This being our first trip away in a long time it has been much anticipated, much planned for and now we rumble along the highway in a loaded toad to our rendez-vous with the ACBC. Apart from our seating space in the front of the toad, there is no visible floorspace in the back of our mini RV for it is piled high with rucsacs, boots, food supplies and of course, beer, wine and bottle opener. We were working well into the late evening last night - packing, remembering better stuff, more comfy stuff, lighter stuff, unpacking and repacking.
I put on my 2-year-old-but still-new boots and ensured my crampons were adjusted to fit. I had to do this outside since wooden floors and crampoons do not mix. I got some very confused looks from people passing with a caravan as I walked up and down in the dirt to check they're not going to fall off on me on any ice we come across. My expression back was one of innocence - I'm aerating the soil as I looked contentedly at the little rectangular slots I'd made. Front point crampons in Naramata - whatever next.
My next project was to uncover my sleeping bag which I only did eventually at 9 o'clock this morning. For lack of a stuff sac, I'd confined it to a garbage bag under some curtains in a box.
Now Slaughterpuss is home alone for the weekend with a massive pile of food and a sink full of water to quench her thirst. She watched all of this unfold with an expression of, "you're going to throw me out any minute". She's probably still sat on the bed pretending she's not there. What a lucky cat.
