I first saw him near Neels Gap, sitting barefoot on the steps outside Mountain Crossings like he’d been born there, smiling at nothing, sipping Gatorade like it was champagne. His pack was a joke. I clocked it at twenty-five pounds, minimum, probably with a camp chair and full-size toothbrush inside. And I was right. Later, […]
The Purist vs. The Slackpacker
- Post author By cleanshave
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- Categories In Fiction, Hiker Trash Romance, Short Story
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