Flashback to many years ago. The Curmudgeon is sitting at the back of a canoe fishing. At the front, his friend, lets call him Fred, is also fishing. They are 30 miles from the trailhead, two miles from a likely but unexplored campsite, and packed heavy with a week’s worth of gear. The sun is low in the horizon.
Fred: “Hey, it’s getting late. Lets setup camp.”
Curmudgeon: “Relax. Plenty of time.”
Ten minutes later.
Fred: “It’s going to be dark soon. Lets setup camp.”
Curmudgeon: “Not yet. I just got a bite. I’m gonna’ nail a pike the size of an alligator. I just know it.”
Half an hour later.
Fred: “It’s hard to paddle in the twilight. I wish we’d setup camp.”
Curmudgeon: “We got this!”
An hour later.
Curmudgeon: “This is bullshit! I steered the canoe into a rock I couldn’t see in the dark. I twisted my ankle setting up the tent in the dark. I almost fell in the lake filtering water in the dark. And now I’m thrashing around looking for firewood in the dark like a friggin’ Neanderthal!”
Fred: “If only someone had warned you to setup camp WHILE IT WAS STILL DAYLIGHT things might be better. Among the two of us, who did exactly that?”
Curmudgeon: “I deserve that.”
Fred: “Yes, you do!”
Back in the modern world I rolled (reluctantly) out of Mud Ditch and pointed my bike toward the last dot on my map that I wanted to explore; “Antler”. Mud Ditch had exceeded my expectations so completely that I could only imagine Antler had free beer, tent campsites with wifi, and strippers at a bonfire… why the hell not? Mud Ditch had taught me that a dot on a map in this forest could mean nothing or anything.
All day long I’d been pinging my SpotX. This sent, via satellite or magic, small text messages to a select few people who are supposed to alert someone (or do whatever needs doing) if I disappear. The group is more than one person (in case someone is ignoring the messages… as Mrs. Curmudgeon often does) and each message comes with a link to my location. The text is usually irrelevant; “Saw a bear at Raspberry Hollow. All is well. Time = ABC. Location = XYZ.”
One of my cadre of “please read the texts in case one says I just tore my femur through the bike’s rear sprocket” people is… Fred. I sent another ping; “Just left Mud Ditch, en route to Antler. All is well. Time = ABC. Location = XYZ.”
I looked at the sun, it was low in the sky. I was 50+ miles from my tent. I was going the wrong direction; away from it. I’d have to hustle to explore Antler and return (via also unexplored roads) to my tent. I might do the last few miles in the dark. I’ve been meaning to upgrade the lights on Honey Badger.
I pictured Fred clicking the Location = XYZ link and screaming at his screen “Setup camp you nitwit!” Ha ha ha… that’s so funny!
I laughed into my helmet and…
Wait a minute!
WTF am I doing?
I turned around and started heading back to camp. Antler would remain unexplored this day.
I got to camp with 20 minutes of light left. Total miles ridden? 87. My ass was sore! 87 is almost nothing if on a highway and almost inconceivably far compared to my old canoe trip days.
Back at camp I whipped up a Mountain House and congratulated myself on being slightly less stupid than I once was.