SUN washed over the south-facing green slopes of the Livingston Range where the Packers Roost Trail switchbacked above Mineral Creek. Bighorn sheep grazed on the lichen shoots closer to the creek and barely glanced at the three hikers. When Conrad slipped on the talus and sent a spray of harmless scree hurdling toward them, the herd kept their curvy horns pointed toward the earth.
Daniel led the trio, and he stopped to ensure Conrad had not hurt himself. Aiden, holding the caboose position, reached out to steady him. Daniel hiked several paces and waited at the next switchback. He swallowed a few gulps of the lukewarm water through the hydration tube on his backpack. Daniel and Aiden bore the burden of their load for the overnight trip into Glacier National Park, while Conrad wore a small backpack containing mostly foodstuffs.
Aiden encouraged Conrad to keep hiking at a steady pace. Daniel watched their sluggish ascent. He was happy to be outdoors and hiking, especially after sending in their tax forms. He made more money and would pay more to the government too. Temperatures hovered in the low fifties, which was perfect for a mildly rugged excursion. Watching Conrad huff along, Daniel wished Aiden had heeded his suggestion that Nick, who would be watching Ranger, spend the weekend sitting with Conrad too.
Two days ago Daniel sat up in bed listening to Aiden explain the need to take Conrad to Glacier National Park—for all of their sakes. The weather service predicted a calm April weekend, and the wondrous outdoors beckoned everyone, including the infirmed. The backpack trip would give Conrad newfound confidence, Aiden insisted. Daniel could not disagree. Life really wasn’t so horrible on America’s backcountry trails.
After Daniel gave Aiden the wooden cutout of the US map he made with his new computerized cutting tool, Aiden set it aside and rummaged through their stash of topographical maps from the chest in their bedroom. Daniel was surprised Aiden picked Packers Roost for their hike with Conrad. They hiked the same trail when he and Aiden ran into each other by chance, nearly a year to the day after they met in Illinois.
Reason told Daniel that this was one of the few trails inside Glacier Park clear of snow in April, a good two months from prime tourist season. But why not backpack the Swan Range, or closer to their house in the Salish Range?
Glacier National Park rose as the gem of northwestern Montana. Who wouldn’t want to travel there? Daniel conceded that visiting the Flathead Valley without seeing the national park would be like visiting Henry, Illinois, and ignoring the Amish.
He gazed westward at the ribbon of trail they had eaten up in the past three hours. Normally they’d cover the moderate seven-mile trail in half the time and would have been setting up camp by now. They needed to go extra slow for Conrad’s sake. Although he was no novice (Aiden explained how Conrad introduced him to backpacking), his cancer and the treatments weakened him.
Conrad and Aiden reached Daniel. Conrad, huffing and puffing, smiled and wiped sweat from his forehead. He had begun wearing a skullcap to conceal his spreading baldness. Daniel noticed his body changing too. He was thinner. Yet he had a youthful appearance, not as sickly as one might have expected. His borrowed hiking pants hung low in the seat, but when he bent over to adjust the old boots Aiden lent him there was no denying some muscle tone remained.
“This is some hike,” he said, standing straight. “More than what I was used to back east. Remember, Aiden?”
“We had some pretty decent switchbacks,” Aiden said, coming up behind Conrad. “Like that trip in Boiling Springs.”
Conrad released a breathy chuckle. “That was our first big climb.”
“We were so competitive,” Aiden said, snorting. “Who was the strongest? Who was the fittest? Who could reach the summit the fastest? Male combativeness,” he said with an uncharacteristically sarcastic deep-voiced grunt. “We began to compete for everything.”
“You’ve got the upper hand this time. I wasn’t sick then.”
“You’re hanging in okay,” Aiden assured him with a pat on his shoulders. “Drink some water and rest a minute.”
The thick stench of skunk rose up from the forest below. Daniel moved ahead, placing his hand on their single protection, an eight-ounce canister of capsaicin bear deterrent. He pressed along the trail, not bothering to look back to see if Aiden and Conrad followed. He advanced upslope to the next switchback. Again, he did not look back.
Weighted by his sixty-pound pack, he took to the trail steadily. Fresh sweat beads broke loose and singed his temples. He wiped them away, inhaling the scent of pine. His farm-honed plain sense of smell told him snow lurked close by. That meant they were nearing the plateau and the north-facing slopes covered with leftover snowfields that did not melt until midsummer. Their campsite would be only a few miles from there, an easy downhill trek.
He focused on the pine trees that leaned into the slope and tried to garner strength from their sturdy pillar-like trunks and erect branches that offered their green foliage to Heaven. They had such purpose and vitality. Seeing Conrad slouch as he rounded another switchback, Daniel wondered—what did he have? Disease? Death?
Or perhaps Conrad had Aiden as his dependable pillar.
The view to the right provided Daniel with the resurrection to appreciate life and Aiden. The mountains, purple and proud, rose above the emerald charm of the park. This was what Aiden and Daniel wanted in coming to Montana. Away from home, Daniel and Aiden might breathe easier helping their sickly guest. Daniel understood that Aiden’s idea coming to Glacier was as much for Daniel as it was for Conrad.
The path is to be prepared in the wilderness, states Mathew in the New Testament.
The sound of Aiden and Conrad conversing with each other trickled up the trail. Their voices were light and, in between Conrad’s heavy breathing, full of amusement. Once the trail leveled off at eight thousand feet, an opening in the forest provided Daniel an opportunity to stop and wait for Conrad and Aiden to catch up before their final descent into their campsite. About fifty yards from where Daniel stood, a family of mule deer drank from a small puddle left behind from snowmelt.
Aiden and Conrad’s voices grew louder. “My legs are burning,” Aiden said once he reached Daniel. His smile filled the small glade. Daniel could not help but allow Aiden’s boyish enjoyment to infuse him.
Aiden circumvented Conrad and Daniel and snapped a few pictures of the mule deer with his digital camera. Next, he insisted on posing everyone for group and couple pictures. Aiden took one of Conrad and Daniel, Conrad took one of Daniel and Aiden, and Daniel took one of Conrad and Aiden, and Aiden set the camera, with the timer on ten seconds, on a low tree branch to snap a photograph of the three of them.
Sunrays cutting through the tree branches from the west and casting a golden haze about them told Daniel they needed to keep hiking if they were to have enough daylight hours to set up camp and make supper. Keeping to the rear this time, Daniel nudged them along.
As the trail narrowed, their voices became muted, and eventually they ceased speaking. They advanced step by step through an ankle-high snowfield. Daniel focused on the goal at hand, which was to reach camp. A few paces ahead of him, Aiden swung his arms wider and his head pressed forward, blazing through the bushes, which changed from north-facing dwarf pines to taller blue spruce and red cedars. With the shallow snowfield left behind, they turned eastward and picked up speed toward camp.
“We have the entire place to ourselves.” Aiden’s voice echoed in the expansive clearing once they broke through the towering trees for their campsite. “Not a soul here. I only wish the park allowed dogs so Ranger could have come with us.”
Aiden dropped his hefty backpack against the trunk of a massive red cedar. Same spot where he and Daniel surrendered to their longing inside Aiden’s tent for the first time. Did Aiden remember that special moment? Had he claimed that spot for a reason?
Blue eyes sparkled at him from the edge of the forest. Aiden, like an excited boy, circled the designated camp area, ogling Daniel. No doubt he did remember their fateful meeting from a few years before and, by the look in his eyes, was reliving their encounter. But no room for romance with Conrad present and the three sharing a tent.
Conrad sat on a rock outcropping, smoking a cigarette and staring off through the forest, the small of his back curved, while Daniel and Aiden unfurled the tent, laid out the tarp, and erected the tent poles.
Daniel grabbed a few toiletries from Aiden’s pack and cookware and food from the bear canister they’d retrieved from the ranger station, and he and Aiden hooked their three backpacks on tree nodules far enough out of reach from pesky forest animals.
Aiden started supper in the preparation area while Daniel washed in the nearby creek. The sound of snapping twigs drowned out the gurgling of the running water. From the trees, mule deer spied on him. He rinsed his hair and washed his face and beard, unconcerned about his new company.
The deer family followed him near camp, making sure to keep to the edge of the forest. They were waiting for the men to finish their meal and disappear inside their tent so that they could flush out of the woods and forage for crumbs.
When Daniel cleared the creek trail for camp, Conrad and Aiden were bent over a boiling pot of water. They brought along freeze-dried lasagna, and with the changing direction of the wind Daniel smelled the spicy tomato sauce. Instantly his stomach growled. He handed Aiden the toiletries so he could wash and swapped places with him. Conrad followed Aiden down the creek trail.
Daniel had supper served when they returned. They ate about fifty yards from the tent while sitting on fallen trees, and chatted about the beauty that surrounded them. Despite his present misgivings, Daniel imagined building a cabin on that spot and living like a frontiersman. He had escaped there prior to his first marriage to Esther, and then again before he was to wed Tara Hostetler. During that last breaking away, Aiden and Daniel had met and soon expressed their love, the kind that required no justification, even to God, Daniel dared to believe.
Once they had eaten, cleaned their supper ware, and collected enough firewood for a fire later that night, Aiden asked Conrad if he was up for a hike to the old stone fire tower.
“How far?” Conrad asked.
“Only a short twenty-minute hike. The side trail is right over there. There’s still enough daylight left to get there and back with time to enjoy the view.”
Taking the lead, Conrad said that if Aiden was up for an extra hike, so was he. Daniel dragged behind. The hike took longer than usual, since Conrad stopped several times to catch his breath. About forty minutes later, they reached the top—the apex of the Western Continental Divide.
As usual, the panoramic view from the fire tower snatched Daniel’s breath. Conrad did not seem interested in the three-hundred-sixty-degree spectacle of blue glaciers and awakening waterfalls glistening in the light of the weakening sun. Nor did he appear impressed with learning the fire tower was older than the park.
Daniel, wanting a moment to appreciate the scenery alone, stepped away from Conrad and Aiden. The western peaks, extending higher than those on the eastside of the park, blocked the wind at that hour of the afternoon. Not until nightfall would the winds rush down the mountains and fill the plateaus with a chill. He experienced a near out-of-body experience, seeing God’s glory around him. Did he dare say he beheld the world from Heaven’s perch?
Aiden and Conrad moved to the stone steps. They sat shoulder to shoulder, gazing toward the west where Mineral Creek, like an icy blue ribbon, meandered through the glacier carved valleys. Taking small, hesitant steps, Daniel rejoined them.
“What do you think of our backyard?” Aiden asked Conrad.
Conrad squinted toward the sun. “This is what you’ve always dreamed, Aiden. Looks like you found your little bit of paradise.”
Daniel listened. They did, indeed, stand in the midst of paradise. But uncertain emotions returned. He glanced down at Conrad’s skullcap. His shoulders, pointing through his long-sleeved hiking shirt, hunched forward with an annoying indifference. Perhaps the severely ill, beaten by invading disease and intrusive treatments, lacked the concern for earthly things, like mountains and streams.
Then he remembered little Leah, barely able to move a muscle, and how her face would beam when given the simple gift of a faceless Amish doll.
Conrad stood with a stretch and wandered toward the talus slope. Aiden warned him to watch his footing. Daniel used to caution Aiden about his step. Nowadays, Aiden seemed more capable and less the klutz he remembered from when they first met.
Aiden trailed after Conrad while Daniel hovered in the background. Above the rustling wind and the barking osprey, Daniel overheard bits and pieces of their one-on-one conversation.
“Don’t forget to take your pills before you go to bed tonight,” Aiden said.
“I would have left them at home like I wanted if you hadn’t forced me to bring them.”
“You can’t skip those pills, you know that.”
Conrad said something, but it was lost in the wind. Aiden said, “It’s a fact of life you have to get used to. I’ll get you one of those pill planners to make it easier. My grandpa had one.”
Daniel realized that Aiden had thought his last comment about his grandfather was perhaps insensitive and wished he hadn’t said it. He recognized the tilt to his head, and the staring off and away. The same posture he took whenever overcome by embarrassment.
The wind and barking osprey swallowed Aiden’s next comment. Conrad shook his head over and over toward his borrowed boots. “Aiden, I… I… I wish things were different. I really wish things were different.”
Aiden draped an arm around his back and patted his shoulder. “I know you do. I do too. But we can’t change what’s happened. We can try to shape what’s to come. Taking your medicines, keeping positive, that’s all part of that.”
A shadow of a smile appeared on Conrad’s face when he turned to Aiden. Daniel stepped back a pace, but stopped himself, unsure why the sense that he was intruding should attack him there, in Glacier National Park, near where he and Aiden first consummated their commitment to each other.
“Just look at the beauty, Conrad,” Aiden said louder, pointing toward the purple crags rising above the emerald expanse. “I remember the first time I saw it. I couldn’t believe it. Remember how it was when we hiked to Annapolis Rock overlooking South Mountain? This is one hundred times more breathtaking.”
“God speaks through nature.” Daniel stood behind them now.
Aiden jerked around and brought his arm to his side. “Daniel, you scared us.”
“I didn’t intend to.”
Aiden waved him closer. “Come stare at nature with us.”
“I can see plenty from here.”
“More talk of God, Daniel?” Conrad snickered. “Okay, you can have your god.”
Daniel allowed Conrad’s comment to pass over him. He was a sick man who railed against the goodness that Daniel’s Anabaptist God represented. His slur came as gently as the scree that trickled downslope when Conrad, agitated and forlorn, kicked his feet.
Nonetheless, Daniel wanted to escape him for a while. The howling winds in the forest below, which often brought lonesomeness, called Daniel forward. He turned for the trail back to camp.
Behind him, he heard the steps of Aiden and Conrad move off the overlook. He kept a steady pace down to camp without looking back. No other hikers claimed the five campsites reserved for backpackers while they’d romped around the tower. Strangely disappointed, Daniel set about forming a fire teepee.
“Come on, Conrad.” Aiden’s voice traveled among the trees as he and Conrad entered the camping area. “The woods aren’t always about silent introspection. Let’s have fun.”
Aiden’s enthusiasm filled Daniel with dizzying warmth. Moments like that would pull him to Aiden and, surrounded by towering trees and woodland animals, he’d kiss him fully, unconcerned if any unexpected hikers saw. Not that trip. Not with Conrad near glued to Aiden’s side.
Daniel struck a match and laid it to the shreds of newspaper they packed, thinking about Solomon’s proclamation to “live life to the fullest.” Solomon also warned that “death is certain… the Great Equalizer.”
Aiden maintained an upbeat attitude as the three gathered about the growing fire. Regardless of the circumstances, Daniel made the best of their excursion. The sharp slices of pink sun disappeared beyond the western peaks and the sky turned indigo. The flames reached higher and illuminated their blank faces.
The honking of Canada geese flying above penetrated the sudden quiet of evening twilight. The geese were on their way to Lake MacDonald or one of the thousands of glacier lakes that dotted the park. Aiden’s gaze dropped northward, toward the old fire tower.
“I wonder how much longer we can enjoy this,” he said, surprising Daniel with his sudden somber tone.
Daniel spied him through the flames that cast shadows over his face. The light lines around his mouth and nose seemed to deepen. “What do you mean?”
“How long before everything in Glacier Park turns into a swamp,” Aiden answered Daniel. “How long before the strip-mining operation destroys everything?”
No one spoke. With the passing of the geese, the forest descended into utter stillness. Not even the gentlest breeze or the crackling fire interrupted their sober contemplation.
Then Aiden sat strong and flexed his shoulders. “Why worry about what might never happen? It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it? Wasn’t it me who said to give up on all this philosophical shussliness?”
Daniel smiled through the fire at Aiden’s use of “shussly,” an old Amish word Daniel often used when he wanted to describe something that he found silly. Light chatter replaced the severe quiet. Aiden mentioned his and Daniel’s fishing excursions, and he also recounted the many backpacking trips he and Conrad took years ago.
The Appalachian Trail sounded like an interesting place to Daniel, but he could not fathom anything matching the grandeur of what surrounded them now, even in shadows. He was happy to be there. Still, as night brightened with the rising moon, he wanted to prolong climbing into the tent with Conrad.
When Conrad stood and stretched, for a moment Daniel relaxed, glad that he might make his way inside the tent first. Then Aiden stood along with him, his bones cracking against the night. Both announced they were tired.
Daniel was about to let them go alone, but Aiden squatted down beside him, laid his droopy head on his shoulder, warmed by the waning fire. “You ready, Daniel?”
Daniel tossed the stick he’d been using to poke at the fire into the flames. “I guess I could use some sleep.”
The sleeping arrangements were as awkward as Daniel had imagined. Though they had a four-man tent, there was barely room for three adult males, especially with Daniel’s six-two frame. Conrad claimed the sleeping bag farthest from the tent flap. He was tucked in by the time Daniel followed Aiden inside.
What did other people do in similar situations? Would his parents or Mark and his wife sleep with an old lover in one tent?
By the time Daniel unholstered the bear spray and removed his boots, the sound of Aiden and Conrad’s slow breathing indicated both had fallen fast asleep. He heard the mule deer encroaching on their campsite and beginning to fidget around the doused campfire. Soon, the nervous rustling drew Daniel into a jittery sleep.
He awoke to a green glow, glad to find his tentmate, Conrad, missing. He took the opportunity to kiss Aiden’s cheek. A kiss would have to do. Aiden stirred, but remained snoozing. Daniel quietly unzipped the tent flap. He was fully dressed, for he had felt strange stripping naked the way he normally would before slinking inside his zero-degree bag. He slipped on his boots, holstered the bear spray, and crawled outside.
He looked forward to experiencing the first chill of dawn and the smell of crisp pine. Instead, his senses were assaulted by the stench of cigarette smoke.
Conrad sat on a log, smoking. The wind directed the smoke into Daniel’s face. He scrunched his nose.
“Good morning,” Daniel said, lacing his boots and trying not to sound disgusted with Conrad’s habit.
Conrad dragged on his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Good morning. Sleep okay?”
“Good enough, considering.”
Daniel walked off his stiff muscles. This was his and Aiden’s first overnighter since autumn and his legs and back muscles had cramped up. He moved farther away from Conrad’s cigarette and pulled down their backpacks from the red cedars. At the food preparation area, he warmed the butane stove for breakfast, one eye peeled for Conrad.
Aiden awoke, and the sound of his happy chatter filling the somber morning chill warmed Daniel’s spirits. He smiled at him across the campground and hoped Aiden would notice him and smile back. Instead, he went straight to Conrad, who stood and stretched. At least he had the decency to flick his cigarette butt into the cold fire pit with the ashes from last night’s fire.
It wasn’t until Daniel, Conrad, and Aiden began to dismantle the tent, waiting for the water to boil, that Daniel gave thanks that they had planned for a one-night trip. An extra night sleeping with Conrad in the tent would have pushed him to his limits.
Lighter on his feet, he left Conrad and Aiden rolling the tent and he attended to breakfast. They ate oatmeal and drank hot green tea as the sun crowned the eastern snow-capped peaks. Daniel gazed around at the panorama of pure nature: sky, mountains, trees, earth.
With their backpacks secured, they headed for the trailhead and Daniel’s awaiting truck. They came across the same skiff of snow shielded by blue spruce and juniper groves. Daniel waited impatiently for the sun to rise higher above the tree canopies to warm his chilled muscles. The dampened earth hushed the snap of leaves under their boots, and their early morning trek was all the more serene and purposeful.
The mostly downhill trek took half the time as the hike in, and the sight of the shiny burgundy Suburban through the trees at Packers Roost Trailhead before lunchtime brought the typical sense of accomplishment for Daniel. Nothing could replace the pride Daniel felt after completing a rigorous hike.
Nothing, perhaps, other than the love he bore for Aiden, who was presently occupied helping Conrad slip off his small backpack and ensuring he had enough water to drink.