A person can’t really do much backpacking without being somewhat self-sustaining. After all, on the trail, there’s no take-out Chinese or pizza delivery, no movie rentals, coffee shops, or pharmacies. Not even hot water on demand (my personal weakness). And certainly no motorized transportation. Could any activity be more self sufficient than walking?
But it wasn’t backpacking that started me thinking about self-sufficiency; it was a recent city council meetings with many involved citizens talking about economic growth in our little town. One of the participants later posted an article reflecting on the economic theories of Jane Jacobs. I recommend jumping on over after you’ve finished this blog & reading the whole thing. This is the sentence that stuck with me:
According to Jacobs, the engine of economic life is “import-replacement.” What this somewhat clunky term means is making the products you have been buying.
While Jacobs is talking on a societal scale rather than the personal, her ideas, in combination with another article by the thoughtful Peter Bregman, started me thinking about my how the concept of making what I have been buying might apply to my life.
Not that I buy much: food from the farmers market, the co-op or the garden; clothes & housewares at the local thrift store; most of my books from the local library or used book store. I’m not quite ready to start raising all my own food or sewing my own clothes, much less weaving blankets, towels & dishclothes! Neither am I committed to biking the 14 miles to work or concocting household cleaning supplies. According to the various solar engineers who have sadly shaken their heads at my home’s southern exposure, I can’t even make solar hot water.
But one thing I can do is make my own backpacking food.
As we hike along with our self-sufficient backpacks, most of the items that we carry along have been produced by other folks, even if some of us have gone so far as to stitch up our own sleeping quilts, backpacks and tents as proposed by lightweight backpacking guru Ray Jardin.
And we are grateful to the folks who cobbled our shoes, wove our socks, spun our primaloft, stitched our backpacks, produced our flashlights & cooking pots & stove & water filters! Very grateful indeed to those dear workers who made the batteries, filled the fuel tank, finished the shoe laces, hemmed our bandanas! Take a moment here to send your gratitude to all of those who make the practical, hardworking objects that make our backpacking possible.
Our food can be different. Our food can be hand-made.
I make my own food for many reasons, not least because it’s the most entertaining and absorbing method of ensuring optimum nutrition and deliciousness on the trail. Organic, mostly whole food meals, free of wheat, soy & sugar, are not so easy to come by on the wall of foil packs in our local backpacking store. I like to think my way saves money, too. This might not actually pencil out if I calculated my “earning” rate for the hours I’ve spent laboring over the blender, food processor, chopping block & dehydrater. Since I’m leveraging “hobby” hours into food, however, my assumption is probably true.
Turns out that preparing food for the trail is something more than a hobby. (No, compulsion is not the word I’m looking for, she says–perhaps a tad defensively). It’s more like sewing my own clothes, making my own furniture, or growing vegetables in a backyard garden (there she is with the food again!). It’s a way to be somewhat self-sufficient. Admittedly a very small way–but the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step right?
For this new year, I hope that you will continue your forward journey into self-sufficient backpacking food production!
Next blog, I hope to tell you the story of the next door neighbor’s persimmons and what became of them.