Where the Trail Ends

There’s a certain joy in using gear that’s already lived a life. Take my backpack, for example; it’s been with me since I was a kid. My mom got it for me from Bilka, a grocery store back in Denmark, around the year 2000. That following year, we traveled to Portugal’s Algarve coast and later visited my grandmother in Greenland, and at each place, I picked up a patch that we later sewed onto the bag. A few camping trips as a young Boy Scout later, and it mostly sat in storage, well, until last week when it came back out.

I could’ve bought a modern hiking backpack but I really didn’t need to. This old, firetruck-red backpack was big enough to carry a tent, sleeping bag, food, water, and a few days’ worth of gear. It wasn’t the lightest pack on the trail, and I discovered that breathability was not a feature back then, but you know what, it still worked fine.

The three of us started on the Heather–Maple Pass Loop in Washington’s North Cascades National Park, each carrying roughly 35 pounds/15 kilos. About halfway through the loop, we left the main trail and went into the wilderness. After a few steep climbs and descents, Dave came across a valley that felt like the last speck on Earth yet to be touched by man, or at least was until us, the three goofballs showed up.

It was as quiet as it was perfect.