"Cool."
Yogi returned to the shelter with an armload of firewood. "We oughta have a fire tonight"
"It's not that cold," Isis said.
"That's just it" Yogi smiled. "It's warm enough to actually sit around the tire, instead of huddling up in our bags"
"Good point." I followed hint into the forest to collect more wood. As I left, I heard Big Ring and Tim arguing about the temperature.
"You think it's warm enough to sit around outside your bag?" Big Ring said. "Man, that's crazy! This weather .. "
The sound of Spike's unmistakable laughter came through the trees a few minutes later, and I knew she and Caveman must have arrived. She had a laugh like a wild bird, a high, trilling whoop that echoed through the forest.
I tossed my load of fallen branches down beside the fire ring and rejoined the crowd at the shelter. Tina was in the middle of a story.
"So there I was, sitting on a rock and eating my lunch. I'd never met the guy before. He just came and sat down beside me, without a word of introduction. He looked at my lunch, which was Betty Crocker frosting spread on crackers-"
Spike's warbling laugh filled the shelter. "Betty Crocker frosting?"
"Hey, it's tasty," Tim said with an air of wounded pride. "So he looked at me, and he looked at the frosting, and he said-" Tim gave a fair imitation of a well-remembered deadpan German accent "-he said, `Peanut butter has more fit."'
When the laughter had died away, I asked, "Black Forest?"
"Black Forest," Tim confirmed with a growl. "You know what else he did? A couple days later, a bunch of us were all camped at a shelter together. There was another shelter at fifteen, and the next one was at thirty-something, so it was pretty clear where we'd all end up the next night. So Black Forest got up super early and hiked ahead of us all day. And then he stood there by the shelter as we all came in, and he said to everybody as they arrived-" once again Tim imitated the German's tone "-'I win. You lose."'
"Black Forest," I Mused. "Really, he wasn't so had, once you got to know him "
Isis threw me a meaningful glance across the shelter. I hoped it had passed too quickly for Tim to pick tip on it, but he saw. He nodded his head, smirking a little hit as the facts fell into place. "So you and Black Forest ..."
"We didn't really do anything," I said. "We were just `seeking fellowship in the wilderness"'
"Oh, I like that!" Caveman said, laughing. "'Seeking fellowship .. .'"
"Yeah, I like it too," Spike said, snuggling closer to him.
"Did you guys meet on the Trail?" I asked.
Spike gave her marvelous laugh. "Not at all. I'd never really been backpacking before Jim-Caveman-asked me to join him on the Trail."
"This is our third date, actually," Caveman said in his well-modulated voice.
"Your third date?" I said, incredulous.
"Well, our whole relationship has been kind of interesting," Spike said. "On our first date I was mugged-"
"And our second date was a court appearance-"
"And our third date started in September, when he called me from the Trail in Hanover. He said he wanted to finish his hike, but he couldn't imagine spending another four months without me" She squeezed his shoulder. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"So wait a second," I said. "On your first date, Spike, you were mugged?"
"Yeah. Well, we went out to dinner at a nice little place Jim knew in the Village. He was walking me to the subway afterwards, and this guy just jumped out of an alley and said, `give me all your money!"'
"He was high on something," Caveman said. "The guy was not in his right mind. He didn't even have a weapon"
"So Jim did some kind of move. I don't know what it was. But all of a sudden he had the guy's arm twisted behind him. I took out my cell phone and called the cops" She smiled at Caveman. "He saved me on our very first date."
"Saved your wallet, anyway," he said. "Possibly. I think the guy was too strung out to know what he was doing."
"Then our next date was the guy's court appearance. We had to testify against him, and then we figured we might as well go to lunch together."
"This was two weeks before I left for the Trail," Caveman said. "All the time I was hiking, from Maine down to Hanover, I thought about her. I decided I couldn't spend any more time away from her. So I called her up to see if she wanted to hike the rest of the Trail with me."
"And here we are" Spike laughed again. "Crazy, huh?"
"We actually knew each other for a while before we started dating," Caveman said. "We were in the same graduate program at NYU"
"Drama therapy," Spike said, and he nodded.
"Drama therapy?" I asked.
"It's kind of like art therapy," Caveman said, "hut instead of drawing or painting you use role-playing exercises. I work with abuse victims, mostly teenagers"
I work with mentally disturbed children," Spike said.
I whistled. "That must be exhausting"
Caveman considered for a moment. "I guess it's like any medical profession. You develop a degree of separation from your work pretty fast"
"It's definitely tough sometimes," Spike said. "Especially the little kids with schizophrenia. Because when it develops at that young an age, you just know it's going to be with then all their lives. I had a little girl I used to work with, and one day she told me, 'Miss Dana, if you don't come in on Thursday, I'll feed you to Satan.' A ten year old."
Caveman nodded. "It can be really hard. The Trail is a good place for us right now. Things ... Holm here. I feel a lot more centered than I ever did in Manhattan."
"A lot colder, too, I bet," Big Ring grunted.
Caveman gave him a quizzical look. "It's not so had tonight. It might even be above freezing."
"I thought we went over this," Tim said. "I saw puddles today. Liquid water. I was a chew major, okay? Unless something really screwy has happened to the atmospheric pressure, the temperature has to be above freezing"
"Yeah, but I'm freezing," Big Ring said. "Hon, is supper ready?"
"Just about." Granny Gear's voice was muffled by the hood of her mummy bag. She reached out with one thin arm to stir the pot of noodles on the stove beside her. "Where's the butter?"
Big Ring oonched his sleeping bag to the mouse hanger where his food hag dangled and took out a stick of butter. I expected Granny Gear to slice off a few tablespoons, but she unwrapped it and put the whole thing in the pot.
"Do you guys always eat that much butter?" Isis asked. The two of us had eaten a fair amount of butter in winter too, but never by the stick.
"Yep," Big Ring said. "We usually have some with breakfast too."
"And they still don't have enough body fat to stay warm in this weather," Tim said. "I keep telling them, if they cut their pack weights down, they won't have to worry." He gestured toward his own ultralight pack, barely a third the size of Big Ring's, and then patted his own midriff. Unlike the run-of-the-mill emaciated hiker, Tim had a small protruding belly. "Still got my love handles, baby." He leered at Isis, and she made a face.
Big Ring sighed. I could tell that the pack weight debate was territory they had covered many times. "We like to be prepared," he said. "What would you do if it snowed three feet tomorrow? Besides," a glint came into his eyes, "we still have our toothbrushes."
Isis looked over at Tint. "You don't carry a toothbrush? That's disgusting!"
Tim gave a slightly guilty chuckle. "It was extra weight-I didn't use it much when the weather got cold, so I got rid of it."
Yogi looked up from the fire ring, where he had just lit a good-sized blaze, and shook his head. "Weather's warm now, man"
Tim grinned. (I tried not to look at his teeth.) "Yeah, and now I've gotten lazy."
Over the next few days, the warm weather continued, melting the snow even on the highest ridges. Through the thin haze of gray branches the contours of the land showed clearly; mountain chains extended like giant serpents, twisting and writhing across to the horizon. The worl
d was no longer black and white. Brown and gold and the blue of the sky had crept back into the spectrum. I missed green. I could feel the nearness of spring in my bones; for the first time since fall, we could take leisurely lunch breaks, and our hands would not grow stiff and cold. The horrible pins-and-needles feeling of thawing out was gone.
Isis and I walked with Yogi much of the time, matching our stride to his, and we talked about what we would do after the Trail. After the Trail. It seemed like such a distant concept. The A.T. was life.
"I'm planning to marry Tina, but I just don't know," Yogi said. "I like my freedom. I'm a wanderin' boy, you know?" Dimples appeared when he smiled, and his impossibly long eyelashes brushed his cheeks. He had a roguish, charming look. I worried a little for Tina's sake.
"How long have you been together?" I asked.
"Almost two years. Since my first hike"
"Do you love her?"
"I do, but we're so different. She doesn't hike. She doesn't even like the outdoors. She'd never even gone backpacking before we met. I bought her a pack and a good pair of hoots, and I took her out once. After a day and a half we had to cone back because she was freaking out being away from her kids."
"Kids?" Isis asked.
"Two. Ages three and five, from her first marriage. 11
"I )o you get along with them?" I asked hinm.
"Yeah, they're good kids. They're okay."
I fell silent, trying to get my mind around the thought of Yogi as a dad. We stopped for a drink of water at a place where the trail was narrow, and a view of the valley opened on one side. The fields down below had suddenly taken on a softened aspect, not green but almost green. The sun had melted the frost along one edge of the trail and dark brown mud showed, the first mud I had seen in a long time. The scent of the ground was richer, more complex, as though the odors locked in by frost had been released.
"I'm jonesing bad for a cigarette," Yogi said.
"Thought you gave it up."
"I did. No more cigs. Tina and me, we promised each other." He paused, staring into the valley. His solid, stocky frame cast a thick shadow. "That doesn't make it any easier, when she's a thousand miles away. Listen, you guys, when we go into Hot Springs, you gotta help nie. You gotta stop me from going into the store first thing and buying a pack of cigs."
"I'll try to help you out," I said.
"Me, too," Isis told him. "But I think it's something you've got to really want for yourself. It's not like anybody else can motivate you to quit."
"I hate it so much," he said quietly. "It's like, I know it's bad for n►e. I know it's these big corporations trying to keep me hooked so they can take my money before they kill me. I know all that shit ... and I still can't help it"
"Try this," I said. "Picture Tina and the kids. Think about all the years you could spend with them. You know how many years smoking takes off your life expectancy? Think about that before you light up again"
I looked over at him, but he didn't seem to be happy thinking about it. There was a trapped look in his eyes for a fleeting second. He stared out over the valley, deep in thought, and then shook his head and turned back to the trail. "I'll find a way."
The trail wound in and out of gaps, dipping steeply down and climbing just as steeply up. I )ead leaves in shades of brown and gray crackled underfoot. My feet, inside their boots, ached to feel the new earth. Frost lingered in the shadows, though, and I knew it was still too cold to walk barefoot. In fall, I had walked over patches of frost and snow without a second thought. This spring was different. A winter in wet boots and the intense cold of the Grayson Highlands had left half my toes numb and tingling, with an acute sensitivity to cold. It would be a while before I could walk barefoot again.
As we came down into one of the gaps, Yogi paused and sniffed the air. "Devil's Fork Gap," he said. "In springtime, this whole valley's full of trout lilies, spring beauties, all kinds of little wildflowers. So many flowers you could hardly even see the green of their leaves. I remember coming into this valley on my northbound hike. There was a wind that blew the smell of flowers up the slope. Sweetest thing you'd ever hope to smell."
His words awakened the memories of other springs, and we stood for a moment surrounded by the ghosts of flowers. We paused and sniffed, too, but there was only the scent of dry leaves, bark, and a faintly chill wind between the trees. And then, far off, came the sound of running water.
A day out from Hot Springs, the weather shifted back to winter. We hiked the last eleven miles into town under a dark gray sky with occasional sleet and snow. Isis and I kept pace with Yogi until the last descent, down a razorbacked ridge with sleet blowing in off the river to our left.
"I'll see you guys in town," he called, and lengthened his stride until he vanished in the gray woods ahead.
I thought of reminding him of his promise to Tina, and our promise to him, but it was too late. When we came to the edge of town, we found him standing under the eaves of the general store, smoking. A fresh pack of Marl- boros bulged in his front pocket.
He looked at us with guilty eyes. "You gotta understand, it's just this once.
I shrugged. "It's your choice"
Isis and I bought hot chocolate at the general store and walked on, looking for the hostel that Bob at Kincora had described. The town of Hot Springs was almost deserted, battened down against the storm. The sleet changed to wet snow as we walked through the center of town, passing a gas station, a few restaurants, and another store.
"Hey, guys!" Tiny Tim hailed us from across the street, where he stood on the steps in front of the squat brick post office. He gave a gloating smile and put on his best German accent. "`You lose."'
"Hey, Tim! What's happening?" I called as we crossed the empty street. I tried to ignore his smirk.
"Nothing much. Always a pleasure to see such lovely ladies. Yogi." He nodded at our companion. "We got rooms reserved for you guys at Elmer's. You've got to see the place to believe it. Best hostel I've seen yet ... Is the Family with you?"
"No, they're about a day back," Yogi said. "Hey, who's the letter from?"
I noticed the small white envelope in Tin's hand.
"Oh ... a friend." His smile failed for a moment. I caught a glimpse of a I )amascus postmark before he tucked it into his jacket pocket. "I'll meet you guys at Elmer's. A couple blocks tip on the left-big Victorian house with a porch out front"
"Come on, Tini," I said. "Who's the letter from?"
He looked at his toes. "I guess I know your `seeking fellowship in the wilderness' story. You might as well know mine." He took out the envelope. On the back was a drawing of an airplane and unfamiliar cramped handwriting that spelled out, I am A'oiu bonne nouc I will miss you. By-by.
"Who was it?"
"Well, I guess maybe you wouldn't recognize the handwriting. After she got ahead of me, she hardly ever signed in registers .. "
"Netta?" Isis asked, incredulous.
Tim nodded. "Uh-huh"
I remembered Netta's sad and knowing smile as she watched nie with Black Forest, months ago in Front Royal. It made sense now.
"So she's leaving?" I asked Tim.
"Yeah. She stayed in Damascus for a while, thinking that if she felt stronger, or the weather got better, she might come back out .. "The bantering laughter was gone from his voice, for once, and he sounded almost sad. Then he caught himself. "HMph. There's other fish in the sea. Ladies," he saluted and winked, and turned to walk away.
At the post office, Isis gave our 11) cards to the clerk. I hadn't expected any mail, but he returned with a large cardboard box. Above the address, our mother's graceful cursive spelled out Happy Birthday Susan! It was strange to see nny real name. Even stranger, I realized I had forgotten my birthday entirely. Every day was so similar out on the Trail, a struggle to stay warm, find water and a safe place to sleep, and get enough to eat. It was as though the calendar, the entire outside world, had no bearing on us.
"What day is it?" I asked the cl
erk.
He gave me a strange look. "It's Monday. The fifth of February."
" 7'lianks. "
As we walked to the hostel, Isis balanced the box on her head while I Managed our tour hiking sticks. I was silent, thinking. Some time around two o'clock this morning, I had turned twenty-three. I hadn't even realized.
The main entrance to the hostel seemed to be around hack, where the porch was heaped high with mail drop boxes. Isis set our package down on top of the stack and rapped on the door.
"Hello?" A tall, slightly heavy man with graying curls and dark, bushy eyebrows opened the door. He wore a cotton apron over his plaid shirt and jeans. He looked distracted. Over his shoulder, I could see a small kitchen. Well-used pots and pans hung from a rack above the counter, and a giant black cookstove dominated the far wall. Tantalizing aromas drifted out of the room. "You must be the Barefoot Sisters," he said. "Leave your sticks and boots outside, if you would. It's hard enough to keep this place clean as it is ... Bob! Give that soup a stir and check on the rice!"
I noticed a young man with blond dreadlocks standing by the stove. "Yeah, I'm on it," he said.
"I'm Elmer, by the way," the man who had opened the door told us. He smiled, and there was genuine warmth in his expression. "Welcome to my place. Make yourselves at home" Elmer gave us a guestbook to sign ourselves in, and he bustled off into another room to check on something.
"Don't mind him," the man at the stove said. "Elnmer's always a little bit touchy when he's cooking. He's an awesome dude, but he can get grouchy. Are you guys really the Barefoot Sisters?"
"Yeah. I'm jackrabbit."
"I'm Isis"
"Wow! Far out. Pleased to meet you, I really am. I'm Bob" He wiped his hand on his apron and held it out.
I noticed his tiny round glasses, goatee, and bleach-blond dreadlocks. "You just don't look like a Bob to nie," I said as we shook hands. "No offense, but the name Bob always makes nle picture a middle-aged insurance salesman."
"Hey, there's some cool Bobs," he said, turning back to stir the soup.
"Such as?"
"Well, there's Bob at Kincora. And Bob Marley."
"Any others?"
Barefoot Sisters: Southbound Page 50