If you’re used to hiking, you may have encountered him already. I never have, but I saw his mark many times, and every hiker I talked to has a story of the famous Naked Hiker. How do we know he exists? Because we find his/her clothes, abandoned on the side of the trail. Obviously, we all have a lot of questions… How does it feel, why do you do it, are you part of a group, or just one very committed stripping hiker?
The following poem doesn’t answer any of those questions. It is, though, if I may say so myself, the best worst terrible poem I’ve ever written!
Twas a grey day, the clouds were low
As we set up for this Munro*
In the famous vale of Glencoe
In gore-tex clad from head to toe,
And sturdy boots, upward we go.
Say, what is it we chance upon?
See, neatly folded on the ground!
Is it the proof we’re looking for?
Behold the Pants, ne’er seen before,
The Pants, the Pants, meaning, therefore,
He’s here, the one we’re looking for,
The Mystical, Mysterious Pantless Man in the Mist.
Hence in the fog slowly we climb,
Calling to him we boldly seek
In vain we shout, time after time,
As we go up the second peak
No-one answers, we hear no curse.
From dreich* the weather turns to worse
We even start to feel chagrined
As gusts of biting, chilly wind
Cause us much woe for him we chase,
Surely, he’s cold beneath the waist,
The Mythical, Misunderstood Pantless Man in the Mist!
Thou, to which we turn for wisdom,
As the defender of freedom,
Is it truly your vocation,
Was pantlessness your intention?
Or did your pants fly in the air,
Forsaking your hapless derriere,
Making your wretched, shivering buttock
Not a statement, merely bad luck?
If it’s the case, come have a scoop
Of hot, nourishing chicken soup…*
Poor Miserable, Misguided, Pantless Man in the Mist!
*Munro: Scottish mountain of more than 3000ft.
*dreich: Scottish word to describe very bleak weather.
*chicken soup: come hike with me in cold weather, and I’ll offer you a selection of warm beverages including coffee, tea, chocolate and “soupe du jour” (depending on which dehydrated goodies I have on me). It’s only to pavlov you into associating me with warmth and comfort… and next time you’ll be on the mountain and the weather is incomparably dreich, you’ll sigh and think “I wish the Rambling Blue Owl was here”. This is how I intend to achieve world domination. With soup.