Goodbye to my base layer: A love letter

Dear Base Layer,

I’m sorry to do this over writing, but it’s time for us to go our separate ways. I know what you must be thinking, that after all the great times together, this is how I am ending it? I bet you thought that our time together would go on forever, that for years and years to come we would adventure together in the mountains, sleep together in the woods and that I’d always find you to cuddle up with when I was cold. However, it is time for us to move on.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want us to part. But now, sadly, you don’t perform the way I need you to anymore. It started slowly, when you tore a small hole here or there. My elbows would show, but then the wrists started to go. I joked with friends that it added breathability and thumb loops. Slowly, however, you started to lack in performance as well. Despite saying that I wanted my back to be covered at all times, you went ahead and added even more ventilation, tearing to look more like a spider web than the base layer you were. You didn’t communicate with me and I didn’t appreciate it.

I know it’s sad — us going our separate ways — but remember the good times we had. Like when I learned how to offwidth climb. You seemed concerned about it, but we made it through in (mostly) one piece. I really appreciated how you took the brunt of the damage from those trying climbs. That still means a lot to me. Or the time where you and I lived in close quarters in Nepal? I wore you every day that month and not once did you complain about needing your own personal space. Despite the fact that I never showered that month. We’ve done so many awesome things together. From skiing, running and backpacking, to putting up first ascents and climbing, you’ve been there with me almost every step of the way.

But now you have a mind of your own, and you aren’t communicating your thoughts with me. I feel like every time we’re close there is something different about you now. Where did these new holes come from? Why do you keep trying to resemble swiss cheese? I’ve asked you repeatedly not to keep changing without talking to me, but you aren’t complying. And I have a confession to make: there’s more than just you. I’ve been climbing and skiing with some other base layers recently. I’m sorry, but you just aren’t fulfilling my needs anymore.  I’m sorry it has to end this way, but I can’t live this life anymore.

I’ll always remember you.

Love,

Parker