As the packs were being thrown into the back of the minivan and the GPS was being set to the Subway with the smallest detour from our three-hour drive, I went over the packing list again in my mind, sure we had forgotten something. Tent…check. Sleeping bags…check. Food…check.
After months of planning meticulously crafted lists, nights of tester freeze-dried food dinners, and the seven trips we’d taken to our local REI, we were finally on the road to our first backpacking trip.
We hiked half a mile through the dark woods, then another quarter mile on wet sand, the moon lighting our path. We had to pick a spot to camp at least 200 feet away from Lake Michigan, then set up our tents, sleeping pads, and sleeping bags. Finally, we hung our food over the nearest tree.
Then I curled up in my sleeping bag, listened to the sounds of the lake and drifted off.
In the morning, I peel open my eyes to see the sun rising up the canvas of our tent. The leaves shake overhead as I pull my beanie tighter over my head to fight off the chilly morning breeze. My mom is lying awake next to me and sits up when I do. We pull on our fleeces and clamber out of the tent. I take the food bag down from the tree and it dawns on me that what we have in a bag, hanging on a tree, is the only food in a three-mile radius. We are literally on our own.
After taking the bag down, I’m thirsty and grab a water bottle from my pack (a huge REI water bottle, of course, purchased two days before our trip). Well, turns out we were a little thirstier than expected from the hike in, and there’s barely any water left in my bottle.
For my whole life, what comes next is I grab another bottle from a pack, or turn on a tap. Even when we’re car camping there is a well to pump from. But now, I have to go to the source: the lake. And not just any lake. This is the lake, Lake Michigan, a lake that is part of the biggest freshwater system in the world. And I have a filter. I can get my own water.
I know exactly where the water filter is in my pack. I grab it and run down to the water’s edge. Throwing the nozzle in the lake, feeling icy water nipping my ankles, I pump and pump until the bottle is full of the freshest, clearest water I’ve ever tasted.
As I take that first drink, I realize that I have the freedom to be exactly what I need for myself. I am all that I need to survive. For the first time in my life, I can provide for myself everything that I need.
Late on Sunday after we get home, after the packs have been emptied on the living floor, stuff sorted into piles and put away in various places throughout the house, I grab the packing list I left on the kitchen table on Friday. Edits accumulating in my mind over the weekend need to be recorded, so I donât forget them before the backpacking trip I already am planning for spring. As I plop down on a kitchen stool to get to work, I take a sip from my REI water bottle, leftover Lake Michigan water giving me the power to do anything.
