I’m sitting in my storage space on a rainy San Francisco afternoon going through my 2004 resupply boxes that never got sent and my send-back boxes from the trail.
I’m breaking apart the boxes to inventory what I’ve got, throw out what I can’t use or what’s gone bad and give away what I won’t eat. In a half-circle around me are paper shopping bags, left to right: breakfast, lunch, dinner, jerkey & other yummy snacks, nuts & fruit, other (tuna, mustard, dressing, etc.) and bars.
I pull out the fuel, maps, mailing labels, box reminders, vitamin packets, batteries, and other stuff and make other piles.
Something that’s in my boxes and then in ziplocs has liquified. It’s really gross and looks like soy sauce. [Matt, Sandy and I later decided it was shallots.]
Also in the boxes are notes that Tommy put in them while helping me pack them in June of 2004. Usually there’s a drawing with the note, and usually it’s lewd. Why he thought this thru-hiker needed a reminder of how horny I am when I hike, I don’t know. Today, the attention and love bring a smile to my face.
It’s now an hour later. Rush hour is crowding the Bay Bridge, so I’m here for a while. All the boxes are empty and sorted. I can’t believe I’m going to eat some of this stuff. I have too much food given what’s good from 2004 and what I’ve already bought. I will never want to eat Fish Brothers Salmon jerkey again, although I love it.
Digging through all the stuff: maps, food, gear, clothes, oh yeah, and all the stuff of my life in boxes and stacked.