What do you carry in your bag?

Hello! My first post of the 2018 Season! Good to be back At the Top, and at the keyboard to reflect on my happy place.

Yesterday I joined a new group of volunteers who had come for a day of training with the National Park Service, all eager and bright-eyed to learn about Cape Lookout National Seashore (or CALO in the NPS world), Core Banks, Shack and the ponies, and the Lighthouse. There were a few of us there returning to serve at CALO, and we enjoyed sharing our experiences with them and watching them ooh and ahh over this beautiful, wild spit of land.

At some point in the afternoon, the conversation got tactical, and someone asked me, “what do you carry in your bag?”

At the beginning of the season last year, I purchased a sturdy backpack, made for a woman of my size (5’2″)… a serious, no nonsense rig, with an internal frame and lots of pockets and loops to lash things. It was just a shade off NPS green and lacked the banged up charm of the Ranger’s standard-issue camo backpacks, made official with the mark of a black Sharpie: LH-Ops. But, it became my constant companion and I can’t wait to put her back in service.

You pack in and pack out at the Cape–there is no “they” to cart off your trash, and I’ve always been drawn to endeavors which called upon some measure of self-reliance. If you can’t tote it out (and on your back all day in the hot sun and shifting sand, up and down 207 steps to The Top, two, or sometimes three, times a day), then don’t tote it in. I learned quickly what I really needed, and what I didn’t. A life lesson I woke up reflecting on this morning.

What do I really need? And what’s just extra weight in my pack, pulling me down, no longer serving me, and making me work harder than necessary?

It reminded me of preparing for another summer, twenty-five years ago. I left NC after exams in May to drive cross-country for an internship in Los Angeles in my Geo Metro, a 5-speed, 2-door mini-car. As a student I lived on very little money, so there would be no buying more stuff when I arrived.

What did I really need? What would be extra weight in my little aqua roller-skate?

I ultimately set my carefully crafted packing list aside and went with a one of everything approach: one plate, one bowl, one fork, one cup, one sensible kitchen knife, a fry pan and a sauce pan. I was young and flying solo.

When I moved back home to Carteret County six years ago, I had amicably but sadly left a 17-year marriage to my best friend. I moved into a small studio apartment and went with a two of everything approach: two plates, two bowls, two cups, two sets of utensils… my heart was broken but also open to the possibility of loving again.

As I went through last year’s backpack to sort and repack for this year, I once again asked myself, OK… knowing what I know now, what do I really need?

Water and a refillable bottle. NPS-issued first aid kit. Epi-pen for a bee allergy. Ziplock bag for my cell. The Swiss Army knife I’ve had since college and my flashlight from Burning Man. Snacks that don’t melt or emit odors (NO tuna, no chocolate). Sunscreen and bug spray. A sturdy lip balm (NO girly lipstick). Extra hair tie. Carabiners.

My laminated nature cards about shells and birds and trees that I like to pull out for impromptu teaching if the opportunity strikes. A pen and small notebook for the moments of inspiration (and there are many).

Rain gear, although the Rangers last year used to tease me, saying, uh oh… Michelle has pulled out her raincoat, we’re jinxed now! It’s a lovely thing to tuck into a tribe that jokes together, to earn a nickname, to know that someone has your back, and that you have theirs.

And so I set off with my pack once again, with a sense of adventure, a love for the Cape and the water, a healthy respect for weather, and a smile. That is all that I need.