I miss roasting Sadie, and the way she’s not afraid to roast me right back.
I want to talk to her again. And I hate that I want that, because it’s a very bad idea: I’m on the job, I need to stay alert—trek flings are against the rules for a reason. All of these people are depending on me.
But it’s only human nature to crave connection.
Fish and flowers can’t fight the natural order of things, so what makes me think I’m any different?
12SADIE
If Caden could see me now, trampling through the wilderness with this planet-sized backpack strapped to my shoulders, I think he’d fall over from shock. He truly didn’t think I had it in me to break out of my comfort zone, didn’t think I’d ever put myself in a position where I might not excel at something right off the bat.
This is anything but comfortable.
My body hurts; my feet, my legs, my butt, my back, my shoulders. I’ve also had another headache today, despite popping an Advil and trying my best to stay hydrated. I’m itchy, and sweaty, and despite my trifecta of weapons meant to combat the natural elements—dry shampoo, deodorant, Viktor & Rolf Flowerbomb—I am in desperate need of a shower (or, in lieu of that, a dip in a lake).
I feel the sudden urge to text Abby, reassure her that I’m still alive. My phone probably still has a sliver of battery power—I gave it a little charge this morning—but I doubt I’d get a signal out here. I’ll have to dig it out of my bag later, once we’re settled.
I imagine Abby back at the JW Marriott pool, flirting with Jonathan while she waits for her spicy margarita. Have they kissed yet? My gut saysno, but I’d love to be wrong. If I had to guess what she’s doing right this minute, I’d say she’s probably stretched out on her lounger, reading a magazine or a novel as the sun beams down, the spa just a few steps away.
I do miss the spa.
And, obviously, Abby herself.
And the drinks.
I’m still dreaming of ice-cold everything when we crest the hill we’ve been climbing for hours and, suddenly, my breath catches—
The view down below isstunning.
When Thorn said we’d be staying at a lake for the next two nights, my mind filled in the lakes I’m used to in the Texas Hill Country: murky and muddy and surrounded by tall grass, maybe some cattle, a huge blue sky as far as you can see.
This lake is nothing like that.
This lake is glittering and gorgeous, nestled in the valley of a pair of rocky mountains that cut into the horizon. Overhead, the sky is still blue, there’s just less of it—but it somehow feels likemorewith how it’s reflecting on the water. Wildflowers bloom in chaotic patches that have grown up between craggy rocks; the trees, too, feel similar, tall evergreens that rim the jagged lakeline in scattered thickets. A row of brightly colored kayaks sits near the edge of the lake, their yellows and reds and ceruleans at striking odds with the natural landscape.
“Wow,” I breathe.
Only when Thorn responds—a low, quiet hum of agreement—do I realize the back of the pack has closed the gap between us. Our entire group gathers at the top of the hill to take in the view.
“Congratulations, everyone!” Thorn says. “That wasnotan easy climb. But the good news is, we’ve got a couple of days to rest and recover. We’ll be spending the next two nights here, so let’s go over some ground rules.”
We can make campfires at our base camp, but not at any higher altitudes due to park rules.
Our tents should be set up in groups of two or three in the designated spots, and—for our own safety—reasonably close together.
Don’t go exploring alone, don’t go exploring toofar, never leave base camp without telling Thorn or Matteo exactly what the plans are.
We’ll do a few group activities each day, including kayaking for anyone who wants to participate. We’ll have meals together at noon and in the evenings; we’re on our own for breakfast. In just a little while, after we set up camp, we’ll have a group activity: fishing, followed by a cookout.
“Thorn?” Zoe interjects, startling all of us.
He raises his eyebrows as if to saygo on.
She glances nervously around the group, her gaze skipping quickly past Joshua’s. “If anyone wants to do sunrise yoga, I’m a certified instructor. Meet me down by the lake tomorrow morning if you want to try it.”
“Oh!” Thorn says, pleasantly surprised—and probably relieved—that she sounds enthusiastic about something. “Sure, yes. Great idea. Thank you, Zoe.”
We head down into the valley to set up camp.
