8/8/04   Pants Crisis

Six weeks now and one small crisis brewing.  My generous clothing strategy allows for a main supply and a "reserve".  The main is good for clean underwear, socks and a shirt every day for a week, and, generally, for two pairs of pants for a week.  Usually I try to operate solely off the main (sometimes stretching the supply a little on the ripeness end), and periodically hit a laundromat, thereby replenishing the main.  I also tend to include an extra pair of pants to wear while doing laundry.  The reserve, which lives in a completely separate small bag and is stowed away in a locker, consists of a complete set of clothes for a whole second week, including two more pairs of pants.  It is not unusual to dip into the reserve -- especially when stuck in a small port or anchorage.

So, adding them all up: five pairs of pants.  Good for me, as pants are difficult -- my "unique physique" (TM) is not easily served off the rack, and even when well supplied, length alterations are usually required (I am a bit under-square).  Ongoing fit is not a problem (except that the pants get too big).  I almost always get smaller when boating, not because I eat less, but because I am quite active and we walk quite a bit (town is always uphill from the sea) and I am always climbing around on the boat or docks fussing with this or that.  Which brings us to the present problem.  All this climbing about on docks leads to excess seat abrasion and all this fussing about usually involves bending (and thus stretching).  The pants (mostly dockers - nice, but basically an inferior product made in far away sweatshops) are not surviving the challenge.

This started way back in Gros Morne National Park, where, after taking Polarlys to the beach by dinghy, I mooned a boat load of tourists while bending over to set the dinghy's anchor ashore.   [ Guide accompanied by Newfoundland folk music on loud speaker (vaguely cajun): "And here ladies and gentlemen we have the lovely glacial rock formation formed during the last ice age, beaches now enjoyed by a vast spectrum of wildlife -- why, right now we see a small black bear and, oh myy what's that, perhaps a seal exhibiting some sort of threat display." ]  It was a morning dog run, I had not yet really gotten up and dressed and I am not real sure about underwear -- actually I'm pretty sure about underwear since the way that I discovered the problem involved later sitting on a rock on the beach that seemed very, very cold -- too damn cold.  Adieu pair number one.

Pair number two was while tying to a tall dock a week or two later.  Pair number three has not actually parted ways, but there is a significant fissuring and the remaining seat is looking awfully thin.  I have moved on to pair number four which, while not actually fissured, is also getting pretty thread bare.  Pair number five remains in the reserve bag.  Time will tell, but we are clearly headed for a close finish, pants wise.