Lost Gloves

Most likely, I was removing layers. I was a little too hot and had to pull off my waterproof shell, take off my fleece inner jacket, roll it up, cinch the stuff sack and stow it in the backpack, and then put the shell back on before I got cold again. I think I got that right. I just missed one detail.

Oxygen scarcity is deceptive. We think we're managing just fine. But sometimes, in the altitude, little things get missed.

Somewhere out there, I lost a well-worn, well-loved pair of gloves. They weren't even gloves, really, just glove liners--black, lightweight, just warm enough to ward off the chill. It's hard to explain how much they meant to me. They smelled of deep woods, rock and snow, and I was happy every time I wore them.

I'd had this particular pair for over 15 years. That's a lot of miles, a lot of elevation, a lot of effort, and a lot of exploring: the Cascades, the Wallowas, the Sawtooths, the Rockies, the Sierra Nevada...

So if I had to lose these gloves, it was only fitting that they end up beside a rocky trail, at about 15,000' in the Tibetan Autonomous Region. Back when I bought them, I had only dreamed of such places.

I'll be back--if not to this trail, then to another one. As usual, I'll bring a spare pair of gloves. That old pair is probably buried under heavy snow by now.