I usually write about how the land produces food, how the food we choose affects our lives as individuals and as fellow biospherians, or how excited I am about nerdy food system things.
This week, the connections between land, food, and life take a new configuration: I recently backpacked across a section of land by the North Shore of Minnesota with what I thought was adequate food and supplies to sustain life for a weekend. At the trail head, I was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
 |
| Much akimbo very backpack wow Photo credit: Arthur Aaberg |
Three-quarters through a supper of seriously salty vegetarian chili reconstituted with melted snow (fingertips shoved under the bowl to capture fleeing warmth), I asked my trail buddy how he would feel if we cut the trip short.Visions of pancake breakfasts and mini sardine pizzas had darkened and slipped away as quickly as the southern sun below the piney horizon and the circulation from my becottoned fingers.
I knew I needed to avoid cotton, but didn't actually do it. Never again.
Upside: No bug bites.
Downside: Frostbite.
Upside: Your food won't spoil.
Downside: Your food will freeze.
Upside: Snow-covered paths are easier on your feet.
Downside: You don't know what that snow is covering.
Upside: No other people around to distract you from the wilderness.
Downside: No other people around to extract you from the wilderness.
Did I miss an upside? A downside? Let me know.
