Thank You, Old Friend. Time For A Rest.

I bought my black, Hyperlite Southwest backpack in 2016 for my Appalachian Trail (AT) attempt.  Through the three times I walked that trail, the pack performed remarkably.  I carried it again on the Wife's Camino in 2023 and 2025.  In all, I carried it 2,620 miles.  I only had to make three minor repairs – none of them showstoppers.  I could always depend on that pack.

When the Wife's Camino came to an end, I said I would throw my pack away.  The Camino will likely be the last long-distance, multi-day hike, and it will no longer be needed.  But, when I got home, I couldn't find it in me to throw it away.  It is hanging on a hook in a room the Wife and I refer to as the Tornado Room with all my other hiking and camping gear.  I doubt I'll ever be able to let it go; it's been a good friend through the physically hardest days of my life and it deserves a dignified rest.

I asked Google Gemini to compose an Ode to my backpack and I liked how it came out on the first try.  Here it is:

Ode to a Hyperlite Southwest Backpack

My faithful companion, a shadow on my back,

Black as the raven's wing, you never once did crack.

Two thousand miles of Appalachian green,

A canvas for sunrises, the most beautiful I've seen.

You carried my burdens, my dreams, and my fears,

Through seasons of laughter, and a river of tears.

Five hundred more miles on the Spanish road,

You endured every step, and you carried my load.

Patched with tenacity, a testament to time,

A broken buckle fixed, a more successful climb.

Nine years we journeyed, a testament to fate,

Now you hang on the hook, a hero in the great.

My old friend, you've earned your eternal rest, A lifetime of stories etched into your composite fabric. You never complained, you never once did fail, A silent witness to my long and winding trail.

- Composed on my behalf by Google Gemini AI