Night 4: Ecosystem

It was a great sleep. I figured out putting my “pillow” inside the sleeping bag hood. I had to wrestle my way back out of the bag to pee in the dark, feeling resentful until I saw the canopy of blatant, brilliant stars. 

There’s a card game called Ecosystem my sister gave our family. Players win by assembling the longest stream, the most connected meadow cards, placing trout and dragonflies next to water, assembling the largest wolf pack. I’d hurried through this real-life ecosystem, worried about making miles. 

Things from my musician life carried over to the trail. I figured out how to fly in the rubber hose of my water bladder over my left shoulder, same as I would with a vocal mic at the drumkit. My backpack is essentially the “bag of death” that carries my metal hardware – cymbal and snare stands – that I occasionally trim down to the bare minimum weight. Setting up and striking camp is load in and out from a venue, complete with final stage sweeps for forgotten familiars.

Hiking has some of the daily rhythm of a tour. Booking accommodation last-minute based on where you are and what you need. I always thought of touring as a big (inter)national trust fall into the unknown, and hiking is the same. Only smellier.