The Other Side of Lost

by Jessi Kirby

  I stop. “Um . . .” I’m still not used to the way everyone skips any small talk and speaks to each other with such a degree of familiarity out here.

  “Sorry.” He takes a step toward me and reaches out his free hand. “I’m Josh. I think we sorta met back at the Wilderness Office.”

  “Mari,” I say, taking it. “We sort of did.”

  He looks around. “Where’s your . . . Weren’t you gonna be hiking with another girl?”

  “No, I—” and then I remember telling the guy there that Bri was outside with our stuff and the conversation that followed. Interesting that he was listening. “She had to bow out,” I say, not wanting to elaborate while we’re on the side of this mountain.

  He raises his eyebrows. “Wow, so it’s just you? Solo?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s pretty badass.”

  “Not exactly,” I say. I glance around, wanting to take the focus off me and having to explain what I’m doing out here alone. “Where’s your group?”

  “They’re up ahead a little ways. I told ’em I’d catch up. Just wanted a little time to myself.”

  I nod, understanding. “Ah. I’ll let you be then,” I say, and I move to take another step.

  “No, it’s okay,” he says. “We can go together. I could use the company.”

  I give him a confused look.

  “I’ve been here for a little while. Had enough alone time.”

  He smiles again, and all of a sudden I feel self-conscious. He was probably here long enough to watch me struggle all the way up this damn pass. He holds out the poles again. “You sure you don’t wanna try these? They’ll change your world.”

  There’s a note of empathy in his voice, and now I know he was witness to my less-than-adept mountain climbing skills. “Are you sure?” I ask. “Don’t you want them?”

  “Nah,” he says, waving a hand. “I’ll be all right.” He nudges them at me again, and I take the poles.

  “Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.”

  There’s a moment where neither one of us moves, and I pray that he goes first, but then he puts one hand on his chest and half bows, gesturing with the other.

  “After you,” he says with a smile.

  “Oh no, that’s okay,” I say. “You go first. I don’t want to slow you down.”

  He picks up his pack and slips his arms through the straps then stands there with a wry smile. “I’m not in a hurry. Go ahead.”

  He doesn’t look like he plans on going anywhere until I do, so I turn and start trudging again. Up the steepest part of the mountain. In front of him.

  I move at a pace faster than is comfortable, doing everything I can not to embarrass myself or slow him down. The poles really do make a world of difference, and I can feel we’re moving much quicker than I was before, even though the trail is practically vertical. We don’t talk, we just move forward. And like many other things out here on the trail, it feels normal, as opposed to real life, where walking with a complete stranger in silence like this would be awkward. I can hear his footsteps behind me, and the only thing that keeps me from glancing back over my shoulder is that I know I wouldn’t be able to see past my pack anyway.

  I conjure his face in my mind instead. He’s cute. Dark wavy hair held back by a bandanna. Warm brown eyes. Kind smile. Broad shoulders that carry his pack with seemingly little effort. For a second, I try to picture what I must look like right now, but I realize just as quickly that I don’t have the energy to care. My lungs feel like they’re about to burst, and the muscles in my legs and butt burn from deep inside with the effort of the climb. But I can’t let up, not with him right behind me and the crest of the pass in my view.

  “Wow,” he says, just as out of breath as I am, “who are . . . you racing?”

  I laugh, but it comes out more like a heavy exhale. “Not racing. I just . . . wanna get . . .” I take two more steps then stop at what looks like the peak. “Here,” I say.

  Josh stops too, and we both stand there, both try to catch our breath. I look out over the mountain I’ve just climbed. My first big pass of the hike, and I almost can’t believe I made it. I reach back and dig my phone out of the side pocket to get a shot of the view. And then I aim the lens down at Bri’s boots and take a picture of them too.

  Josh, who’s been admiring the view, glances over at me right at that moment. “You want me to get a picture of you?”

  “No,” I say quickly. “No, thanks.”

  He shrugs, and I put my phone away. We’re both quiet a moment, and this time it does start to feel a little awkward.

  “These helped a lot,” I say, lifting the trekking poles into the air. “Thank you.” I hold them out to him, but he brushes them away.

  “Hang on to ’em, if you want.” He stands and points at the vast expanse of snow ahead. “They’ll be good for that too.”

  I run my eyes over the seemingly endless peaks and valleys in front of us, trying to hide the sinking feeling in my chest that quickly replaces the previous moment’s triumph. “I can’t . . .”

  What I want to say is that I can’t do this. I can’t keep going in the snow like this and pretend like it’s no big deal. But I bite back the words, feeling embarrassed and weak, and wishing I was alone, with no one else to witness it. I look at Josh. “I can’t take these from you. I should’ve brought my own, and you need to meet up with your friends, and . . .” I try to hand him the poles “Anyway, thank you. They were a big help.”

  He looks at them, but doesn’t take them from me. “Wow. Okay. I can take a hint,” he says with a little laugh. “I’ll be on my way in just a minute.”

  “I . . .” I’m trying to give him an out.

  “I mean, that’s fine if you’d rather go solo, I just thought . . . this part sucks—maybe too much to do alone?”

  He pauses, and I get the feeling he might actually be worried about leaving me on my own. I can’t decide if that would be endearing or patronizing, but all of a sudden the miles in front of us do look like they’d be a heck of a lot easier with someone else.

  I can feel Josh’s eyes on me, following my own gaze. “Totally up to you,” he says. “And you can keep the poles either way.”

  I look at him and decide his concern and offer are both genuine. And kind of sweet. “Let’s go together then,” I say. “At least until it sucks less.”

  He laughs. “Deal.”

  We take a couple of minutes to rest and hydrate then we get back to it. Almost immediately, it does start to suck less—partly because we get to start descending, which is such a relief I don’t even mind that we have to take switchbacks to do it. But also because it feels good not to be alone. To be in this with another person, even though we don’t know each other. We don’t talk much as we go—we’re connected by a common goal and making progress, and the silence of that is a comfortable one. Thin as it is, it’s a connection that feels real, as opposed to so many others I’ve had.

  My mind drifts back to Ian, and how I couldn’t believe when he started following me, then started liking and even commenting on my photos. At first I thought maybe it was just a bot set to auto-follow and comment. He had a much bigger following than I did, and he was so good-looking, and so popular, I couldn’t believe he’d actually noticed me. And then, when he’d reached out about doing a few paid shots together, I was hopeful that it was an excuse to ask me to hang out. That something in my pictures had intrigued him and he wanted to know more about me. I convinced myself of it, really, so that when we started promoting things and posting as a “couple,” I even believed it was true, and that it was me he was interested in. Not the followers or reach I could bring to the table. But for him, it was never about me, or us. Not like that.

  Up ahead, Josh stops and waves—I can’t see at what, but I assume it’s his friends. He turns back then to check on me, and in that one small gesture is more concern and connection than I ever felt from Ian. Not that I expect or want anything to come of it,
it’s just been nice to be with another person for a little while. I’ve already decided that once we catch up to his group, I’ll bow out and let them go on without me. I don’t want to be the one girl in a group of guys, and definitely don’t want anyone to feel like they have to look after me. Plus, part of me has gotten used to the idea of doing this thing alone, and being in my own headspace, hiking my own hike, like Corrie said. I try to figure out how to graciously communicate this to Josh as I close the distance between the two of us.

  “Be down in a sec!” he yells just before I reach him, and I see I was right. His friends are a few switchbacks below, and when I stop next to Josh and they see me, I hear a “No way!” and whistle, thereby confirming the rightness of my decision to go it alone from this point forward.

  Josh glances at me. “Don’t worry about them, they’re just happy to see me.”

  There’s another eruption of cheers and hoots and hollers from below. “Come on! Do it! Do the Ass Pass!”

  I have no idea what they’re talking about, so I don’t know whether to laugh or be offended. “What did they say?”

  Josh shakes his head then laughs a little. “See that trail?” he says, pointing to a smooth line that cuts straight down through the snowy mountainside.

  I nod.

  “That’s from where they slid down the mountain. It’s actually called glissading, but we made up our own name for it.”

  “COME ON!” yells a voice from below. “GO! GO! GO!”

  Josh ignores it. “You wanna try? It’s quicker than switchbacks, and way more fun.”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “It looks kinda sketchy, I know.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “I’ll go first. I can show you how to do it, then you can try.” He sits down on his butt at the top of the “slide” and looks up at me before I can argue. “See you at the bottom?”

  “Um, sure,” I say, though I’m thinking this is the perfect time to part ways as he’s about to go barreling down, and I don’t want to have to follow.

  He tucks the jacket that is tied around his waist under his butt, sticks his boots with their spiky crampons out in the air in front of him, and leans back slightly. “All right. Wish me luck.”

  Before I can, he gives himself a shove and is off, sliding down the mountain, slowly at first, and then picking up speed as he crosses right over the first switchback. He yells, and is answered by cheers from below, and he looks so silly bumping down the slide with his backpack, completely out of control, I can’t help but laugh.

  A few seconds later, he skids to the bottom, and his friends all raise their hands, cheering. As he stands up and dusts himself off, there are high fives all around, and I forget I’m standing there watching it all until they turn their attention up the mountain to me. I curse myself for not having started walking already.

  “SEE?” Josh yells. “IT’S SAFE! COME ON DOWN!”

  His friends stay quiet, but they’re all looking up at me. One of them nudges the one standing next to him.

  Shit.

  It was one thing to watch him slide down, but going myself is a whole other matter. I glance down at the snow slide, which looks well packed and slick. For a moment, I see myself, careening out of control down the mountain, and landing in a pile in front of Josh and his friends. Who, at this moment, all happen to be looking up, waiting patiently for me to take the slide. I want to yell down “Thanks anyway!” and keep walking, but a thought stops me then.

  Bri would go.

  I know it’s true. Of course Bri would do this. Not only would she slide down the mountain, it probably would’ve been her idea in the first place.

  I look at the sky like maybe she’s watching all this from somewhere up there. Okay, I tell her, keep me safe, and don’t let me humiliate myself in front of all those guys down there. Deal?

  I answer for her, then take a deep breath, tuck my jacket beneath my butt like Josh did, and sit with the trekking poles across my lap. Then I give myself a shove. At first I move slowly, but then, just like I watched Josh do, I start to gain speed.

  It’s a scary, out-of-control rush, and I want to put my feet down like brakes, but in a few seconds I’m moving too fast for that. The only thing I can do is go with it. I hit a bump and let out a little scream without meaning to, but by the time I slide into the flat part at the bottom, I’m laughing and out of breath.

  Josh is right there, extending a hand. “Nice. I give that an eight for style.”

  I take his hand and stand, brushing off my pants and jacket.

  A stocky guy with blond hair and tattoos covering his arms looks me over, then bumps shoulders with the tall guy next to him and says, not so under his breath. “Dude. I give that a ten.”

  The tall one laughs but shakes his head. “Shut up, jackass.”

  “What?” says the tattooed one. “Only Josh would find a cute chick miles from civilization.”

  I’m surprised when a girl’s voice chimes in from behind them. “You guys realize if I can hear you, she can too, right?”

  “What?” the tattooed one asks again. “I meant that as a compliment.”

  The girl stands from where she’d been crouching and gives him a look. “I’m sure you did.” She fixes him with her eyes a moment longer until he looks back at me and extends his hand.

  “I’m sorry. Name’s Beau. Nice to meet you. I just meant you tackled the Ass Pass like a pro.” The girl smacks him and he grins, which makes him look instantly boyish.

  I shake his hand. “Mari. Thank you—I think.”

  The girl extends her hand. “I’m Vanessa.” We shake, and then she gestures at the other two guys. “This is my boyfriend, Jack,” she says, resting her hand on the shoulder of a large-framed guy with brown hair. “And that’s Colin.” Each of them steps forward, offering polite smiles along with their handshakes.

  “That pass was no joke, huh?” Vanessa says when we’re finished.

  I glance back up the mountain. “Yeah, that was brutal.”

  “Horrible,” Jack says.

  “Worst part yet,” Colin agrees.

  Vanessa nods. “At least it’s over, though.”

  Josh laughs. “That’s only the first pass, you guys.” He pauses, and glances at me. “The real fun hasn’t even begun.”

  “Are you guys doing the whole John Muir Trail too?” I ask.

  “We are. Just like you.”

  Vanessa looks at me. “Are you hiking solo?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “Wow, that’s . . . I don’t think I could do that,” she says.

  “I don’t know if I can either,” I say honestly. Today was harder than anything I’ve ever done, and if this is just the beginning, I’m screwed.

  “But you’ve gotten this far already,” Vanessa says. “That’s pretty damn good.”

  “I don’t know,” I say quietly. “It doesn’t feel like it’s that good. I’ve been hiking so slow, because I’m so sore.”

  “How far are you going today?”

  “I was hoping to make it to Thousand Island Lake by sunset, but I don’t know if that’s gonna happen.” I look at the sun, which peaked in the sky a long time ago and is now beginning its downward arc. “That took a lot longer than I thought it would.”

  “We’ll make it,” Josh says. “If we go soon, and pick up our pace from here on out.”

  His friends all give him a look, and I’m pretty sure I catch a we-never-discussed-this vibe. “What?” he asks, unfazed. “That’s where we’re going too. It’s a good place to camp.” He looks at me. “You wanna join us?”

  The invitation catches me off guard, even though a tiny part of me had started to hope for one.

  “Join you? Oh, I don’t—you guys don’t need to—” God, I am making this awkward. I pause then look at his friends, who I still can’t really read. “I mean, only if it’d be okay with you all—I don’t want to intrude on your . . . group.” It’s the truth, but I also can’t really figure a way out of
it since we’re all headed in the same direction.

  Vanessa saves me from embarrassing myself any further. “Of course. Come. Please. We could use a little more estrogen on this trip.”

  She shoots a look over her shoulder perfectly timed for Colin to tackle Beau in the snow. Jack immediately joins in, firing snowballs at the two of them.

  “You see what I mean?” Vanessa says with an eye roll.

  I nod, laughing. “Yeah, I just . . . Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” Vanessa says. “Come. The more the merrier.”

  Josh catches my eye then and gives me the same wry smile he did up at the top of the pass. This time it sends a little zing to my stomach that I try to ignore. Doing Bri’s hike is what I’m here for. Getting away from my messed-up life and figuring myself out is what I’m here for. Meeting cute guys on the trail is not. I remind myself of this as we get back on the trail, and I have to continue to remind myself as we cover the miles to Thousand Island Lake, with Josh hanging back to match my pace, even though he’s very clearly the leader of the group.

  Range of Light

  WE REACH Thousand Island Lake at dusk, by the light of our headlamps, and it is so beautiful that the exhaustion of the day melts into a quiet kind of awe that settles over us. Without speaking, we all stop to take it in, our reward for the day’s efforts.

  The sky stretches high above the jagged peaks that surround the lake basin, and the reflections of swirling clouds lit from beneath by the setting sun dance over the surface of the water. True to its name, the lake is dotted with what looks like a thousand tiny islands. All around us, in every direction, a soft light falls on the mountains. It’s a deep, warm, rose glow that saturates them so completely it’s almost hard to imagine their stony, gray daylight color.

  I wish I could capture the image in front of us exactly as it is, press every detail into my memory. The rest of the group stands just a little ahead of Josh and me, and I see that they all have their phones out and are taking pictures. I reach back for my phone to do the same, but when I look at the sky that’s changing by the moment, I stop. I don’t want to waste a second looking at it through my phone screen. I want to soak up all that light before it disappears. Watch the sun set over the lake, like Bri had planned to do herself.