AquaDog and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I’ve taken to hiking and camping this past week with an individual that goes by “AquaDog”. We have similar and complementary interests that make conversation natural, hike at similar speeds (he can run away from me on the downhill but you best believe I’ll track him down when we start climbing), and just generally get along great.

On my Day 13 (he started a few days ahead of me), we were delayed at Winding Stair Gap by a controlled burn carried out by the National Park Service. We arrived at the gap around 9:30 AM EST, where we learned the trail had closed 30 minutes prior, the burn was due to begin at noon, and the expected timing of trail reopening was between 5:00 and 6:00PM. We were naturally bummed by this news, and so set about to plan how we’d spend our down time (we’d only hiked four miles that morning and hoped to get 15 in total before the day ended).

Winding Stair Gap is one of the main transit points for the town of Franklin, North Carolina (which is a wonderful mountain town if you’ve not been). As word of the burn reached town, big-hearted citizens of Franklin began driving up to Winding Stair to offer rides into town to stranded hikers. I’d already been to Franklin twice at this point (once overnight, once for an afternoon), and was too excited to hike for a third trip. AquaDog and Roly Poly (another member of our group at the time) decided they’d like to spend the day in Franklin rather than on the side of the road.

AquaDog returned some five hours later, with a beaming smile on his face, and a new backpack to boot. You see, he’d tried on a backpack in Franklin the day prior that’s been described as “the Ferrari of backpacks” – the Hyperlite Southwest. The previous day’s try on wasn’t enough to convince him to pull the trigger, but the fire delay was surely a sign that it was meant to be.

We hiked on once the trail was clear (or at least open, the smoke for the first four miles was a far cry from providing clarity), and all was well. Little did we know we were beginning AquaDog’s 24 hour stretch of a series of unfortunate events.

Early the next day, AquaDog (AD for short) asked if he could use my bidet, as he couldn’t quite reconcile the location of his toilet paper in his fancy new backpack. I was ecstatic to attempt to convert another paper pusher to the way of the bidet. Though I may not have convinced him yet, we were on our way.

This occurrence continued throughout the day. Not with toilet paper, but with other small items. “I can’t seem to find my rain jacket in this new backpack”, “have you seen my bear line? I don’t see it anywhere in here”. Clearly something was amiss, but AD wasn’t quite ready to admit it.

AquaDog had sent his old backpack home through the outfitter from which he purchased his new one. Finally, he gave them a call. They pried open the priority box with his old backpack – no dice. It contained his old backpack, but nothing else. Finally, the employee at the outfitter had another idea – he recalled AquaDog had tried on another size of the same backpack, and sure enough, a slew of his gear had been left in the try on model in the store.

AD isn’t one to get hung up on the negatives, though, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be the last hiccup of the day.

With some sense of resolution for his missing gear in the past tense, we pressed on. I couldn’t help but crack jokes at his expense (“no wonder your new backpack felt so light, you only put half your things in it!”, “yeah, we can hang both our bags on my line tonight, but I’m charging you a Snickers”). We pulled over later that same day to check out a side trail leading up to what appeared to be a peak view. AD wanted to stop and give some attention to a hot spot he’d been cultivating on his left foot.

Suddenly, I hear a bunch of commotion. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard AD curse, but it was clear he was upset by something. “What’s the matter – you good?” I asked, not seeing any visible wound or issue.

“I let Honey Goat borrow my super glue to fix his tent, and when he put it back, I guess he didn’t close it all the way.” AD held up his hand and the contents of his first aid kit at the same time, as they’d now been permanently joined together. Super glue had leaked all into his ditty bag, so all his small items were either stuck together, or obnoxiously sticky in the worst spots. Beyond that, he now had the task at hand of what to do with all his adhered belongings. Salvaging anything presented pretty serious risk of future stickiness, and he was now without a container to store all the small items he was carrying.

Similarly to the gear woes, AD never let me see him sweat. He laughed it off and we kept walking.

I learned two things from AD that day:

1. There are a whole universe of things that will happen to you that are outside your control. What you can control, however, is your attitude, and how you choose to deal with them.
2. Super glue should be more or less treated as a one time use item. Even if you do close it correctly, getting it to work the next time once it’s open is no small feat.

Cheers,

Billy