Sleep was much better the second night on the trail. It wasn’t long after I set up my tent and ate a hot dinner that I crawled into my sleeping bag and gave in to the exhaustion of the last couple of days. I woke at the break of dawn feeling like I’d had way too much to drink the night before. It’d been a good long while since I’d had a hangover, but my, oh my, that was exactly what it felt like. If only I’d had the fun to go with the consequences. Head to toe, everything ached. If I were home, I’d shuffle out to the living room, curl up in the deep corner of the sofa with a blanket, and sleep through a couple of movies. But I wasn’t home. I sat up and had to brace myself while I waited for the dizziness to pass.
My boots were in a pouch down by my feet. If I weren’t feeling so icky, it would have been comical how far away they seemed to be, as if I’d left them on the other side of the house in Hartford. I extracted myself from my twisted sleeping bag and unzipped the flap to my tent. A deep breath of crisp morning air helped me muster the energy to crawl to the other end of my tent, retrieve my boots, and actually force them on my feet. I stood. The world swam wildly. I squatted for a lower center of gravity in case I toppled over. My legs screamed in protest, and I kept going backward until I was once again seated just inside my tent. Footsteps rapidly approached, then there was a hand on my shoulder. I kept my eyes closed because I was sure the world was still spinning madly out of control.
“Hey, what happened? Are you okay?” Leslie whispered.
“Worst. Hangover. Ever,” I answered quietly because despite how horrible I felt, I had a feeling we were the only two awake this early. “I’d have to feel better to die.” Damn Sue and her sayings.
“Were you drinking last night? You know you’re supposed to pass the bottle, not drink it all yourself.”
“I wasn’t drinking.”
“In that case, this might be a weird question, but do you feel the need to pee?” she asked.
“What? No. Why?” I tried to look at her, but the world started spinning again.
“Did you go at all last night?”
I had to think about it. I’d finally slept through the night, and I wasn’t entirely sure I’d gone before bed. “No.”
“You slept for twelve hours. Your bladder should be full. How much did you drink yesterday? How many water bottles?”
“I don’t know. I’m guessing by your tone…” I drew in a deep breath and let out slowly to fight off the nausea. “Not enough.”
Leslie pinched the skin on the back of my upper wrist. “You’re right about that. You’re dehydrated. Wait here.”
Like I was going to go anywhere. I couldn’t even stand. She returned a few minutes later.
“I hope you like salty tasting lemon-lime. Here, drink this…all of it.” She handed me a water bottle and sat next to me. I felt her arm wrap around my shoulder and hold me. It felt nice. In fact, it felt very nice. I leaned into her because in that moment, I could get away with it.
Within fifteen minutes, I’d finished the water and felt surprisingly human again. “What’s in this miracle juice?”
“It’s called Electro IV. I keep powdered single serv packets in my food bag for moments just like this. It’s like a sports drink on super steroids. I’ve been there myself. Some days, you sweat off more than you take in. Your color’s already looking much better.”
“I have electrolyte packets, too. I didn’t even think of adding them to my water yesterday.”
“You’ve pushed your body hard. Sometimes, water alone isn’t enough, especially if you haven’t taken enough in. Without the boost, it could take a day or two to fully recover. I’d recommend mixing a packet with your water at lunch, too. That is, if you feel up for hiking today.”
How could I not? If I stayed back to rest and Leslie kept going, that’d be it. Same went for Bobber and Cricket. I’d never catch up to them. We were all getting along so well that I didn’t want to risk losing our little group. Sure, there were other people that I’d meet, but I’d really clicked with these three. I’d push through. I’d find a way to continue.
I sat up a little taller. “I like hiking with you. I want to keep going.”
“Good ’cause I like having you around, too. You should know, it’s going to be a tough trek from here to Neel Gap. Almost all of it will be uphill, but there’s a special reward when we get close to the end of our day.” She stood up and held out her hand.
I grabbed my pack. She took it from me and again offered her free hand. The extra stability was welcome. This time, my legs were kind enough to support me. My muscles were still fatigued, but I attributed that to twenty-five miles of hiking in two days. At least the world wasn’t swirling. I tested fate again by bending and zipping up my tent. Success. That was some seriously magic juice.
“Do you think you can make it to the picnic table?” Leslie asked.
“How about I meet you there?” I took my pack and swung it over one shoulder. “I want to clean up and grab my bear vault.”
She shot me a questioning look.
“Really, I’m already feeling much better. It’s my morning routine. I’ll holler if I need you, okay?”
She smiled and nodded.
Her concern for me offered the warmth of a great big hug. We were figuring out a rapport. One that took much less effort than any relationship I’d ever had, personal or professional. For the second day in a row, we ate breakfast together in amicable silence. It was nice. Rather than make hot tea after, I mixed one of my electrolyte drink packets into another bottle of water and used it to chase down a few ibuprofen. The extreme effects of dehydration scared me just a bit. I knew myself well enough to know that I’d likely overcompensate, but better to be well hydrated than to risk feeling like that again tomorrow. Besides, I’d read about Neel Gap and more specifically, Mountain Crossings, an outfitter and hostel that was literally the only indoor part of the trail. Not to mention, there was the possibility of a hot shower, laundry, a cocktail, and pizza if all went well. Count. Me. In.
We each went about our tasks, silently breaking down camp. I knew it wasn’t a race, but because I was competitive by nature, I made it one. My inflatable sleeping pad slowed me down, and she beat me by just under two minutes. Years of experience with her gear for the win. The sun was fully up, and still, no one around us had stirred. We hoisted our packs and bid farewell to Gooch Mountain Shelter. A checkbox for day two.
The climb was instant and relentless. At times, it was so steep that I found myself winded and had to stop to catch my breath. My legs burned with overuse and fatigue. How I wished for my trail legs. Would I constantly feel like this for the next eight to twelve weeks until my legs adapted to this new lifestyle? I wasn’t sure if Leslie was feeling it too or if she was being kind and matching my pace. It was likely the latter. Her trail legs were more like hefty tree stumps. Either way, I was grateful to have her close by.
We stopped a few hours later for a second breakfast. At least, I wasn’t the only one already hungry again. I remembered reading that hikers should consume about six thousand calories a day due to the physical exertion of the trail. I typically ate about thirteen hundred a day, a bit more if cocktails were involved, so I bumped my daily estimate up to about four thousand and planned for four days of food from my kickoff point in Amicalola Falls.
I opened my bear vault and was relieved that we’d be shopping later that afternoon. My trail gluttony had put a big dent in my provisions. I finished off my oatmeal, walnuts, and freeze-dried fruit, along with the milk powder for my fifth breakfast in three days. This left me with two high-protein granola bars for snacks, some turkey jerky, and a couple handfuls of trail mix for lunch, or I could break out my stove and cook up my last freeze-dried dinner of beef stroganoff. I wouldn’t starve, but I definitely needed to resupply with this overzealous appetite in mind.
“Are you good to keep going?” Leslie asked between mouthfuls of her second breakfast extravaganza.
“I am.” I scraped the last of my masterpiece from my cup. “Thanks again for taking care of me this morning. I didn’t even consider dehydration. I thought for sure I’d had bad water or something.”
“You’re filtering all your water, right?” she asked with a stern facial expression.
“Oh, I am. I just couldn’t think of another cause. It’s not like I caught the flu out here in the woods.”
“Trust me, if it was bad water, you’d have had a whole different set of issues.” She winked, and I knew enough about the symptoms to be grateful for the lack of specifics, even if we’d already finished eating.
Leslie bent over and washed out her cup. I took a moment and admired her from this perspective. She had a nice ass. Toned and muscular, yet enough plumpness to grab a good handful. Would the past couple of days have been as enjoyable if we hadn’t met, or would I be on the verge of tapping out, like the Wild ladies at Stover Creek, if I’d been out here all alone? Quite possibly the latter. Thankfully, Lady Luck was shining down on me at the airport. Hiking with Leslie had made the last couple of days an unexpected treat. I bent next to her and washed my cup out before I was caught ogling her ass.
We packed up and got moving again. The ibuprofen finally kicked in, and my legs were fighting through the weariness. Onward and upward, one foot in front of the other toward the summit. Hiking felt a little like existing in slow motion. I’d never done anything slow in Hartford. I was always going a hundred miles an hour. Nope, never, in a million years, would I have imagined myself a hiker. The reality of it still caught me off guard at times. Just three weeks earlier, I was perched in my fancy corner office and had people at my beck and call. Who knew that I’d lose the corner office and end up on a trail in Northern Georgia? What a difference a day makes.
We climbed and climbed, ate lunch, plateaued briefly, ate a snack, and climbed some more…relentlessly. Leslie made it to the peak first. She was in front of me by a hundred yards or so and stood stoically on the vast gray shale when I crested the summit. She turned and had that same emotional expression she’d had back at Long Creek Falls. I instantly felt an urgent need to hold her. I resisted and walked up beside her instead.
“The treat I promised you. The tippy top of Blood Mountain. The highest peak along Georgia’s portion of the AT.” She removed her pack, unzipped a pocket, and pulled out her mom’s diary and her phone.
The vast mountainous terrain was breathtaking. Rolling landscapes below went on for miles and miles, as far as the eye could see. Leslie plucked a photo from the diary, stared at it for a moment, and handed it to me. The views were much hazier than the crystal clear atmosphere of the moment. In this picture, her mom stood with a trademark seventies man, including the Fu Manchu mustache. Two backpacks were on the ground, one leaning against the other. Leslie’s mom and the male hiker had their arms wrapped around one another and their heads leaning into each other, touching at the crown.
“Is that your father?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Who knows? It could be him, or it could be one of countless others in photos along the trail. She left the trail in mid-June, and I was born in December, but I don’t know if I was early, late, or on time. She likely became pregnant sometime in March, so it could be him. I stopped wondering who he was long ago.”
I didn’t know what to say to all of that. I wasn’t close with either of my parents. Would I feel a sense of wonder if I didn’t know who my father was? Truth be told, I wasn’t entirely sure I was my father’s daughter. He had a dark complexion, dark hair, and brown eyes, while I was blond, fair skinned, and blue-eyed like my mother. I’d looked up the odds of that happening, and it was less than ten percent. My mother never hid her trysts, and I never cared enough to ask for a DNA test. Much like what Leslie said, knowing wouldn’t change much.
“Can I capture another photo for you?” I asked.
“Instead, would you be in this one with me? We can mimic the pose.”
I nodded, smiling like a freshman being asked out to homecoming, and removed my pack. We stood arm in arm with our heads touching and cheesy smiles on our faces. Leslie snapped a few shots. Our pose closely matched her mom’s. It was perfect.
“Would it be too much to ask to take one with my phone, too?”
“Not at all.”
I opened the app and configured the settings. We posed, and Leslie took a few shots. They were fantastic with the vast views off behind us. I had decent signal, so I attached the photo and shot off a text to Sue, telling her that I was still alive and having fun. Her response was a smiley face with heart eyes. I wasn’t sure if the heart eyes were for me or because she’d read more into the photo than what it was.
Thankfully, the rest of our hike was downhill. We made it to the infamous Mountain Crossings outfitters by five in the afternoon. On our way to the stone building, we passed a tree draped with used hiking shoes. I stopped next to Leslie to take it all in. We each pulled out our phones and took photos.
“The AT hiker’s boot tree,” Leslie read from a plaque. “This is the final resupply on the trail for southbound hikers. When they complete the trail from Maine to Georgia, they get to throw their hiking shoes up into the tree so there’s always a part of them on the trail.”
It was the most touching tribute I’d ever heard of. “Is there one in Maine for the northbound hikers?”
“We’ll have to make it to Maine for ourselves and see, won’t we?” She rested her hand on my shoulder. Her touch was becoming a craving, and I savored each and every fix.
We stared at the tree for a moment more before we walked up the sidewalk and into the outfitters.
“Hiya. I’m Steve. Welcome to Mountain Crossings,” a man said from behind the cash register. There was a sign on the wall behind him that read, Have a question, ask, we’re all successful thru-hikers.
“Hi, are there any bunks still available?” Leslie asked.
“Sure. You two are our first arrivals of the day. We’ve done some major renovations in the bunk room over the winter months, including all new mattresses. I think you’ll find it very comfortable in there.”
“Do you own this facility?” I asked.
“Sure enough. My wife, Rosie, and I bought it a year and a half ago.”
“And you’ve both hiked the entire trail, like the sign says behind you?” Leslie asked.
“That’s right. We hiked the trail in entirety six years ago. There’s something about the AT that just gets into your blood. It’s different than any other trail. When this place came up for sale, we ditched our corporate jobs and took a leap of faith. Best decision we’ve ever made.” His smile said it all.
“You’re literally living on the trail. How cool is that? Talk about being surrounded by trail magic all the time.” Leslie spun slowly, her eyes darting here and there as if she was trying to take it all in.
“No regrets?” I asked.
“Not one. We have great staff, amazing customers, and there’s virtually zero stress. Honestly, we’ve never been happier. I tell ya, it’s a load of fun being at the thirty-mile mark. For the northbound folks, this is the first sign of life after Amicalola. It’s a defining stop. Hikers are either loving the trail or they’re in tears and trading in their gear for a ride home. Then, there’s the southbound hikers in the fall who get to toss their boots up in the tree. There’s nothing like living where people yearn to vacation.”
“Interesting perspective.” I wasn’t sure I could consider trading my corporate paycheck to run a setup like Mountain Crossings, but prior to this trip, I hadn’t even known they existed. He did look happy.
“Sorry, here I am talking your ear off, and you two are probably itching to get a shower before this place fills up. Rate’s twenty-five dollars per person, and it includes a bunk, a shower, and a towel. Laundry is coin-operated if you need it.”
“Sounds wonderful. Can I prepay for a couple who’s trailing a bit behind? I want to make sure they each get a bunk, too. Trail names are Bobber and Cricket. That’ll be four of us in total.” I opened my wallet and added four twenties on top of Leslie’s twenty-five. “I’ll take the change in quarters, if that’s what the laundry takes.”
Leslie and I unpacked enough to claim all four beds in the two bunks along the back wall. I had saved a clean outfit, knowing I’d get a shower at Mountain Crossings. While Leslie was in the bathroom, I dug out my clothes and tossed my toiletries into my sleeping bag sack that was empty because my sleeping bag was currently calling dibs on the bunk above. The prospect of indoor plumbing had me absolutely giddy. I was about to feel like a brand-new woman.
The bathroom door opened, and steam escaped around Leslie’s body. Wow, who knew the sporty physique was so incredibly sexy? Either I was seriously deprived, or I craved a new type because I couldn’t look away. The damp T-shirt stuck to her skin, outlining the perfect swell of her breasts, and her shorts hugged her hips and strong thighs. She had a towel draped around her neck and looked like something out of a dreamy scene in a rom-com. Holy hell.
Without the bandana, her thick head of hair was on full display, all wet and wavy. No doubt a gift from her mother. She had an hourglass figure that started at her strong, broad, well-defined shoulders. Her waist was surprisingly trim without the multiple layers of clothes, and her legs were every bit as muscular as I’d pictured on the plane.
Was it my imagination, or did she have a mischievous glint in her eyes? I half expected her to beckon me into the shower, or perhaps that was wishful thinking.
“Sorry, I took so long. The water is superhot and the pressure is ah-mazing.” She stepped into the bunk room.
“You should lose the bandana. You have a beautiful head of hair.”
Color flushed her cheeks. “Thanks, the bandana does for me what your ponytail does for you. Keeps this mop from becoming an unruly mess and keeps it out of my eyes. You’re in luck tonight, though. Much like everything I own, it needs to be washed. The shower’s all yours. I’ll get my laundry started. That way, the washer should be free when you’re done.”
I stood there like a smitten schoolgirl and had to force myself to move. My hope for an offer to help me out of my clothes was dashed. Without as much as a second glance, she scooped up her laundry and left. It was probably for the best. We were getting along great, and my track record with women wasn’t all that. I grabbed my stuff and made a beeline for the bathroom.
She wasn’t wrong about the shower. The water was blissfully hot, and the pressure massaged my sore muscles. I washed, rinsed, and repeated the process all over again. Never in my life had I gone so long without bathing. It felt incredible to get the three days of grime off my body. It occurred to me that, just like I’d only ever seen Leslie wearing the bandana, she’d only ever seen my hair in the ponytail so, for something different, I left it down and let it dry naturally, hoping she’d find it just as attractive as I found her natural looks.
I gathered everything that needed laundering and followed the signs. She was transferring her clothes from the washer to the dryer. Perfect timing. Once both machines were running, we grabbed our wallets and all but raced back to the store to go shopping.
Bobber and Cricket arrived an hour or so later. After they showered and had their laundry going, we took our pizza right out of the oven and our ice-cold beer out back to sit around the roaring campfire. For the time being, we had the little area all to ourselves. I’d never been much of a beer drinker, but after three days of extreme physical exertion, cold beer paired perfectly with a piping hot supreme pizza.
“Bobber, did you give them the cash? You two were sweet to claim the bunks for us. Thank you.”
“Indeed, I did.”
“Happy to do it. We have to keep our little group together.” I held up my beer in a toast. Bobber, Cricket, and Leslie tapped the necks of their beer bottles against mine. I liked our little group and being a part of it felt good.
“So how long have you two been hiking together?” Cricket pointed to Leslie and I.
“Two days,” I answered.
“No, not this trail. I mean, all added up,” Cricket said.
Leslie swallowed her mouthful. “Like she said, two days. We met on the flight to Atlanta and shared a ride to Amicalola. Then, as you know, she totally ditched me on day one.”
Bobber popped out of her chair. “Shut up. You two are so stinking cute together, like peas and carrots. You should totally hook up.”
A pang of jealously popped up as an image of Leslie being whisked away by the rowdy crowd flooded my mind. “A correction is in order. If memory serves, I think it was you who totally ditched me the night before, like, the moment we arrived at the lodge.”
Leslie bumped my knee. “Hey, I already said that I’m sorry about that, like, really sorry.”
“Yeah, well, from what we’ve noticed, you haven’t let her out of your sight since that first day. Munch is smitten on one Ms. Amber Shaw.” Cricket wiggled her eyebrows and winked at me. “Munch has a First Class crush.”
“Good one. Oh, I’ve got it. Munch is hoping for a First Class snack. Nom, nom, nom.” Bobber made her arms into the Pac Man mouth.
Cricket laughed. “Munch wants to put her stamp on First Class.” Cricket made a stamping motion.
“Keep it up, you two, and somebody’s going to get stamped, all right.” Leslie chuckled, and I wished I could read her mind.
“You could do worse.” I flipped back my hair. “I am quite a catch.”
“Yes, you are,” Cricket said.
Bobber and I both looked at Cricket. She waved us off and rolled her eyes.
“You don’t say.” Leslie leaned over and rested her head on my shoulder. “Well, in that case, I’m in, especially if it means I get to curl up next to you on that cozy inflatable sleeping pad tomorrow night.”
We all laughed.
Cricket pointed her pizza at me. “Is this your first trail, then?”
“It is.” I kept my answer short, hoping Leslie wouldn’t repeat her assessment of me from the plane. Thankfully, she remained quiet.
“Is the AT everything you thought it would be?” Bobber asked.
I chewed my mouthful and washed it down with the last of my beer. “I’m only three days in, and I’m still figuring out my rhythm. I’m not entirely sure I knew what to expect, but I’m really enjoying my time on the trail. For some reason, I thought I’d experience everything alone. Like I’d be isolated from the world, so in that respect, it’s far better than what I anticipated. I had no idea there’d be so many people out here hiking, and I’m so grateful to have met and clicked with you two and the notorious Munch.” I nudged Leslie with my elbow. “I’ve never, ever, experienced camaraderie like this before.”
Leslie twisted in her seat to face me. “Really? Never? Not even at your big fancy—”
“Never.” I cut her off but silently added, it’s lonely at the top. I wasn’t ready to discuss my recent disappointments. Out here, I had the chance to reinvent myself. I didn’t want to lose that by being outed as a has-been CEO who was promoted beyond her skill set.
“We were just saying the same thing last night. How happy we are to have met you two. It makes it so much more fun to have friends to meet up with in the evenings and share this experience with,” Cricket said.
Friends. I hung on to the word. I’d always wanted a group of close friends, but my all-consuming career hadn’t been conducive to cultivating friendships, beyond what I had with Sue, and that existed solely because of the same all-consuming career. It was refreshing to be around people who were totally unguarded and were with me because they wanted to be and weren’t being paid.
“I agree. Here’s to new friends. I can’t imagine a better beginning to the last of the scenic eleven.” Leslie had the sweetest smile. She held up her beer to Bobber, then Cricket, then her expression softened when she looked at me. I melted.
“What’s next, Munch? Are you going to tackle another series of trails, or are you hanging up your boots?” Cricket asked.
“I’m not sure.” She leaned back in her chair. “Maybe I’ll work for a place like this so I’m always on the trail.”
Bobber popped up out of her seat. “That would be so frickin’ awesome. Babe, we should do that. Ditch our jobs and run a hostel.”
“What I’m hearing you say is rather than work long days with benefits and vacation time, you’d like to work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, with no benefits, and no paid vacation. You already put in ungodly hours at your restaurant,” Cricket said. It was clear that Bobber was the dreamer, and Cricket was the one that kept them grounded.
“Yeah, but you could get away from the backstabbing office bullshit.” Bobber spun in a circle with her arms extended. “Hello…life would be a vacation.”
“Until the shelves need to be restocked, the floors swept and mopped, or the toilets back up. It’s all fun and games until it’s not.”
“Buzzkill.” Bobber plopped down in her chair.
The four of us continued to chat and laugh while we finished our pizza and the six-pack. Bobber and Cricket bailed on us to check on their laundry and restock their food bags. I was grateful that our tasks were already complete. There was a flurry of activity inside the hostel through the windows, and I’d never been a fan of shopping in a crowded space. Instead, I enjoyed the warmth of the fire, people watching from afar, and most of all, Leslie’s company. That was, until someone new heard her trail name, and then everything was about the scenic eleven and the notorious Munch. It was fun, watching her in her element.