We typically don't get all googly-eyed over celebrities here at BACKPACKER, but every now and then, a celluloid bombshell catches our, um, fancy. And boom -- our usual daydreams about scaling far-flung summits in the teeth of a gale are replaced with cozier thoughts of cuddling in a tent on said mountains with a young lovely who desperately needs our body warmth to ward off hypothermia.
It happened to me earlier this week. Our current house guest -- a young AMC hut caretaker in the White Mountains -- informed me that Jennifer Connelly is a frequent visitor to the huts. Now, I've been a fan of the actress ever since she ripped up the screen in Darren Aronofsky's devastating "Requiem for a Dream." And the thought of Jennifer Connelly in hiking boots and merino wool is almost enough to make me forget she's married with kids.
Anyway, mea culpa. A Hollywood crush, soon to pass. But isn't that cool to know that such an elegant, excellent actress gets dirt on her boots, just like us? Maybe I need to go back to New England on an article assignment. To the Whites. And stay in the huts. For a few weeks. Just don't tell my wife.