This is the Shorts.

In your listening to the Jirpaag diaries, a duct tape then beer production, with additional

support from New Belgium Brewing, Kuat Rax and Patagonia.

I grew up in Eastern Canada in a family that wasn't really that out of the way.

My sister's my brother and I were active, but only in traditional sports, gymnastics, swimming,

soccer, or track.

My family had two musty things that we called sleeping bags.

Radiculously heavy brown canvas, itchy wool flannel, metal zipper, both as wide as a twin

bed and about as unwieldy to carry.

These sleeping bags had to be some relic of a trip where either a car or a large animal

helped bring them to a point of rest.

I hated getting one of them out for any reason because I couldn't put it away by myself.

It was a two-kid job to wrestle that thing back into a giant submissive role.

Somewhere along my traditional sporting path, I began to change.

I'm fairly sure it started in gymnastics class, but I really started to pay attention to

my new calling while out running on a dirt path I had ambitiously dubbed a trail.

I began to be obsessed with the idea of being outside, getting dirty, moving through

the landscape, and then stopping in the middle of it.

I wanted to get out and to be out.

And I realized that when you can sleep anywhere, you can go anywhere.

I remember going to buy it.

I was a little worried about the money, but I was in complete realization that anything

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