Embedded

One summer morning in the Elk Mountains of Colorado, drinking cup after cup of thick instant coffee, biding my time because the trail would still be there in the afternoon, my eyes fell on my old Dana Design backpack leaning against a nearby spruce and I was suddenly overcome with the memory of a trip to New Zealand.

There I was, transported back to the southernmost tip of the South Island, spending a fitful night on a creaky wharf, the pack for a pillow. Next morning a ferry carried me farther south, across an hour of rowdy gray chop to Stewart Island’s sole village. Hips pinched and shoulders burning, the Dana loaded with supplies for a two-week trek, I trudged into the wilderness.

The first afternoon, a trio of Israeli dudes finishing their hike got me stoned on a bluff. The first evening, while prepping dinner, I realized my spoon was lost, gone, nowhere to be found, and in a stroke of what seemed