Generic COP Trip
By Glenn Beachy
At the start of group trips with strangers, we are quiet, almost morose. We were each up late packing, short on sleep, worried we'd left behind an important and necessary item: extra batteries for flashlight? Extra film for camera? CAMERA! Crap... oh well, maybe someone will make octoprints.
We're thinking we're probably going to get soaked with just a tarp in those winds we heard about. We size up the other trippers. We know one or two. They're ok. But that one guy's gear looks too new. Has he used it before? We hope we don't have to carry anybody. We hope WE are not the ones holding back the rest of the group. The humiliation at being hauled out is far worse than the frustration of hauling someone else's sorry butt out. But we'll see, it's a four day trip.
It's very early in the morning and some of the caffeine addicts have yet to get their fixes. Ahh-Tim Hortons ahead! We pull in, pile out, climbing over fanny packs; Nalgene water bottles rolling out onto the parking lot. We line up, talking quietly. No complaints yet. Tentatively we start to get to know each other, the singles curious about who's attached.
We load back up, supplied with pastries and hot drinks; occasional laughs are heard or, better yet, a giggle. Is that some sun peeking through? During the next 5 hours we doze a bit. The youngest tripper hangs over the back of the seat in front of her asking lots of questions of the leader. We stop once to relieve ourselves and buy lottery tickets.
At the parking area we pile out again and are immediately taken into little worlds of out own, focused on our own gear, getting it sorted and repacked, deciding what to leave behind, looking up to guess on the weather. Will we really need that long underwear? Where's my raingear? Whew, there it is!
We are finally ready to set off, put in or saddle up. As it turns out, no one needs to be carried. One just needs a little encouragement. We help each other along; we share some experiences as close as family. We see some scenery so good that we feel sorry for tourists who never venture beyond highway pulloffs. We recommend books to each other. We complain about the food we brought ourselves as we smell others' savory concoctions. We start off like sheep, needing constant guidance. Soon, we're scoffing at other's ability to make fires. We offer unrequested tips on everything from diets to defragging hard drives to raising children. We roll eyes. Occasionally, we find ourselves alone sitting quietly before a scene so beautiful and perfect that we want to fix it permanently in our minds, to come back to during stressful times back home.
The days pass quickly. There comes a point when we realize we only have 24 hours left and then we'll be heading home. We promise to return to do a longer trip. One week would be good, two weeks better. We really want to take a month but that is beyond our work-a-day comprehension. A dream we can't even express to ourselves, like an Islamic heaven. We might be a little quieter that last day, reflecting on the trip or (against our own wishes) planning the next week at work. The leader still looks a little worried - no catastrophes yet but there's still time. We drift back to the cars and drive through the evening hours. Some doze again. We're satisfied - for now.
Glenn Beachy is the COP Vice-President and the Winter Activities Chair.