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| If you take Jester hiking, you're going to have to put up with a certain amount of bunny ear. Metaphorically speaking. |
If you’re considering taking Jester on a trip, follow this advice to ensure you continue to love backpacking.
Don’t be a teacher or a guide. Be a hiking partner. A really, really tolerant hiking partner.
Be on your best, super-considerate behavior to make sure Jester has a good time, and also because you are not a jerk. But curb your instinct to do everything for him, because he’s lazy and will totally let you. And that will eventually annoy the crap out of you, making it difficult to be super-considerate.
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| Don't buy his argument that the silly things he's carrying are the lightest versions of those silly things. |
Help Jester pack. Definitely. If he packs his own backpack he’ll end up bringing half of the stuff he needs and all of the stuff he doesn’t. While making sure he’s carrying what he should you can screen out the random extras -- on past unsupervised hikes he’s brought a kite, a Twister mat, various stuffed animals, bunny ears, water guns, glow sticks, Hawaiian shirts, a frisbee, and ridiculous amounts of camera equipment. Including a tripod. He once carried an actual license plate he found for about 200 miles. And let’s not even discuss the 4.25 pound Wizard statue.
I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point -- nothing ruins a trip like a too-heavy load that includes a magic kit and a Chuck Norris poster but no cookpot.
Pick your spot well.
Choose a satisfying destination (hot tub, massage therapist’s office, fast food restaurant, etc.), because for Jester the journey is the destination, unless there’s a McDonalds nearby -- in which case the McDonalds is the destination. Once you’ve got that nailed down, don’t worry about the mileage. Jester will walk all damn day if there are 30 Chicken McNuggets at the end of the hike.
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| "The journey of a thousand calories begins with a single McNugget." |
Jester is easily confused and honestly can’t navigate for crap. He’s gotten lost on trails that blind people have successfully hiked. He’s gotten lost in towns. Not cities, towns. And maybe you can understand that when it happens in Ashland, Oregon, but he’s gotten lost in East Glacier, Montana, which has a total area of less than five square miles and something like six streets.
So it’s important to make sure he’s never involved in doing any real navigating, but on the other hand he likes to believe he’s in on the decision making.
So let him carry a map.
But not the actual map of where you actually are, because you may need that and he’ll probably just lose it. Give him a map of a random National Park, or the I-95 corridor, or Barrow, Alaska. It’s not like he’ll know the difference.
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| If you do get lost, do not let Jester become aware of it. It's difficult to concentrate when someone is suggesting cannibalism every five minutes. |
Jester should not be involved in meal planning on any level. If left to his own devices, he’ll only pack cheese, mayonnaise, and gummi worms.
It might be tempting to just buy a bunch of Mountain House meals and call it a day, but if you’ve ever been around Jester after he’s eaten Mountain House Chili Mac With Beef, you know that’s a terrible idea. And by “after” I mean “for the following 72 hours.”
The problem here is that the trail food Jester likes to eat makes him revoltingly gassy, so you’re faced with the following connundrum: if you don’t bring food he likes he’ll complain the entire time, but if you do bring food he likes YOU’LL complain the entire time.
Don’t know what to tell you. Bring whatever food you want. Plus earplugs and a noseclip. And don’t share a tent with him.
Keep him involved in camp chores.
But not, you know, any important ones.
Whatever you do, DO NOT TRY TO TEACH HIM TO LIGHT THE CAMP STOVE. He’s already come close to starting a wildfire in a windfarm and he definitely set fire to a tent in the 100 Mile Wilderness. And destroyed the stove.
Don’t have him help you hang the bear bag, either -- 42 percent of people who do end up being hit in the head with a rock tied to a rope. Even if he’s not doing that on purpose (and he might be), do you really want to play those odds?
Ideally you should pick a simple chore where it will be difficult for him to hurt anyone or damage any gear.
You could have him blow up the sleeping pads, which, amazingly, will not prevent him from talking. Or have him collect deadfall for a campfire you’re not really planning on having. Or ask him to locate the privy, recognizing that you may never, ever see him again.
Don’t take any of it too seriously.
Lord knows he’s not going to.
Note: This is a parody of a real article in Backpacker Magazine entitled, “How To Help Your Girlfriend Love Backpacking,” which a number of my female backpacking friends have found more than a little insulting -- it includes advice such as, “let her hold the map” and “teach her to light the camp stove.” Perhaps it would seem less condescending if framed in a gender-neutral way? Dunno. But I decided to take the opportunity to poke some fun at both the article and myself. Hopefully I’ve done my job well and it’s funny even if you haven't read the original.
I should also note that unlike most of the articles on this blog, just about everything mentioned in this one is true, although some of it is slightly exaggerated (but only slightly)(and only some of it).
