Earthquake Clothes

 

Wearing my earthquake clothes in Newfoundland

The earth shook as I stood in front of the mirror in the changing room at the Red Cross thrift store in Christchurch, New Zealand. I had just discovered the joy of merino wool for the first time, in the form of a blue long-sleeve shirt that said Elusiv in faint gray letters across the front. And at that exact moment, there had been a small earthquake. I stepped out of the changing room and all the clothes racks were swaying slightly, coat hangers tinkling as they gently drifted back to stationary positions. 

It was my first earthquake, and it was very minor, but my fellow shoppers had more experience than they wanted with earthquakes. Many of them were standing in doorways with their hands braced against the frames, preparing for the worst. We were only four years removed from the massive 2011 Christchurch earthquake that had toppled numerous buildings and killed 185 people. Rubble was still strewn around the city and many of the historic buildings were fenced off, deemed unsafe to enter. But thankfully, this small quake was simply a little reminder of the fault lines that criss-crossed New Zealand. 

Once it was clear that the earth was going to be quiet, I walked up to the counter with my prizes, the wool shirt, some faded Kuhl mountain pants and a pair of heavy wool socks. These clothes were the only clothes I purchased in my entire months-long adventure around New Zealand, simply because they were indestructible. I proceeded to climb dozens of mountains, rappel into canyons, ski, bike and generally rampage in this exact outfit for several years. Once my adventures were over, I switched to full-time construction work and these clothes remained my go-to when I needed to bundle up in the cold. 

I walked out into the slate gray air of coastal Christchurch. It was mid summer, but the Great Southern Ocean does whatever it wants with the weather. I retrieved my backpack and guitar from the hostel where I had crashed last night and moseyed to the bus station. I had learned the hard way that it was nearly impossible to hitchhike in and out of a major city. Too many cars, too many roads, and too much competition. 

I found the bus station, and a locker room where I could change into my new duds. For the first time in three months, I was wearing clothes that had never lived in a sweaty backpack. To this day, I cherish the smell of a used clothes store, like the Salvation Army because it reminds me of these particular clothes. I know it sounds ridiculous for me to gush about a set of clothes, but for one day in my life in February 2016, I felt like a fashion mogul. 

When I finally stepped off the bus a few hours later in Lake Tekapo, I was still strutting like a peacock. The fact that all the hostel rooms were full couldn’t ruin my mood. The clouds had cleared away and summer sun was setting behind the Southern Alps. Lake Tekapo is the hub of the New Zealand Dark Sky preserve and the stars are absolutely mind blowing. I pitched my tent in a grove of shrubs on the edge of town and found a big flat rock on the lake shore to lay down on. The alpine night air was chilly, but my wool shirt was perfect.

        This morning, seven years and a month later, heavy frost blanketed my truck as I got ready for work. Needing warm clothes, I rummaged in my clothes bucket and found my Elusiv shirt and wool socks. Not only are they still warm, they still fit, even though I am not quite as trim as I was in my globe trotting days. Unfortunately, the Kuhl pants were torn to shreds while sliding into third base during a softball game last summer. Once safe at home, I simply ripped the shredded lower half of the pants off and now they will be cutoff shorts for the rest of their days. Nevertheless, I am still tickled at the quality and duration of my earthquake clothes. 

Wearing my earthquake clothes in New Zealand!