A Resin-Scented Bivouac

Descending the pinecone staircase before total dark turned out to be the prudent call. Resin on the boot soles does not make for agile mountaineering. Down at the base of the white railing post, I spotted an overhanging lip where peeling paint meets the concrete slab. Wedged underneath was a dry strip of curling birch bark, shaped almost like an arched bunker. I kicked my boots against the timber to knock free the stickiest sap, unslung my blue pack, and slid it into the alcove first to test the depth. Plenty of clearance. Backing in until my shoulders met the wood grain, I pulled the bark flush against the entryway. Snug, sheltered, and completely out of the evening wind.