Brother loses backpacking virginity

“Check the fuel, check and see if we packed the jet boil fuel,” Robert commanded to me for the third time.  He was nervous.  There was no going back… 

 The trail head merged into two dividing rocky roads,; one that looped back to the parking lot filled with camera ready tourists and walking distance from a pizza parlor; the other: winded straight ahead jutting along thousands of miles of sky-scraper high jagged peaks of the Canadian Rockies dipping into dark forests and climbing up to vast mountain passes.

 Hesitation was no longer an option.  We were committing ourselves to this journey with the little resources stuffed in our backpacks.

“For the third time, we have enough fuel…But we might’ve forgotten the stove.” I replied sarcastically with a smirk across my face.  And so we were off; Robert’s backpacking virginity was about to be lost and the pre-feelings of nervous excitement had triggered an addiction.

In a week, we hiked over five mountain passes, gaining over 2000 ft of elevation; we scurried through hundreds of patches of dense, bear-scat infested forests for 17 km; we awoke to frosty toes and the thumping sound of a woodpecker’s beak drilling through hollow birch, we stared starvation in the eyes; but most importantly, we formed a brotherhood that would last forever.