Riding the Pause (2 page)

“You take care of yourself, and find someone,” she said, her voice turning serious. “Love is something to run towards, not away from.”

He said his good-byes and hung up, wondering how she’d figured him out from some casual conversations over the years. It was probably just a guess and it didn’t matter anyway. Love wasn’t on his agenda. He’d been there and bought the T-shirt. Along with one for his ex-wife and a handful for her lawyer. Shaking his head to clear it, he glanced down at the sleeping dog.

“What’s say we hit the trail for a couple of days?” The dog raised his head and managed a few swipes with his tail. “This stuff will keep,” he said, straightening the stack of papers. “I’ve had enough business stuff to last me for a while.”

Ian stood, displacing the disgruntled cat and went to throw some gear into his pack.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Taylor Southerland pulled the car into the overlook and turned off the engine, shifting in the seat to stare at her older sister.

They’d already left Rachel’s car at an overlook much further south down the Blue Ridge Parkway. Taylor had ferried her to another of the places the Appalachian Trail crossed the Parkway.

“Positive,” said Rachel. “I need this. I need to find a way to clear my head. Don’t worry. I’ve got my phone, and I’ll be back in two days. Three at the most. Promise me you won’t tell the boys.”

Taylor, the youngest of her six siblings was the only one she could trust to help her with the logistics of her hike without flipping out because she was going alone. Autumn and Summer would have probably done it too, but Autumn was so pregnant she was ready to pop. And it was too much to expect either of them to keep her plans secret from her brothers, their husbands. The last thing she needed was a bossy Southerland male messing with her vision quest or whatever this hike was supposed to be.

Rachel wasn’t sure herself. She just knew she needed to do something. Since she’d lost her job, it had felt like she’d been unmoored. She couldn’t get her bearings enough to figure out what came next. She’d called Taylor and sworn her to secrecy. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell the rest of her family. Not yet, not until she had some direction for where her life was going. Three days solo hiking on the AT was a last ditch attempt to find something that resembled her center.

“I’m not telling.” Taylor snorted, her eyes wide. “Are you kidding? And risk getting pounded for aiding and abetting? No way. You just make sure you get your ass out of the woods by Thursday. And in one piece or I’ll sic all of them on you.”

“Deal,” said Rachel, giving her baby sister a hug.

“I get why you told me about your job.”

Rachel started to protest. It had been easier to admit to Taylor what happened because of all the Southerland siblings, she was the least accomplished. She was a fantastic person, fun and funny. They all adored her, but picking and sticking to a career path hadn’t come easy to her.

“I do,” said Taylor, holding up her hand before Rachel could speak. “But the rest of them will understand too. We all love you.”

“I know,” she said, and she did. If there was one thing she was certain of it was her family’s love. She had always been able to count it. “I will. I’ll tell them. I will. As soon as I get back. I just want a chance to get my bearings first. Have some sort of plan.” She didn’t have a choice. She’d have to tell them since she was pretty sure part of her plan would involve moving home, at least temporarily.

“Okay,” said Taylor, popping the latch on the back of the car.

Rachel got out of car and opened the hatch, hefting her new pack onto the ground. She’d been careful about the weight, and the guy at the outdoor store had helped her with the gear. It wasn’t her first time hiking this section of the AT, but she’d jettisoned most of her gear over the years as her priorities shifted away from time in the mountains and towards her job.

She’d gone into the outdoor store looking to replace her camp stove and had come out with less money in her already taxed bank account and a new pack full of the gear the sales guy declared “essential.” It was okay. She’d think about it as an investment. She used to love spending time outdoors with her family. They’d spent most Sunday afternoons climbing to the peak of Sharp Top when they were kids and then chasing each other down again. She’d make getting into the woods a priority again, and the new gear would help. But maybe a little less gear, she thought swinging the heavy pack up onto her back.

“You’ve got the map with my route, right?”

“You mean the color coded one with ETAs plotted out by variable?” Taylor said with a laugh, leaning out her car window. “Yes, I’ve got it. Be careful.”

“I will. Thanks again for helping me with this. I love you.”

“I love you, too. And Rachel,” she said, her tone turning serious.

“Hmm?” Shifting back and forth on her feet to try to stay warm, Rachel paused to look back over her pack to her sister.

“Cut yourself some slack. You’ve always been the best of us at coloring inside the lines. Even better than Jude, and he’s practically a machine. You don’t have to hold so tightly to everything. Things will go on without you controlling it all. It’s okay to relax a little. You’ve earned it.”

Rachel nodded, unable to speak past the tightness in her throat and then started down the trail to find whatever came next.

Careful to keep her balance with the weight of her pack dragging her back, Rachel used her hiking poles to help her pick her way over the rocks and roots in the trail until she found her footing. Her well-worn hiking boots were practically the only gear she had that wasn’t new, but she knew better than to set out on a three day hike wearing new boots. She’d logged many miles in her old boots and lacing them up that morning had been like reconnecting with a part of her herself she’d lost. It made her feel like she was on the right path.

Winding her way down the switchbacks, she dodged the trickles of water following the trail. They’d gotten more snow than usual that winter, and the water tables were high. It had been cold enough up on the ridgeline for her to see her breath, but the minor drop in elevation she’d already covered meant slightly warmer temperatures and snow melt. Planting her poles, she stepped across the tops of the rocks still ringed with ice to avoid the puddles and rivulets between. Wet boots were the last thing she needed.

When she cleared the last section of wet trail, she looked up in time to see the white rectangular blaze on a tall straight tulip poplar that meant she’d found the Appalachian Trail. Her smile was automatic and even her pack felt lighter as she stepped onto the trail that wound from Maine to Georgia.

By the time Rachel reached the sign for the Cornelius Creek Shelter, the light was turning golden and her legs and feet ached. Using her poles for balance, she stepped from rock to rock until she made it across the wide shallow creek. As she got closer to the three sided shelter, she smelled wood smoke and wondered who she’d be sharing the shelter with.

It was still early in the season, but she’d passed about a dozen other hikers on the trail. Some thru-hikers with huge backpacks worn and dirty from the miles they’d already logged on their way from the bottom of the country to the top and others wearing running clothes and carrying nothing but a water bottle. Called slackpackers, they travelled in pairs, hiking hard and fast during the day and then leaving the trail for their cars at night and a good meal and clean bed in one of the local towns. They could do the whole trail leapfrogging their way from one end to the other and never spending the night outdoors. Technically they would complete the AT but it felt strange to Rachel, like they were missing an important part of the experience.

Nothing prepared Rachel for what she saw when she hopped over the last section of creek and rounded the bushes to the shelter. The hairiest old mountain man she’d ever seen was tending a fire in the stone fire ring, heating up what looked like an old enamel coffee pot. With his long straggly gray hair and a beard that covered most of his face, he looked part yeti.

For a moment, she thought about turning back and going on, but she hadn’t brought a tent and the next shelter was about five miles away. She’d never make it before dark and she couldn’t afford a twisted ankle. The last thing she needed was her brother Adam, the cop, showing up with the park rangers to rescue her. And just because the man looked like he stepped out of
Deliverance
didn’t mean he was inherently dangerous. She’d keep her mace in her pocket and sleep on the other side of the shelter. It would be okay.

“Hey there,” said the hairy man, looking up from his fire as she approached.

She nodded in greeting, shucking off the heavy pack and hopping up to sit on the edge of the raised floor of the three sided shelter. If the choice hadn’t been made before, it was as soon as she sat down. She wasn’t going anywhere else for the night. Crossing her aching legs, she worked at the laces on her boots, sliding off first one then the other before letting her feet swing over the edge. Without the weight of her hiking boots, her feet felt ten pounds lighter.

Taking a moment to relax and wiggle her toes, Rachel unzipped the top of her pack and grabbed her slides. After having her feet trapped in the boots all day, the flat rubber flip flops felt like she was wearing nothing. Grabbing her small Ziploc bag of personal items, she headed off to the luxury of the semi-permanent porta potty. There was no running water, but at least she wouldn’t be crouching in the bushes.

By the time she got back to the shelter, the man was pouring steaming water into a chipped enamel cup for tea. With the sun going down and since she’d stopped moving, she could feel the cold creeping in and knew she ought to start her new stove to heat water for dinner and her own tea. She dug in her pack for the drawstring bag that held her food and pulled out the small pot that held her tiny camp stove and fuel. The guy at the outdoor store raved about how light the stove was and how easy to use but with its spindly burner attached to the canister of fuel, it was a lot more intimidating than her old stove had been. Maybe she’d be better off just trying to heat water over a fire, she thought glancing at the steaming pot.

“You can have the rest of the water if you want,” said the hairy man. “I’m finished with it. My name’s Cash, by the way.”

“Rachel,” she said, extending her hand.

Cash shook it, his grip warm through the calluses on his hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“Are you sure?” Rachel asked eyeing the hot water with envy.

“Of course. I’ve been here for a couple of hours. I already ate and cleaned up. The rest is yours.”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile, digging through her food bag for the package of instant mashed potatoes, a beef stick and an apple. It wasn’t the most nutritious meal, but she was only going to be on the trail for a couple of days and the potatoes were light, warm and filling. “Have you been on the trail for long?” Rachel ripped open the package of instant potatoes and poured in hot water, giving the pasty white mixture a quick stir before filling her cup for tea.

“A while,” said Cash. “I’m heading back north, thru-hiking to Maine.”

“I always wanted to do that, hike the whole trail.”

“You should. I’ve done it a bunch of times,” he said. “Some parts of the trail are nicer than others, but the people are great everywhere.” He gave her a smile and Rachel was surprised at how straight his teeth were. Part of her had bought into the hairy toothless redneck stereotype, and she was a little shocked to see that it wasn’t true.

Rachel took her dinner and tea and scooted closer to the fire, tugging her fleece tighter around her against the chill. They sat in silence, watching the flames dance and the light dim while she ate, and he sipped his tea. After a day spent in the quiet of the woods, surrounded by the reassuring scent of the campfire and the radiant heat of the flames warming her through, Rachel felt a thin trickle of peace settle into her, drowning out some of the noise in her head.

She finished her dinner and cleaned her cup and spork, packing her trash in a Ziploc before hanging it and her food from a tree to keep it away from the bears. She turned back to the shelter in time to see another hiker emerge from the dark outside the campfire. He looked like a college kid, with a huge pack and a couple of weeks’ worth of beard but nowhere near Cash’s level.

She nodded and smiled as he and Cash introduced each other and started to talk. But she felt like she’d almost captured some kind of peace sitting at the fire and she didn’t want to risk losing it. She wanted time to think and while her body was tired from the exertion of hiking, it was her mind that was exhausted. She murmured her good nights and climbed into her sleeping bag, tugging her hat down over her ears so she could drift to sleep to the soft murmur of their voices and the scent of wood smoke.

When Rachel woke the next morning, the young hiker, she never caught his name, was gone already, and Cash was still asleep. She made a quick trip to the facilities, dancing a little in the cold and then packed her gear. She knew she’d be warm once she started hiking again. She refilled her empty bottle with water from the creek running it through the purifier the outdoor guy sold her.

The new stove might be dodgy, but the water filtration system was so much better than the iodine tablets they’d used as kids. Opting for a protein bar and getting moving, she cinched her backpack, shoved her feet into her boots and hefted her pack onto her back. She looked at Cash’s sleeping form just long enough to make sure he was breathing, murmured good-bye to the hairy old man and took off down the trail.

She had a map in her pack but she didn’t need it. She knew which way to turn and then she just had to stay on the trail and keep walking until she reached the next shelter at Bryant’s Ridge. There was something so soothing about simply following the trail, putting one foot in front of the other and walking without thinking or worrying about where she was going and how fast she was going to get there.

Climbing the gentle incline to the top of the ridge, she forced herself to let go of everything but the feeling of her legs working hard to take her to the top. By the time she stopped for lunch, leaning her pack against a downed tree and sitting in the soft leaves, she’d found a tangible sense of peace. Other than to wave at a few hikers as she passed them, she hadn’t talked to anyone and the rhythmic repetition of putting one foot in front of another managed to quiet the thoughts that normally circled in her head.