north, across the Mackinaw Bridge, then along the northern edge of the Upper Peninsula.

It exits for Wisconsin near the community of Ironwood, at Michigan’s farthest northwest corner.

The path snakes immediately southeast and east of Traverse City, where I live. Which is what sparked my interest. Last year, Cindy and I were walking the trails of the nearby Sand Lakes Quiet Area; the NCT crosses through its middle. And there was a large, wooden sign at a key junction, with arrows pointing left and right:

NORTH COUNTRY TRAIL

“2400 mi. NEW YORK/NORTH DAKOTA 2100 mi.”

And that’s when my imagination soared. It was such a powerful thing to know that we could simply walk to the right and we’d eventually land in North Dakota, or go left and stride into the Empire State.

And not by highway, of course. But by a wooded, sometimes rugged, usually narrow trail that snakes through national and state forests, along rivers and lakeshores, over mountains and across immense, flat prairies.

So, yes, the decision to turn right or left would have been a simple one. But not simple in its consequences … more than 4,000 miles of complex terrain to choose from.

We’ve all heard of the book Wild by Cheryl Strayed and the movie with Reese Witherspoon that followed. Backpacking has surged because of it.

Cindy knows two folks here in Traverse City who are now hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, the same, unforgiving path that Strayed used to cast out her demons. We’re unsure how they’re doing week to week because it's hard to communicate out.

We also know of two guys from T.C. who vowed to walk the entire NCT this spring, summer and fall. They started in snow-clad North Dakota knowing they were on a race before heavy snows would fall later this year in New York.

They gave up in Minnesota. The math had been easy. To complete the entire trail, they would need to average 25 miles of walking per day packing 50 pounds of supplies each. Over seven months.

The work was not. How much is 50 pounds? Go to Ask.com to get an answer:

“Examples of items that weigh 50 pounds: a small bale of hay or a border collie and house cat combined; 5 medium-sized bowling balls; 5 house cats; two car tires and a large bag of sugar; a microwave oven and two bags of flour; 10 average sized table lamps and 10 Chihuahua dogs.”

So, a lot.

One of the guys was interviewed on the local radio after his return.

“Why’d you stop?”

“Depression,” he said, his voice flat.

“Would you do it again?”

“Not sure … (pause) … probably not.”

I can imagine why. The endless pace, the five-bowling-ball loads. Clouds of mosquitoes as thick as morning fog. Black flies that rip your skin and your soul. Freezing nights. Scorching days.

Not that what Bill and I are planning even compares to their efforts, or that of Strayed. For starters, neither of us is using the trail to cast out demons. Don’t think, so, anyway. And we’re planning to conquer

Witherspoon as Strayed.

just 167 miles, much of which is along a beautiful Great Lake. So “conquer” seems overstated.

Sure, we might encounter snow in early October. I’m betting, too, that we’ll swat at some die-hard mosquitoes and black flies. And it’ll be bow-hunting season, so there’s a risk of wayward arrows. Oh ... and bears also are on the move then, packing in pounds before hibernation.

But it won't be like Strayed's trek, or the T.C. pair's. Not close.

Sure, we'll need to feel comfortable with 30 or 35 pounds on our backs, not just 25.

But Bill’s there already. He walked with ease that day. 

I’m not. Those 25 pounds felt mighty heavy on my hips. Just two and a half bowling balls. 

Wimp.

So it’s not a bad thing right now to want to feel muleish.

A stout mule can carry, with ease, 200 pounds. I guarantee there will be times in October, when the load seems heaviest and bugs the thickest, that I’ll yearn to be a mule ... to have four legs and a tail that swats.

And why not? 

Heck, you can swing on a star anytime. 

Next: My marvelous, magical, new tent.