Deflated

For three trips in a row, I had an inflatable sleeping pad that didn't want to do its job: stay inflated. The first time around I didn't have the repair kit with me on a quick backpacking trip. I chalked it up to bad luck for a five-year-old mattress and moved on with life by blowing it up every few hours for a couple of summer nights. I added a midday nap or two into the mix. I got home telling myself I'd fix it. Didn't happen.

For the next trip in the fall I grabbed my backup sleeping pad. Smart move. Well, that one had something going on too. Didn’t find out until I settled in for the night. For the life of me, I couldn't locate the leak. Not that it would’ve mattered all that much. That trusty repair kit was sitting safely at home again. The following day I gave it another effort; however, being camped next to a roaring river tends to drown out the always satisfying noise of escaping air. Mystified, I went ahead and drove into the closest town to see if I could get some help. An employee and myself twisted and kneeled and folded and pushed to no avail. I ended up renting a foam sleeping pad for the rest of the trip to put under the mattress so when I would inevitably hit the ground during the night, I wouldn't start shivering. All in all it worked out.

By the time I got home I was more motivated to patch things up. For one of the pads, I found the leak right away. I tested it out by laying some heavy books on it overnight. My two girls jumped on it. All was good. For the second one, I had to go the route of filling up the bathtub to give it a dunk. I submerged it again and again. Nothing. Not one measly bubble. Since all my gear is from Big Agnes, I sent it in to their excellent repair team. Of course I took my time to actually ship it to them. They get it and tell me it's covered under warranty and a new one was shipping out. Sweet. I check the tracking info and it'll arrive exactly one day after I leave for this trip. Oh well. Guess I'll be using the other one. I make sure to pack the repair kit. A brand-new, never been opened repair kit.

I was ready to go. I even brought along a new carabiner to hang a light inside my tent. One of my brighter ideas. A couple of days into the trip it starts happening again. As the night wore on, I started sinking. I almost couldn’t believe it. I sat straight up. Immediately smacked my head real good on my newly hung light.

All faith wasn’t lost. I wasn’t deflating all the way to the ground. The next day, the leak was identified. Plus I came prepared this time. I grab the repair kit. I break the seal and go in for the squirt. Literally nothing comes out. The glue is rock hard. Undeterred, I bust out my duck tape and proceed to wrap that baby up. I'm pretty proud of my tape job. Then the night comes. It’s late fall with snow threatening and temperatures are dropping steadily. Somehow my handiwork made it significantly worse. It goes soft quickly. It's like sleeping on a napkin. I resort to blowing again.

By the wee hours of the morning I was a tad bit disoriented and not exactly ready to hit the ground running. I have these down pants that keep me quite warm. And I wore them all night. But they have one flaw: they don't work as well when you put them on backwards. I had to pickpocket myself each time I needed to get something from my front pockets. As I was fiddling with my pants and scouting around, I heard a mountain lion or an airplane or maybe my beanie brushing against the hood of my jacket. Whatever it was scared the bejeezus out of me. I gasped and turned right around.

A night spent in my rental car and another one at a bed-and-breakfast closed out the trip. When I got home my brand-new sleeping pad was waiting for me. I unboxed it and blew it up in the front yard. My daughters flipped it over and used it as some sort of slide. Lots of running and lots of jumping. They seemed to be having fun. To be continued I’m sure...