Six Months in Three Weeks

My Hat came to me; clean, stiff and looking new out of the box. That lasted about ten minutes as my 8-month-old threw up on it.

Needless to say, I was not happy as I just got the hat but, I washed it off and its story began.

My Trail Bum hat spent its first real week jammed behind the seat of the truck, waiting for the weekend hike. It got a bit smudged and creased before it ever hit a trail.

Ah well the first mark is always the hardest to get past…

Since then, it’s been baked in midday heat, soaked in sudden downpours and sweat, caked in dirt that doesn't fully brush off anymore and washed in a pond at the end of the trail.

The original color is buried under a layer of use, and the brim has the exact warn shape of my hands throwing it on and off.

It looks like I’ve owned it for years but that the point, it has a history which is my story. Hikes, summits, getting caught in the rain and washing it all off in a lake, stream or pond wherever I found one.

It’s not a souvenir; it’s part of my story. I guess the hat didn't start looking right until it got ruined.