Hiker Funk


Yonder and I stayed with the Twelve Tribes for the day. We did laundry, and I tried washing my sleeping bag. I put some patchouli oil in the wash and my bag came out with this weird hiker funk patchouli smell that I’ve never been able to get out. The smell is nostalgic for me, but it really took on a new character at this point on trail.

The smell is earthy, dirty, human, oily, spicy and very very funky. When I get my gear out to go camping on the weekends, I am overwhelmed by this smell. I didn’t notice it much at the time, and now I have a fondness for it. It reminds me of the wilds. It reminds me of a part of me that only exists outside of towns and cities.

I spent the day with a Sobo named Outlaw. She was having a rough time with the Wildcats when I met her, but we had a blast running around town. I worked cleaning the hostel and Yonder put up trim with a tribe member. In the evening we went to dinner with the tribe and talked with their families. It was an intense visit, as members sometimes get emotional during the gatherings.


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