The 50-pound pack

My very own Woodzig folding saw

The stuff I pulled from the dusty camping boxes was right off Cheryl Strayed's gear list:

• A candle lantern with attachable parabolic reflecting mirror, extra candles and felt carrying case.
• A Lucite camera case with metal latch and rubber gasket guaranteed waterproof to 30 feet.
• A pair grooved plastic cereal bowls
  
• A pair of sturdy 8-inch divided plates designed to minimize space in a 800 liter pack.
• A double-walled Lucite REI cup.
• A 3-pot stainless cook set with aluminum gripper.
• A Teflon frying pan with a foldable handle.
• A Woodzig folding saw
• An pair of 1-gallon vinyl sinks
• An 8-inch skinning knife

The clincher was the folding saw—the very same that Strayed carried as the iconic symbol of the disastrous state of her life. Once shed, she was on the road to recovery.

I'm troubled. I remember using the collapsible saw in the Golden Trout Wilderness. In practice it was useless, but it was neat and the 5 ounces of heft never crossed my mind. Camping was about preparedness, tools and little luxuries. Packs were heavy. That Woodzig folding saw fit in my Kelty pack. It didn't seem wrong. You got in shape and carried what you could.

Vinyl sink weighing in

Times have changed. Twenty-five years ago, these were treasures. During those years at Solar System Labs, my treasures had grown old and irrelevant. Am I to be a slave to fashion? Am I to cling to the neat and useless? What would I carry on my journey?

I thought of Strayed. She started her journey with an oppressive physical and metaphoric weight. Old things, like old habits of mind, are like that. Letting go isn't easy. I know I must be draconian.  I can give up the saw.  I can buy a new tent, sleeping bag,  pad and stove. I could get my base weight down to 30 pounds. But giving up that vinyl sink will be tough. It is just 2 ounces.