5THORN
Hours later, the voices have fallen silent behind me.
It’s my favorite part of the day: robin’s-egg blue skies fading to an endless expanse of lavender, the sounds of jays and chickadees and Western Tanagers settling in for the night amid the hum of insects. Off in the distance, a bubbling stream carves through the rugged terrain. It’s nature as it’s meant to be.
But then Matteo’s yelling something from far behind me, his voice piercing through the calm dusk.
So much for serenity.
“What?” I call out. “What happened?”
“Can we hold up for a sec?” he shouts. “Hunter’s getting a photo!”
A photo? Aphoto? The way Matteo shouted made it sound like someone had passed out.
Sure enough, one of the coffee bros has stepped off the path (into some tall grass, which Matteo should have warned him to stay clear of) and is aiming his telephoto lens at the trees.
I rub a hand over my face. I get wanting to have photos of nature—there’s a lot of beauty out here, obviously—but photography gear can beheavy. Sadie’s not the only one who could’ve packed lighter.
“Good to go!” Hunter calls out a minute later, raising his camera as if to toast the occasion. “Thanks, y’all! There was this bird I justhadto get a shot of!”
Suddenly I understand why the back of the pack has been so far behind us all afternoon. There will be five hundred more birds, and if we stop for him to photograph every one of them, we will never stay on track. It’s the same reason I take issue with people who are constantly on their phones: it slows everything down, not to mention it’s hazardous when they’re not paying attention to where they’re stepping. Too many people watch the world through their camera lenses instead of letting themselves justbein the moment.
But I keep my thoughts to myself, and we press on.
I could travel this trail a thousand times and it would never look the same. Ihavetraveled it a thousand times. My dad took me all over the national parks as a kid, but this one was always his favorite. Taking a job as a hiking guide was a natural fit when I eventually needed work—I know every bend in the trail, every river, every lake. I know how the air shifts when a storm is brewing and how the landscape changes with the seasons; I could navigate Valerie Forest National Park without a compass while half asleep at this point.
Not only do I know these trails, though, I love them.
And I love helpingotherpeople fall in love with this place.
All of my very best memories happened out here—
Fishing lessons with my dad at Mackenzie Lake: I’ve always been the unluckiest fisherman on the planet, but that never seemed to bother him.
Stargazing with my dad: how he taught me to spot Orion and Cassiopeia and the Pleiades, and how it was our tradition to wish on shooting stars whenever either one of us had a birthday.
My dad and I getting caught in a rainstorm—my mom was there for that one, too.
Even before my parents divorced during my sophomore year of college, my mom rarely came hiking with us…and my dad’s trail days are long behind him. Now it’s up to me to keep our traditions alive, noting in my journal all the things I know my dad will appreciate, like subtle differences in the landscape and birds I spot along the way.
I haven’t told him this yet—haven’t toldanyone, especially not Danica—but my days out here might also be numbered.
It was two months ago when a man named Sky Ranger (his real name; I checked) came on one of my hikes. He owns a number of backpacking tour operations across the States—Virginia, Hawaii, Texas, Arizona—and was on a mission to hike every national park in the country. He didn’t come looking for a new employee, but at the end of our two weeks together, he pulled me aside and told me how impressed he was with my outdoorsmanship and leadership instincts. Said I could name my location—my price, too—and that I had a standing job offer to come work for him anytime.Just think it over, he told me, tucking a business card in the palm of my hand.
Well, I’m still thinking it over. Figured he’d go home and forget about me like everyone else does when they get back to the real world. They always say they’ll keep in touch, but never do.
I assumed I’d never hear from him again. But then the email hit my inbox, today, just before we set off on this hike.Told my business partner about you, Sky wrote.Offer’s still on the table if you want it—let me know.
This was right on the heels of Danica’s effusive praise, a text she sent after our phone call thanking me for being the most reliable guide she’s ever had.
I’ve never left her in a bind due to being stranded on vacation.
I’vedefinitelynever ditched my responsibilities to relocate to Peru on a whim.
It would be so much easier to say yes to Sky if I didn’t love it so much out here, if I didn’t have deep personal ties to the land itself—and if I didn’t care so much about Danica and the tour company. Our ratings recently took a hit due to some not-so-reliable (since fired) tour guides, which means Danica’s income has also taken a hit.
If I were to leave, it might be the company’s kiss of death.
