[at-l] Tuckerizing

[lparker@cacaphony.net (L. Parker)]

> -----Original Message-----
> From: at-l-admin@mailman.backcountry.net
> [mailto:at-l-admin@mailman.backcountry.net]On Behalf Of
> Farina6@aol.com
> Sent: Sunday, December 16, 2001 1:08 PM
> To: at-l@mailman.backcountry.net
> Subject: [at-l] Tuckerizing
>
>
> Okay...tuckerizing is when your pack is scrutinized by your
> hiking peers to
> see what you have that can be eliminated, right?
>
> HOW did the name come about??

THE LEGEND OF FRIAR TUCK

One upon a time, in a state far from the AT, there lived a fair maid. No
pampered princess content in a pinkie palace, she was a Gypsy in both heart
and soul. And she craved an adventure; to walk for 2000 miles.  She soared
thru the sky to the land called Georgia where she met a kind man named Sir
Milt who packed her on his steed and took her to the Mountain called
Springer.  Here she would find the trail to that most holy of mountains -
Katahdin - and she began her hike. The day grew old and night was nigh, so
Lady Gypsy and Sir Milt sought shelter near the mountain.  On the way, they
met a stranger named Friar Tuck.  He seemed an affable sort and Sir Milt
knew Gypsy would meet many men on her journey, so her bid her much luck and
ado and left in the night for his own home far away.

The affable Tuck and our Gypsy spent time before sleep discussing her plan
to walk from the land called Georgia to the land called Maine.

"But prithee, fair maid" asked Tuck, "why dost' thou carry such a heavy
load?  It will be cumbersome and cause you injury that will slow your trip!"

"But Friar" said Gypsy, "I need all these things to keep me whilst on my
way!  I have very little.  What would you have me cast aside?"

Such and invitation could not be ignored and Friar Tuck pounced on our
Gypsy's pack, tossing things hither and yon. "A trowel, use your foot.  A
comb.... use your fingers.  Your tent has a floor.. why carry a second!"
Bottles and bits were flung far and wide until only her underwear remained
inside.

"No" cried our Gypsy, fit to be tied.

"One pair", said the Friar, as he cast them aside.

When her pack had been plundered he glanced at maid Gypsy.

She started to giggle. He thought "Is she tipsy?"

She laughed at the pile that she no longer needed and thanked the kind Tuck.
But the gleam in her eye said she kept a secret.

As dawn broke our Gypsy and Tuck parted ways.  Her steps were lighter and
her heart even more.  She had hidden her treasure from the affable Friar.
Her teensy little deodorant was safe.

Off she went to walk 2000 miles.... a trip under construction as this tale
is told.

So when madmen and women speak of walking to Maine, the tale is retold so we
remember his name.

Kind Tuck.... Wise Tuck left her only one pair. And we wonder still, what he
did with her spares.