A bike is not a hard ship, or heck, even a soft one.

 On Tuesday, after a stint playing lab rat for a study with LabSync at UMass followed by a casual wooded walk with a couple friends I more typically see at a running pace, I headed north to the center of Montague for a Craigslist instigated chance at replacing the summer weight sleeping bag I lost off my rack in the summer of 2022 thanks to apparently far less than ideal strapping technique on my part.  At least now I know the importance of feeding bungees through the compression bag straps instead of merely oven them.  I did retrace my route the next day up to the last-known-point in of having the sleeping bag in southern Vermont, but it seemed those down feathers had been found by different toes to warm.  I hope its new owner is enjoying the bag; it's a good one!  I did at least find my paperback evening read which happily landed next to the dirt road puddle instead of in it!

But all of Tuesday's ventures were a much better successes.  I enjoy lab studies.  They are an excellent opportunity for me to ask questions of well educated people that know far more about the subject at hand that I ever well.  Free education!  I also enjoy the two friends with whom I walked afterward.  They are on their way to receiving PHDs and becoming more well educated people I may get to ask questions on some future studies, but hey, being friends, I needn't even wait for that!  And finally, in my typical round the bout way, I did replace my lost sleeping bag, and Montague is only about half way to Vermont.

But that distance to Montague, or rather, the equipment seller's perception of it, it what draws my attention.  Montague center is less than two hours from my house, and only an hour from my combined trip stop in Amherst.  I ride a lot further than that, and importantly, I do it for fun.  Riding a bike is fun, not hardship, but the seller apparently saw it with a different valuation.  He was also selling a bivy sack, and while the sleeping bag was my main interest, I was not entirely opposed to considering proper bivy gear despite loving my improper shelters constructed of light, waterproof, breathable Tyvek.  At the risk of giving DuPont a free plug, the material makes simply awesome outdoor gear, and as a bonus, it's the best tire boot I've ever found, being thin, pliable, and stretch free!

But the bivy sack in Montague, in addition to being heavier and possibly less adept at venting, was suffering from seam tape that was separating from the fabric, so I passed on the purchase.  The seller voiced concern about me "riding all the way from Amherst" only to find the equipment condition lacking.  I refrained from telling him I'd truly ridden from Granby, instead pointing out, "Well, at least I didn't take a car up here.  I like riding bikes, so even if nothing had worked for me, I'd have won out with a fun ride.  Driving, that would've sucked either way."

Keep in mind, this was someone selling back country camping gear, so it seems a reasonable guess that he has some experience with movement under his own power, possible on just his feet, for the mere joy of that experience, but he still perceived functional movement by a body on a bike as too hard, a negative.  I'm not the type to make a task difficult just for that purpose, but I do take issue with the frequent modern ideal that easiest is best.  If I just wanted easy, I would never leave my house, or likely the I.V. drip that would save me all that laborious chewing.  I like experiences, and sometimes the best of those take a little effort, but once you grow used to that, the effort becomes truly minor and may even be part of the experience.  Added bonus: on a more meandering route home, I found golden chantrelle mushrooms for my pizza that evening, something, along with other joyful experiences, I definitely would've missed staring through a windshield.