Including the Details

By Peter Bowden

The pack was old canvas, sun-faded and rubbed thin in places, but strong. He had patched the straps himself with fishing line. Inside, everything was folded tight and in order.

There was a rolled canvas tent, oiled and heavy. A wool blanket. A small hatchet wrapped in a cloth. Tin pot, tin cup, metal spoon. Coffee. Hard bread wrapped in waxed paper. Dried meat, salt-packed. A match tin sealed with wax. Coil of rope. Small hunting knife. A whetstone in a sock. A flask half full. A notebook with a pencil tucked in the spine.

He carried a map, but he didn’t need it. He carried a compass, though he hadn’t looked at it in days. What mattered was how the sun moved. What mattered was how the land told him where to go.

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