9 MIDNIGHT HIKE
The four of us take in the gloaming as the forest darkens and the bird song goes silent.
The sound of insects rises behind the crackling fire.
The atmosphere reminds me of my uncle pulling out his guitar and playing John Denver songs while my family, including aunts, uncles, and grandparents, sang along.
Those types of vacations ended when I joined the Navy after high school.
When I left the service and returned to civilian life, my career took all my focus.
I settled in Texas, and that’s when my road-warrior lifestyle began.
Thinking back, I’m unsure when I stopped seeking solace in nature, like I had in my youth.
The memories of my family return my thoughts to when Stacy and I visited in the spring.
I glance at Ginny, and it strikes me how similar her looks are to Stacy’s.
Ginny is older by a decade than when we’d dated in high school, but my mind has closed that gap with imagination.
My dream of her stirs in my thoughts as I poke at the glowing embers.
“What time is it?” I ask aloud after our conversation hits a lull, and the four of us stare into the dwindling campfire’s dancing flames.
“Getting close to ten,” Amy says, nuzzling against my shoulders. “We should start putting out the fire and make it look like we’re going to bed in the tents.”
“That sounds nice.” Bea nods, smiling at Ginny. “It’s been a busy day. I could use some downtime before the hike.”
I glance at Amy, and she returns my gaze as she nods. “Need to get some water out of that old thing.” She points to the one-armed water pump. “I left a bucket under the picnic table.”
“Ginny, want to help me?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says, standing and brushing off her bottom.
She’s getting increasingly quiet as the night wears on.
It would be good to talk with her alone since we’re both anticipating what’s to come.
I take her hand while Bea and Amy fold up the chairs.
Grabbing the bucket as we pass the picnic table, we stroll down the curved slope to the outhouse and pump.
“We’ll get the tents ready,” Amy says as we depart. “Gotta make it look right for the park rangers.”
Raising my hand, I wave to show her I heard her, then turn to Ginny. “I’m sorry we haven’t spent much time together since you arrived.”
“Oh, I understand.” She tilts her head and combs a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Given what’s happened between us all, it’s understandable. Spending time with Bea driving back mountains was great. I also had the opportunity to spend time with Paige on the way down. She’s wonderful.”
We go quiet as we approach the pump. Both of us seem lost in thought. I hand her the bucket and grab the old cast-iron hand. “Just hold it under the spigot. I’ll do the hard work.”
“Good,” Ginny says. “I’ll rest up and do my part when we reach whatever it’s called.”
Her smile is muted as she bites the side of her lip, watching me pull down the handle and then push it back up. The old two-stroke pump draws the water from the well slowly but doesn’t need priming. After a few strokes, the first splash of cold water flows from the mouth into the bucket.
“I think we’re calling it the altar.” I shrug. “It’s an interesting place. I can’t describe the feeling I experienced the first two times I’ve been there.”
“I’m not used to such a dense forest.” She surveys the Douglas fir forest along the back of the campground opposite the dark lake.
“It’s a lot different than Texas, that’s for sure.” I grin. The full moon is rising into the sky behind the stand of trees, casting a glow over the campground as I keep filling the bucket. She gazes up into the sky and gasps.
“There are so many stars!”
“No artificial lights to mask the night sky’s brightness,” I reply, then shrug. “Sorry, I can’t help explaining things. I love being this deep in the mountains. It just makes everything simpler.”
“What’s that?” she asks, pointing to the arc of stars across the sky. “Is it the Milky Way?”
“Yep, that’s our galaxy, or the parts of it we can see.” I grin. “Makes me feel small when I remember each pinprick of light is a star like our sun.”
“Feeling small isn’t always a bad thing,” she says as the last pump of water spills down the side of the bucket. “Sometimes being with you makes me feel small, but in a protected way. Like, I know you’ll take care of me.”
Releasing the pump handle, I grab the bucket with one hand, drape my free arm around her shoulders, and hug her.
“I will, Ginny. I promise.” Brushing a kiss on her forehead as she rests against my chest, we pause momentarily, looking at the forest around us.
The filled bucket is heavy, and I fix my grip.
“We’d better put that fire out,” I say, taking her hand.
“So we can start another?” she giggles, squeezing my hand.
“Something like that.” I smirk.
“How long is the hike?” she asks, rubbing her free hand along my forearm. “I’ve done plenty of hiking but never in the dead of night.”
“It’s about two miles to the spring.” I wave at the trailhead down the slope toward the lake. “The trail is well maintained, and most of the pathway is open along the lava plain. The full moon and stars will give us plenty of light.”
“It’s magical. I’m amazed by the beauty and love the company of your family.”
“It’s our family,” I say as we approach our campground. Bea and Amy stand by the fire and turn when I step on a twig. “You’re part of us. Right?”
“I will be in a few hours.” She grins, then lets go of my hand and wraps her arms around Bea.
Dribbling the water around the fire until the flames are extinguished, I pour the rest over the smoldering coals.
The three girls stand with me as the last wisps of smoke rise from the sputtering ashes.
Amy kicks at the pile of embers, scattering the ashes and stepping on any that glow with her hiking boots.
“We’re going to rest in our tent,” Bea says, stepping close and kissing me. “We’ll be ready when it’s time to go.”
“We won’t leave without you.” I wink, then kiss Ginny next.
As Amy and I stand, watching the dying campfire, we hear the crunching sounds of tires on gravel. A spotlight turns on as the forest service truck stops beside our campsite. “Relax,” Amy says, gripping my hand.
“Everything okay?” the ranger asks after stepping out of the truck. Her partner is still at the wheel, watching us and directing the spotlight at our feet.
“We’re just putting out the fire before we crawl into our tent,” I say, waving at the tent I’ll share with Amy. “It’s getting late. I’m ready to wind down. How about you, babe?”
“Absolutely.” Amy lifts her hands as she yawns and stretches. “Been a long day.”
“Thanks for being responsible for the fire.” The ranger tips her hat. “It’s fire season, you know.”
“Smokey taught me that only I can prevent forest fires.” I grin at the cute park ranger.
“Okay, we’ll leave you to it,” she says, returning my grin. “We’re closing the gates. Y’all have a good night.”
“We plan on it.” I turn, grinning at Amy and pulling her against my side. She wraps her arms around my waist as the ranger strolls back to her truck. The spotlight extinguishes, and we wave as the park rangers roll away.
“Let’s climb in and rest.” Amy grins. “Sometimes they make two laps.”
“After you.” I wave my hand toward our tent. I hear soft moans from the other tent, and my guts tighten when I think about what we have planned.