Monday, January 29, 2018

A COAT FOR EVERY TWO DEGREES (Confessions of a Photographer's Wife)



Trekking poles, hiking boots, water bottle, backpack, snacks, protein bars, rain gear, rain hat, layers for warmth, blister pads, TP, duct tape, plastic bags, ground pad, first aid kit… AND WHAT ELSE SHALL I BRING?
My husband, Jim, and I are going out to take pictures today.  Doesn’t sound like much of a challenge, until I realize that we’ve got to hike in… it might rain… there’s always the danger of hypothermia… we might get hungry… what if I fall… and what might the temperature be?
Jim is one of those “be prepared” kinds of guys.  In his younger years, he was manager of the original REI store, and it seems that’s when he developed his passion for having a coat for every two degrees of temperature change.  He’s always had more clothes than I do, but his coat closet is very nearly a store in its variety and choices, so he’s always prepared.
This trip involves hiking to a remote beach, and some pretty steep slopes.  Now I’m pretty adventurous, and usually willing to try most anything, but I draw the line at jumars, ice axes, and pitons.  Jim’s past involved guiding on Mt. Rainier, so nothing scares him.  Consequently, it never seems to occur to him that a slope that looks easy to him might be totally daunting to me.  And let’s not forget that I’ll be expected to carry the tripod.
We begin the first part of our trek with a medium-weight jacket.  This place is so beautiful, with huge Douglas Fir and Western Red Cedars, carpets of moss, silver ferns, and many tiny wild flowers everywhere I look.  Jim’s frequent stops to take shots hardly interrupt my reverie as I allow myself to imagine living in such a quiet, lovely setting.  We’re gradually gaining in altitude, but it’s pretty benign as slopes go. 
It’s all within my comfort zone until we come to the edge of a drop-off which looks to me like the Wickersham Wall of Denali.  It occurs to me that Jim might be able to use this tripod and a rope to lower me down, but no – he says he believes in me and I can do it.  I hate it when he pulls the “competent” card on me.  It’s not so much that the backpack is heavy and pulls me slightly off balance, or that my hiking boots are rubbing a small blister on my heel, or that carrying two trekking poles and one tripod is a bit awkward, or that my Medium Jacket is getting a bit warm, but that I have a fear of falling headlong down a steep slope while screaming all the way like the little girl I used to be.
Now my husband isn’t one to be unsympathetic, so he offers to take the tripod off my hands so I can use both poles, and slowly, unsurely, step by tiny step, I make my way down this Everest to the bottom.  When I realize I’ve survived, I have time to take only one large breath and realize that I’m sweating like a pig, before my intrepid spouse spots the perfect site to set up the ubiquitous tripod, pull out the extra camera with the slightly longer lens, and hand it to me so I’m ready to respond when he needs it.
First things first, and I strip down to my shirt and stuff it into my backpack.  It never occurs to me that I might actually get chilled when I cool down or that there’s a breeze blowing that threatens to turn into a gale.
Suddenly, and from out of nowhere, my ever-prepared camera-toting spouse appears with a slightly heavier than medium jacket, with wind stopping properties.  As he snuggles me into its warmth, I realize that carrying the tripod has its rewards.

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