I remember how I felt last year when we returned from the Boundary Waters, why should it be any better this year? Feels like I've been pummeled with a sand-filled sock and am too tired to care. Can't even squeak out a "that the best you can do?"
We ate well, drank enough water, got enough rest, bugs weren't bad, only did two demanding portages; what could it be? Maybe the beauty overwhelmed me? Or the clean air and water? 'Spose it could be that I'm 68 but I doubt it. Last night I had to use a lighter fork and knife when I ate dinner. Our usual stainless felt like dumbbells. Could be my problem up north was choice of socks. I've gotten used to short cotton ones and the pairs I wore in the BWCA were full length and fairly heavy. That half ounce no doubt was night and day. Lucky I'm still alive.
Once again a four day trip took eight. Planning, gathering and packing sucked up two, travel one, cleanup one and the canoe trip four. Toughest part is the cleanup. Not that I mind the work. After all, it's necessary. Keeps stuff from rotting. Glass half full person would say drying, organizing and putting camping gear away is actually preparation for next year's trip. Interesting I just wrote that. Till my fingers started pecking away I'd never given maintenance a positive spin. Kind of scary, seeing as how I'm a 'glass is always full unless you're in a complete vacuum' kinda guy. Maybe it'd be best if you forget I ever wrote the above. Go with the idea cleanup was pure misery.
Regardless, the trip is done. All that remains is the writing (and editing and trying like hell to remember what Brian and I did. Best part is knowing I can fill in the blanks with anything that comes to mind. Things like that make me a happy camper, wilderness style).