A Whiff Of Elk
Pulling rubbermaid tubs down from shelves in the garage, I begin to sort gear. Sleeping bags and pads, water jugs, cook gear, the list goes on. Consulting a google doc I slowly pull the group gear we are responsible for and the personal gear our family needs. In less than a week we will be launching boats amidst red rock on a desert river.
Then as I open a large duffel, looking for a stuff sack, it hit me…an unmistakable whiff of elk. An unwashed bag contained the delectable odor. Once that smell has permeated your nostrils you never forget it. Instantly my mind leaves the present, recalling chasing wapiti last fall and just as quickly moving to thoughts of this fall.
Last year my father helped me on an incredible hunt and this year he has drawn a tag. It’s my turn to return the favor. Six months remains until the season, but it’s never too early to plan or daydream. So while I try to remain in the present my mind will no doubt continue to wonder to thoughts of elk until October comes.
They call it the Proust effect – involuntary autobiographical memory. Nothing, and I do mean nothing, triggers it like elk musk. Good post, pal.
Good to know…makes sense. Thanks Walt!
Catching “whiffs” of my gear is what keeps my wife out of the garage. She thinks I keep it that way so she won’t see what I may have bought recently. She may be a little right on that score.
J
We all have our strategies!