A Room of One's Own

Ever wonder how they repair the powerlines -- those located far from the trails, up a steep hill or mountainside? I never wondered either, until I saw it while hiking the other day.

A helicopter lowers the technicians, one at a time, in a rescue basket. This process alone takes maybe an hour or so. Once the workers are safe on the ground, the basket lowers bundles of equipment and tools.

The helicopter returns a couple of hours later and lowers something else. Hmm, as it's noon, what do you think -- more tools, or pizza?

Then, in the evening, the morning's process repeats itself, but in reverse. And the next day they do it all over again.

It's pretty cool to watch, but I can't help but consider, what with the expense of every helicopter sortie, more economical alternatives.

How about setting up a base camp for the two or three days it takes to finish the job. And I'm not talking about roughing it, but providing deluxe accommodations like this, the Outwell Montana. Were I a technician, I'd leap at the chance to spend a few days on top of the world, even fib about problems with crimping the wires and whatnot just to stay a little longer.

I, myself, have been shopping for a new tent. And lately, I'm all about the Brit catalogs. Cotswold, for instance; I don't know, maybe it's the fabulous model selection.

Cotswold is rather top of the line, but I absolutely don't want to be caught in the middle of a mountain thunder storm, surrounded by coyote and bear, having second thoughts about some Big Lot bargain.

Though the party tent above is too grand for me, I am smitten by these two zippy, sporty models: the Power Lizard Ultralite or better still, the Hilleberg.

I backpack, sometimes in company, and sometimes alone. So a tent that's less than three pounds? I am so there. Hell, my Chardonnay trail mix alone weighs more than that.