4. ‘J’
4
‘J’
N orthcreek Lookout Point – Maine.
J Vandenberg wraps his large hands around a pair of binoculars he pulled from the back pocket of his military-grade cargo shorts. He isn’t a soldier, but in areas of dense wilderness, army attire was sturdier than the clothing found in camping stores. The military stuff was apparently designed for bodies that carry more muscle, broader around the shoulders, chest, and thighs, which is perfect for J’s lean build.
He places a heavy boot on the lower frame of the lookout point while scanning the distance. He’s not a bird watcher, but on this particular day, birds are the very thing he hopes to capture through the lens of his fancy binoculars.
Over the years, he’d learned a thing or two about being on the trails, and that often started with observing the birds. If they sang and foraged, it usually meant he had nothing to worry about. If they became frantic and started hunkering down, it usually meant he should be doing the same. He could, of course, just look at the weather forecast, but that involved technology, and looking at his phone. A phone was a connection to his demanding life back in New York. He didn’t travel all the way to the wilderness to deal with whatever pressing issue demanded his attention back home. The whole point of these trips into the denseness of the forest was so he could escape and clear his head. The phone stayed out of his trips.
Even though the birds are singing and soaring through the trees, he’s not a hundred percent convinced the weather isn’t going to take a turn. He is sure, however, that he can cover a little more ground before he pitches up for the night. He lowers the binoculars, relaxing for the first time in what feels like forever.
He climbs down from the lookout tower and notes a couple women approaching from the other side. Their high-pitched voices and matching bright purple sweaters cause a muscle to twitch in his jaw. He rakes a hand through his dark brown hair, then tightens the straps on his backpack as he selects a different route. He didn’t travel all the way to Maine to be bothered by cackling, shrieking females.
He veers off the gravel and disappears into the trails less traveled.
He’ll hike another mile or so before setting up camp, because even though the weather appears fine for now, it could all change quickly, and a smart hiker is always prepared to expect the unexpected.