Total pages in book: 198
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 931(@200wpm)___ 745(@250wpm)___ 621(@300wpm)
“Eleven miles one way?” She made a noise that sounded almost like a laugh but mostly like she thought I was fucking nuts.
“Yeah, suck it up. I can do this. You know where I’m at; I’ll be fine. I’m not doing what my mom did and doing a different hike without telling anyone. I’ll leave my phone on; the battery is fully charged. I’ve got my whistle and my pepper spray. I’m good.”
Clara made another hesitating sound. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
She sighed deeply, still hesitating.
“Don’t feel bad. But also don’t laugh at me if I can’t walk tomorrow, deal?”
“I wouldn’t laugh at you . . .”
I knew she wouldn’t. “I’ll text you if I get service and when I’m done, all right?”
“Will you tell Rhodes too?”
That made me smile. “He already knows.”
“All right then. I’m sorry, Aurora. I promise I didn’t know this was going to happen.”
“Stop apologizing. It’s okay.”
She groaned. “Okay. I’m sorry. I feel like a piece of shit.”
I paused. “You should.” We both laughed. “I’m kidding! Let me call him real quick and then get started.”
She wished me good luck, and we hung up right after that. I waited a second and then called Rhodes. It rang and rang, and after a moment, his voice mail picked up.
I left him a quick message. “Hi. I’m at the trailhead. Clara’s having car trouble and won’t be able to make it for at least another three hours, so I’m going to do the hike alone after all. There are two cars parked in the lot. Their license plates are . . .” I peeked at them and rolled off the letters and numbers. “The skies are bright blue. The road was really sketchy, but I got it done. I’m going to do this as fast as I can but still try and pace myself because I know the way out might kill me. I’ll see you later. Have a good day at work and good luck with those poaching assholes. Bye!”
I started the hike with a smile on my face even though my soul felt a little heavier than normal, but not for bad reasons. Missing my mom made me sad, but that wasn’t a bad thing. I just hoped she knew I still missed her and thought of her.
I put my phone on airplane mode so it wouldn’t start roaming and drain the battery in no time. I’d learned that shit the hard way months ago. I could check it again once I got started going up.
Despite the cool temperature, the sun was bright and beautiful, the sky the bluest thing I’d ever seen. I couldn’t have asked for a better day to do this, I knew. Maybe Mom had worked it out to cheer me up.
That thought lifted me up even higher.
Despite losing my breath after the first fifteen minutes and having to stop a lot more often than I would have wanted, I kept going. I took my time, had to peel my jacket off after a little bit, and kept an eye on my watch but tried not to stress about all my stops. The entire back of my shirt ended up soaked with sweat where the backpack rested, and that too was no big deal. I checked my phone every other pit stop and didn’t find service. I just kept on going. One step in front of another, enjoying the incredible scent of the wilderness because that’s exactly what this was.
I was in the middle of millions of acres of national forest all by myself, and as much as I would have enjoyed company, on today of all days, doing this gave me chills.
I imagined my mom taking this very same trail thirty-something years ago, and it made me smile. Her notes didn’t specify which way she’d started the hike—there were two ways to get to the lake, one of which was the path I was on now and the other was the one I’d taken last time—but regardless, she was here. These trees had given her some sort of peace, I’d like to think.
I was pretty sure she’d done it by herself too, and that made me smile wider. It’d be even better to have Clara here . . . even better to have Rhodes with me or Am, but maybe it was meant to be for me to tackle this alone. To do this one last trip by myself like I’d started. I had wanted this move to Colorado to be me reconnecting with my mom, and nothing could have prepared me for the changes I’d made in the months since. They had made me stronger. Better.
Happier.
Sure, I’d still scream if a bat snuck back into the house or if I saw another mouse, but I knew I’d be able to figure out a solution if it happened. Maybe you didn’t have to get over your fears completely to conquer them. Maybe if you just faced them in general that counted. Or at least that’s what I wanted to believe.