by Mandi Lynn
I smile a little as she goes on a small rant.
“Anyways, every day she spent trying to convince me this trip was a good idea, I spent just as much time trying to convince her otherwise. When she went to college and met your dad, I was thrilled because I knew she found something to keep her grounded.” Gran pauses, bringing her hands together as she thinks. “I loved your father. He was her perfect match, but sometimes I wonder if falling in love made her give up on that dream, or if that was just a good enough excuse for her not to go anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you think if your dad knew about the bus back then and her big plan, he would have let her not go? I mean, if your father knew about it, he probably would have insisted he come along too! He was much more adventurous than her,” Gran says with a little laugh.
“Maybe she just grew out of that phase of life?” I offer.
“Maybe. Or maybe she thought it would be best to give me what I wanted, rather than what she wanted.” Gran stops to take a breath, and she eyes the bag of food before pushing it back toward me. “Your dad would have wanted you to go on this trip. Your mom would have been stubborn about it, only because it’s the same thing I did to her. We create a cycle for ourselves in the way we’re raised and the way we parent. I want you to have a choice, Marly. I took your mom’s choice away, so promise me you’ll at least entertain the idea, okay?”
I nod, taking the bag this time. I can promise to at least think about it. Granted, I had thought about it all day yesterday. I had even texted Lori about it, thinking she would say how much she’d miss me and that I’d be crazy to drive alone cross-country, but instead, she replied, OMG, you have to do it!
Lori pointed out how epic the trip would be, even if I traveled alone. She started mapping my route for me, making sure I stopped at any major tourist destinations.
Lori, aren’t you supposed to be the responsible one? I texted after she sent me a very detailed Google Doc with driving directions and camping spots for the bus.
I am. That’s why I’m staying here to go to school while you be the irresponsible one driving cross-country like you’re in Eat Pray Love trying to get in touch with your inner self.
I gave up on texting Lori after that, but she made sure to check in every few minutes on Sunday with photos of where I’d be going to help convince me.
Please let me live vicariously through you, she texted before I went to bed, as a last-ditch effort to convince me.
Why don’t you come? I asked. If Lori could come, it would be much easier to say yes.
Summer classes say no. :(
And the conversation stopped there.
I still don’t feel any more convinced today than yesterday, but I take the bag of food from Gran and go back outside to the bus, giving Gran a quick hug and a thank you.
“All right, hop in,” Ethan says, holding the door open for me as I walk up. I put the bag of food in the passenger seat. “I’ll be driving in front of you. Just follow me, and if I see you get out my sight, I’ll pull over until you catch up. It’s a little over an hour to get there, but the view will be worth it.”
The bus is easier to drive than I thought it would be. Not that it’s a full-size bus by any standard. I’ve driven a pickup truck before, and that was much harder to handle than this. In comparison, the bus is just about the same as driving my mom’s van.
By the time we get to the trailhead, the parking lot is crowded, but there’s enough space for both of our vehicles. A couple of cars down, there’s a group getting ready for their hike, putting on their backpacks and checking their maps. It makes me feel a little naked because most of my gear is at the apartment. The hike is short enough that I’m able to get by with the small amount of gear I did pack.
I’m used to seeing an odd combination of snow and greenery. In New Hampshire, it’s typical to see greenery at the beginning of trails and then enter a winter wonderland once you get closer to the alpine zone. It’s part of the reason why the trails can be so dangerous for those who don’t do their proper research first. The White Mountains are notorious for having snow stick around until May or June. And in the winter months, it’s winter wonderland everywhere, all the time.
The difference with Washington is that it’s the middle of summer, and the sky is blue, but the mountain caps are still white. Not all white, but the snow is there.
“Ready to go?” Ethan says, jumping out of his car. He throws his day pack on, and I lock up the bus. It’s only as I’m putting my backpack on that I realize Gran told me to bring my hiking gear, not for a family hike, but for a road trip full of hiking that I had no idea of.
The start of the trail doesn’t disappoint. There are stone steps that greet us with a quote carved into them: “The most luxuriant and the most extravagantly beautiful of all the alpine gardens I ever beheld in all my mountain-top wanderings.” - John Muir, conservationist, 1889. There’s a mountaintop peeking up above the stairs, which I assume to be Mount Rainier, and while the world around me is green and lush, the summit is snowy and white as it ascends into the clouds. A thrill of excitement propels me forward up the steps. I breathe in, and oxygen flows through my body, making me practically jump with excitement.
I lead the way as we hike because I’m pretty sure Ethan’s definition of hiking is a little different from mine. His version of hiking is a flat stroll through the woods. Mine includes a little more uphill, and I’m happy to say this trail has plenty of that. Ethan lags behind, and we take frequent breaks so he can catch his breath from the uphill climb. It’s a slower pace than I’m used to, but I soak in the views while he struggles to catch up.
The mountains feel like a different planet. I’ve seen photos of mountains like this—lush greenery at my feet with snowy summits in the distance—but it’s different to have it in front of me. The mountain ridges off in the distance look like sharp stone, while back home, everything looks softer.
I keep my camera looped around my neck. I always debate bringing it. If it broke while hiking, I wouldn’t be ashamed to admit there would be a few tears. Partly because it’s so expensive, but also because then I’d have to hike the rest of the way without a nice camera to remember the view. Every time we stop to rest, I take a photo. And I’m taking a lot of photos, thanks to Ethan.
The rest of the trail isn’t as pristine as the steps that had greeted us. Yes, the views are spectacular the whole way, but the trail forms into a thin flat strip that slowly makes its ascent. It confuses me because I expected the trail terrain to be harder to hike, rocky trails like the ones in New Hampshire. Mount Rainier is different. I don’t have to look down at my feet, and I also don’t have to grasp rocks and branches to pull myself up. But despite the path being smooth, it still takes us up a steep elevation.
Ethan and I are about two miles in when we finally reach Panorama Point. I prepare myself to be underwhelmed. I’d done a lot of research online and seen a lot of photos of this meadow that made it look like some sort of dream sequence out of a movie. As someone who photographs nature on a regular basis, I know that catching that level of beauty is sometimes a matter of getting lucky. The weather conditions have to be just right, or the sun has to set in such a way that everything is glowing.
Panorama Point doesn’t disappoint. The meadow doesn’t need perfect conditions to be beautiful. There are rolling hills covered in foliage and trees, and behind those hills is the snow-capped mountain, looming over us in the distance. Countless flowers coat the edges of the trail with color. I keep walking a few more steps, soaking it all in. Purple flowers are scattered across the edges of the trail, along with some sort of white delicate alpine flower.
Panorama Point is located 6,910 feet above sea level, the highest I’ve ever climbed, and we’re still nowhere near the height that is Mount Rainier. It towers over us in the distance. The summit seems so close, yet so far. I stand there, stunne
d and astonished, and I’m left to wonder what it’s like to stand at the foot of Mount Everest.
I have a deep respect for the mountains, maybe in a way that most people wouldn’t understand unless they hike themselves. Standing at the base of such a massive structure makes me realize just how small and insignificant I am in comparison. Nature has a funny way of humbling us in that way.
“The quote wasn’t wrong,” I say.
“What quote?” Ethan says, out of breath. He’s kept his eyes on the ground for most of the hike, but he slows down now to look up.
“The one on the stairs. It is indeed an extravagant alpine garden,” I say, repeating the words.
Ethan nods, breathing deeply, trying to slow down his heart rate. “You got a timer on that thing?” he asks, pointing to my camera.
“Yeah, of course.” I look around until I find a rock I can use as a tripod. I direct Ethan on where to stand and click the button, running over and smiling as the shutter goes off.
“Need proof I did this,” he says, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. “And also, to see what all this looks like later when I’m enjoying a beer on the couch.” He shakes his head and turns 360 degrees to take it all in. “Damn!” he says, finally seeing the view for the first time.
We eat lunch, enjoying the view surrounding us, before continuing the hike. About five and a half miles in, we reach Myrtle Falls. A bridge goes over the falls, making it even more stunning, not to mention the fact that Mount Rainier is looming still in the background. Water cascades over rocks in thin streams that come together in a pool of water at the bottom. It’s not the tallest nor the largest waterfall I’ve ever seen, but still, it possesses a type of beauty that demands to be seen.
We stay at the waterfall for a long time, not because it’s the best view of the day, but because I know we only have a half-mile left until we get to the car, and I’m not sure I’m ready to say goodbye yet. We still have a couple hours before I need to be at the airport anyways.
In some ways, this was one of the most beautiful hikes I’ve been on, and the fact that it’s my first hike in months makes getting back out into the mountains even better. I felt light walking along the trail in ways that I never thought I’d be able to feel again. It’s like I had my life back, right where things had left off.
Sitting in front of the waterfall now, watching the water rush down to the earth, grounds me and allows me to forget. I can pretend my parents didn’t die all I want back home, but the pain is always there, lingering in the back of my mind. Here on the mountain, I’m free.
“Your mom brought your dad to this trail when they were first dating,” Ethan says, breaking the silence.
I raise my eyebrows. “My mom brought my dad on a hike?”
“I’m pretty sure it was your mom who got him into hiking in the first place, actually,” Ethan says with a chuckle. “She brought him home after they were dating a couple of months so he could meet the rest of her family. I think she wanted to show off her home state. As far as I’m aware, this was the only big hike she did, but she loved this trail.”
“It was probably the flowers,” I say.
“No, I don’t think that was it,” Ethan says. “I think it had more to do with the air. There’s so much air here. A lot of people hike this trail, but despite how crowded it can be, it still feels open.”
I’m listening to the waterfall, and I can feel that open air. I draw in a deep breath, feeling my lungs expand as I let myself breathe. All at once, I want to cry, like my chest is being cracked open. I bite my lip, trying to keep myself silent, but a tear flows down my cheek, and for once I feel free.
Chapter 7
“So the bus…” Ethan says when we get back to the trailhead. It’s there, waiting for us among the cars in the parking lot. The teal color pops against its surroundings, and I even catch myself pulling out my camera to take a photo because the mountains in the background make the bus look like it’s modeling the scenery.
“So the plane ticket I bought,” I say with a soft laugh.
“I’ll buy your plane ticket off you,” Ethan offers.
“That’s stupid.”
“So is missing the opportunity to travel across the country. Which, might I remind you, is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
I huff a small breath and walk up to the bus. I want to go. I want to get in the bus and drive to all the places I’ve always wanted to visit for no other reason than seeing the view. But I also know myself, and I don’t like to be alone for long periods of time. Alone means having time to think, and having time to think usually leads to overthinking.
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea,” I tell him.
“Why?” He leans against the bus.
I bite my lip, mostly because I don’t want to admit to him that I’m afraid of being alone. Because I’ve purposefully spent the last nine months surrounding myself with people and things to do so my mind wouldn’t have the opportunity to realize that I won’t ever see my parents again.
“I wouldn’t know where to go,” I say.
“Set the GPS on your phone for your apartment address and follow the directions,” Ethan says.
I give him a look that warns him against using further sarcasm. “Ethan, I’m not the spontaneous type of person. I like to plan things and have a clear direction, and then have steps to get there.”
“Which is exactly why you need to go on this trip! To learn to let go and just go with the flow!” Ethan says, raising his arms enthusiastically.
I’m looking at the bus again, and I’m getting frustrated, not because Ethan is being annoying, but because I really want to try living in the bus. How many videos have I watched of YouTubers living out of a converted van or bus? This was the type of dream I’d been 99% sure would never come true.
“Marly, if you were really against it, I would let it go, and I would drive you to that airport to get on that plane, but I can see the way you look at this bus, and I can see your mind churning.” He makes a weird gesture with his hands. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but I do know you’re not thinking about how much you look forward to going to work on Wednesday.”
I take a deep breath and let myself consider it. I’d have to buy more clothes. And probably more hiking supplies if I really wanted to make the drive worth it. My body is a little out of shape after avoiding hiking for months, but I could jump back into things in no time. “How long can this thing go off-grid before the batteries need to be recharged?”
“Only a day or two, but you can recharge at campgrounds. The fridge is big enough for a couple days’ worth of food, and the camping stove is pretty versatile once you get used to it.” Ethan’s words get faster as he talks because he knows he finally has me.
“And if I break down?” I ask.
“You won’t. The engine is completely rebuilt, and I’ve test-driven it quite a bit to make sure all is well. Tires are also brand new, but if you run into any issues, give me a call, and I’ll figure something out.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How?”
“I have connections.” He pats the hood of the truck, unwilling to reveal his source.
“This isn’t the responsible thing to do,” I say, but I can feel the doubt in my voice. If I let myself envision it, I can see myself driving away in the bus, but when I picture myself setting up to sleep in it at night, alone, a bit of panic creeps into my chest.
“Neither is dropping out of college.”
“Look who’s talking!” I say, my voice on the verge of laughter.
“You’ll drive it home?” he asks, already knowing the answer.
I peer into the window, eyeing the couch. Even when my parents were alive, I never camped out alone. My dad was with me for every camping trip, but those were in tents in the middle of the woods. We had to hang our food in bags from trees to keep it away from bears. Ma
ybe a campground wouldn’t be as bad. One where I’m surrounded by other campers instead of bears.
“I’ll ask for a few more days off,” I say, already trying to do the math in my head of how long it would take to drive straight home. A couple of days if I really rushed it. Maybe a week?
“Which means….” He leaves the sentence hanging.
“I’ll drive it home,” I say, and he smiles in celebration. “But that’s it. You’re going to need to come to New Hampshire to drive the bus back yourself.”
“If you want to give it back, that is,” Ethan counters. His face lights up because he’s won.
“You’ll need to come get it,” I repeat.
“We’ll see,” he says, laughing as he pulls open the door of the bus to give me a complete overview of every inch and feature.
§
Ethan helped me pick out a campground to sleep in for the night. It’s odd seeing him drive off in a different direction than me, and even worse, it feels like I didn’t get to say goodbye to everyone because I really did intend to fly home today.
Reality kicks in almost immediately when Ethan’s car is out of sight. To say I don’t know what I’m doing is a pretty big understatement, but Ethan assures me that all I need to do is take some time at a campground to make a game plan. I set my GPS for the address he gave me and start a drive that will last about three hours.
I avoid thinking about my current situation, hyperaware that I now have to make a phone call to my job to tell them that not only am I not going to be there Wednesday, but also not at all next week. Before I have a chance to panic over that phone call, I blast music as loud as I can, driving down a highway I’ve never been on before.