by Mandi Lynn
My dad had picked out the hike for Lamar Valley. In fact, it was the first Yellowstone hike that was added into the notebook. I’d picked the hike today, not only because I thought Lori would enjoy it, but because I thought perhaps I’d feel my dad here. But I don’t.
For a moment, I feel that deep, painful mourning that I haven’t felt in months. I’m painfully aware of my parents being gone forever and that the hiking trails on that list aren’t something happy anymore. The list is just a reminder of everything I’ve lost. And as soon as the emotion is there, it’s replaced with anger at myself for being so selfish, for being sad about the hikes, when that’s just a tiny drop in the bucket of what I’ve lost.
I bite my lip because I’m not sure what else there is to do to stop the tears. I start crying before I’m fully aware of what’s happening. Tears flow down my face in streams, and my breathing gets heavier. I try to focus on that, to concentrate on the ins and outs of my lungs, but the harder I try, the more I fall apart.
And then I think about the fact that any moment someone might come walking down this trail and see us sitting on the bridge. Not only are we blocking it because it’s too narrow to get by with people sitting on it, but I’m crying, and I wish I weren’t. I wish I could turn it off and make it stop just as easily as it had started.
“You okay?” Lori says, turning to me. I glance up, and I feel broken, as if pieces of myself have been strewn across the mountains, never to return. When I blink, the tears come rushing forward like a cascade of water, and I feel myself being torn open.
Lori reaches out and wraps her arms around me. I’m crying in that sort of uncontrollable sob because I feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t know what I’m doing here or why I’m in the middle of a hike so far away. I want to go home, but when I imagine it, it’s the house where my parents lived. The house where they aren’t anymore, and where they’ll never be again. So where’s my home now?
“They’re not here anymore,” I say, trying to control my breathing. It’s like I’m learning about their deaths all over again. As if the past nine months weren’t enough, going on this hike that my dad had picked out is what pulled me into reality.
“I know,” Lori says, her voice soft. She’s still holding onto me, but her grip loosens a bit. “Let’s keep walking.” She allows me to take a few breaths before she starts to get up, offering her hand. I take it, and we walk while the tears are still streaming down my face. There’s another group of hikers coming, and I’m thankful Lori spotted them before they see us. “Just take a breath.”
I let out a deep breath, feeling my body release some tension as I do so. We walk for a few minutes in silence until the other hikers have come and passed, and we’re alone again.
“My dad picked out this hike. It’s in the notebook,” I say.
Lori glances over, and her eyes light up with surprise.
“I want to do more hikes on that list,” I say, looking at the ground. “Some of the ones he picked out.” I want to be able to feel my dad here with me. Surely, if I do one more hike, maybe more, I’ll be able to sense him.
“Okay, so let’s plan one,” Lori says, smiling. “When we get back to the campground, we can pick one out from the notebook.”
“I want to try one in Colorado,” I say.
Lori grins, in a way that I’ve never seen her smile before. “I think you’ll love that.”
I smile, but it’s broken when I remember that my job is still waiting for me. “I think I need to quit my job,” I say. It feels like there’s no other option at this point. I can’t call out for another week when I have no idea how long it will be until I’m back.
“Girl, you needed to quit that job ages ago!” Lori laughs, and I feel lighter, like maybe this is what I’m supposed to do. “Okay, just make it official,” she says, putting her hand out. She always confirms promises with handshakes rather than pinkies. Too girly, she says. She likes to keep it business professional.
I roll my eyes, and she wiggles her fingers, waiting, eyebrows raised, trying to challenge me.
“Okay,” I say again, taking her hand for an official promise-sealing handshake. “I quit.”
“Bison and a handshake,” Lori says. “It’s been a truly productive day.”
Chapter 11
“Hello?” John answers the phone, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit he sounds slightly annoyed already. Off to a great start.
“Hi, John, it’s Marly. I’m still stuck here in Washington.” I glance over to Lori, who’s giving me a smile of encouragement. She said when I quit, I should still pull the family card and gain the sympathy points. “Things are taking longer to resolve than I thought, and I’m not sure when I’ll be able to make it back. I wanted to call to let you know I think it’s best that I resign.” I try to say the words confidently, but Lori makes a face at my choice of words.
There’s a loud huff on the other end, and then a groan. I can almost picture him, sitting in the office, pushing himself up to stand, annoyed and pissed off.
“It would have been better to know that sooner,” is all he says.
“I know, I’m sorry, I really tried to figure things out,” I rattle on while Lori rolls her eyes, a low laugh reaching her lips.
“Okay, well, good luck,” he says, annoyance still there.
“Thank you,” I say, but the line cuts off before I’m able to finish. I pull the phone away from my face, staring at it.
“Is that it?” Lori asks, still watching me.
“I guess so.” I place the phone on the bus counter.
“Well, now that’s over with, time to take me to the airport,” Lori says, getting up from the couch and moving to the passenger seat.
A little over an hour later, I drop Lori off at her terminal.
“You’re allowed to text me whenever,” she says as I hand off her suitcase. “Even in the middle of the night. I’ll leave my phone on twenty-four/seven, so I can answer the phone whenever you need me. And FaceTime me too! I’ll expect a text at least once a day, so I know you’re not dead.”
“I will,” I say. I want to say more, but I can already feel the dread of being alone creeping in, and she’s not even gone yet. The bus was tight with two of us living in it for a couple of days, and while I’ll enjoy having the extra space again, I’m not sure it will be any easier to be alone.
“Okay, love you. I’ll text you when I land,” she says in a final hug.
“I’ll text you when I get to my camping spot for tonight.” It will take over ten hours to get to the Rocky Mountains from here, so I plan on finding a spot to sleep somewhere halfway. Tonight will be my first night off-grid. Lori helped me find the camping spot on an app we downloaded that shows you places where it’s safe to park overnight without fees or police knocking on your windows.
“Good luck!” she shouts as she backs away and through the doors to the airport. And just like that, I’m alone in a sea of people.
§
I turn on an audiobook to give me something to get lost in. The drive is easy, and I stay on one highway for the most part, so the five hours go by faster than I anticipate.
My parking spot for the night is… less than magical. I arrive at the Walmart parking lot at 9 p.m. with the sun long gone from the sky. Lori and I had called in advance to double-check that it would be safe to park overnight, and they said they allowed it. So here I am, setting up camp in a Walmart parking lot.
I put the pop-up out and make myself dinner, putting the portable stove on the counter and opening the windows to get some ventilation. I play music on my phone while I wait for my food to heat up, and try to stay hopeful for the trip and give it a genuine attempt.
The night is unexciting. I text Lori to let her know I arrived, and Lori texts me back, saying she made it home as well. I also text Ethan a photo of the bus parked in front of Walmart.
The bus wanted to take me to Colorado. Lori told me about your master plan to make me want to travel in it for a while. I guess it worked. Quit my job today.
I hit send on the message, assuming I won’t hear from him until morning, but the response from Ethan is almost immediate.
Way to go, kiddo! Knew you’d love it! Walmart tonight, Rocky Mountains tomorrow!
I smile, but the loneliness is still there at the edge of my mind.
Once I’m settled, I pull out my laptop, connecting to a hotspot hosted by my phone. Logging into my stock photo account for the first time in days, I see that only twenty of the sixty-three photos I uploaded were accepted. And of those accepted photos, they were only downloaded five times. I’m a whole $1.25 richer than before. I try to ignore the disappointment and submit more photos for review, uploading almost every photo from our trip to Yellowstone. This includes the bison photos and a few various geysers, some more colorful than others. I’m not sure how often people are looking for Yellowstone stock photos, but if they are, I’ve got it covered. I end up closing out of the website and turn to trusty old Netflix until I fall asleep, which feels like many episodes later.
The drive the next day is almost as uneventful as the first day, with lots of highway and an audiobook that I finish when there are still two hours left in the drive. Lucky for me, that’s also when the Rocky Mountains can be seen in the distance. It’s just after lunch when I arrive at the campground that will be my new home for the next day or two.
It’s a collection of flat pieces of land with electrical and water hookups. There are a few porta-potties scattered around, but that’s about it.
I already have a hike planned for tomorrow with a group of people I’d found on Facebook. I joined the group Lori discovered and was about to make a post myself when I found someone else looking for a group of hikers to join them. It was someone named Stacey Palm, and as far as I was aware, at least four other hikers were joining us in the morning. It wasn’t a 14er, but I wanted to work my way up to a hike that big. Lori was ecstatic. I think she hopes I’ll bond with someone in the group and drag the poor stranger to hike a 14er.
Hey, everyone good with a start time of 7 am still? Stacey had started a group chat with us. I noticed my phone going off when I was driving, a notification pinging every now and then. The hike is Ouzel Lake Trail, which happens to be one of many alpine lake hikes on my list. In the group chat, people are mostly talking about where to meet, what time, and double-checking that the pace of the hike would be good for everyone in the group.
Works for me, someone named Allie responds. A few others respond after Allie. I’m the last one to chime in.
Me too, I add in.
Cool! Okay, see you all at the trailhead. We’ll take our time getting to the lake and eat lunch once we’re there. BYOB (+food).
Someone named Dylan responds with a beer emoji, and that’s the last thing anyone says for the night.
The odd thing about meeting up with strangers is that you have no clue who you’re looking for. The next morning I find the trailhead easily, but unfortunately for me, most people like to start hiking at 7 a.m., making it hard to tell which group of hikers is the group I’m meeting with.
Just pulled in. Black Nissan, Stacey messages the group chat. I’m already parked by the time I get the message, but I can see her car. Or at least, I think it’s her car. It would be more helpful if she owned an exotic car—or at least not a black SUV that looks like half the ones already in the lot.
Stacey, assuming it’s Stacey, is out of her car and grabbing her stuff from her trunk by the time I walk over. She’s older than me, maybe in her early thirties. She’s slim, with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail with bright orange sunglasses propped up on her head.
A guy gets out of the passenger side of the car, and he looks somewhat closer to my age, maybe a little older. He’s taller than Stacey, with a broader build, but he doesn’t glance up as he walks over. Instead his face is buried in his phone.
“Are you Stacey?” I ask.
“Oh! Hey,” she says, turning around. “Yeah, that’s me. And this is my brother, Dylan.” She points at him. He looks up from his phone and gives me a quick smile. “I think there are three others joining us today. Trent, Allie, and Molly.”
“Trent just texted me saying he’s running a little late,” Dylan says, putting his phone in his pocket.
“That’s fine, we’ve got plenty of time today,” Stacey says. She turns to me, sitting on the back of her car while she puts on her hiking boots. “Have you hiked this trail before?”
“No, I’m actually not from around here. I live in New Hampshire, so the Whites are my backyard,” I tell her.
“Really?” she says, smiling. “I hear those mountains are pretty brutal. You hike the Presidentials?”
“Anything above four thousand feet, I’ve done it,” I say. I’m not sure if I’m boasting as the words come out. Hikers can be one of two things, extremely kind and helpful, or egomaniacs who think hiking is a contest to see who can hike the fastest and highest.
Stacey smiles, kicking her feet out after tying her laces. “This hike will probably be pretty easy for you, then. The trails here are smooth for the most part. I’ve never hiked in New Hampshire, but Dylan has, and he said you guys don’t know that trails are supposed to be walkable, not climbable.”
I laugh, and Dylan glances over. “What trail were you hiking?” I ask him.
“Huntington Ravine to get to Washington,” he tells me, leaning against the side of the car.
“Well, there’s the problem right there. The Whites have some brutal trails, but Huntington Ravine is probably the worst. I haven’t done it myself because I like taking Ammonoosuc Ravine to the summit.”
His gaze lingers on me before he grins. “Next time I’m in the area, you’ll have to show me so I can learn the proper way to enjoy hiking in New Hampshire.” His phone rings, and he frowns. “Sorry, one minute,” he says, turning away to answer.
Stacey pulls out her daypack. “Dylan has been trying to get Trent to go hiking with him, and this is a good introductory hike. Bad thing is that Trent also isn’t the best navigator to this area.”
“Do you know the other girls that are coming?” I ask.
“No, they just saw my post in the Facebook group. I like to meet new people, and hikers are my favorite type of people, so sometimes I do these meetups. You planning on hiking any 14ers while you’re in the area?” Stacey asks.
“I think so,” I say, less confident. I don’t have an exact mountain picked out from my notebook, mostly because I know nothing about hiking at that elevation and challenge level. I have this huge, maybe irrational fear that I’ll pick out the wrong 14,000-footer, and then realize how over my head I am and never want to hike one again. So yeah, maybe an irrational fear that’s slightly rational.
“I’ve got a few recommendations when you’re ready,” Stacey says. She gets up from her car and waves to someone behind me. I turn and two girls are walking over. “You guys Allie and Molly?”
“That’s us!” a blonde girl says. The size of their bags makes it look like they’re ready to go backpacking rather than take a day hike, so I assume they overpacked a little. Unless they took Stacey’s BYOB comment seriously, and they’ve each got a six-pack in their bags.
Dylan walks back over to Stacey. “Trent’s pulling in now. He thought he was lost, but he wasn’t,” he says, shaking his head.
“Perfect, we’re all here then.”
It takes us all a few more minutes to gather around and make sure we have everything we need. Stacey goes through the plan for the day and lets everyone know they can turn back at any time if they need to. From what I can tell, I’m the only outsider in the group. Allie and Molly are glued to each other’s sides, so I’m 99% sure they’re already friends, but they’re social and try to make conversation wi
th everyone. They’re the least experienced, and Molly asks most of the questions, double-checking she packed the right gear. She definitely overpacked, with everything but a tent in her backpack. Before we take off, she opens her bag and I can see what looks like at least five liters of water, which is a little much to carry, especially when the destination is a lake, and you have a water filter.
Stacey and Dylan are siblings, and Trent is friends with Dylan. Trent seems enthusiastic to hike but only has a water bottle and no backpack. I overhear Dylan making fun of him and saying he’s carrying food for the both of them.
“Okay, let’s head out!” Stacey leads us down the trail.
It stays flat for a long time, making me question when the uphill will come. I hike with Stacey toward the front, Allie and Molly behind us, and then Dylan and Trent bring up the rear. Stacey stops occasionally to check on everyone, and eventually, she ushers me to lead the way. We set a good pace, slower than what I’d do for a trail this flat, but enjoyable nonetheless.
“Was that VW bus in the parking lot yours?” Stacey asks.
I slow my pace as the trail incline picks up. We’re about halfway to the lake, and the terrain is getting closer to what I’m used to back home. “Guilty,” I say.
“That’s awesome. You said you’re from New Hampshire, right? So did you drive all the way here from New Hampshire?” Stacey asks.
“No, that’s where I’m going. I was visiting family in Washington when I picked up the bus, and now I’m driving home to New Hampshire,” I say, trying to keep the explanation as simple as possible.
“Nothing like a little detour to the Rockies. How’re you enjoying it so far?” Stacey keeps pace with me, but she glances back occasionally, making sure no one is falling behind.