7

Trail mix Travails

Lilly refused Tristian’s offer to lighten her pack and with her head held high, she hoisted it to her shoulders. She might have staggered a bit, but couldn’t risk the misguided prince charming finding the doggy coats and brushes and treats. He might even come across Strudel himself, snoring within the confines of the dog purse that swayed gently against her back where she had tied it with a spare shoe lace. No, she would have to brave the “Glacier Peak Wilderness” on her own. Although, it appeared that the actual wilderness did not begin until they reached the 2.5 mile mark on the trail ahead. It looked sufficiently like a wilderness to Lilly. A plethora of trees and sky, with only a small parking lot and peaked wooden sign at the beginning of the Phelps Creek trailhead to hint at civilization.

A gentle snoring from her back reassured Lilly that Strudel had not smothered and would have a cushy journey up the trail to Spider Meadows. Lilly attempted to stretch out her leg muscles without dumping anything out of her pack. The dog purse swung forward with the movement, dragging her pack to the side. She heard a small yelp as Strudel slide down the purse’s silky fabric floor and bunched up at one end.

Tristian glanced her direction and shook his head. “This kind of pack was designed for combat situations, not recreational hiking.”

Lilly raised an eyebrow and ceased all stretching-related contortions. “Then it will be that much easier for me since I’m not running around with a gun and a table on my back.”

“A table?”

“It came with instructions and there was this soldier running around with a table and shooting, which I will not have to accomplish since I just wish to walk to the wilderness and take in the views.”

“It was probably a portable bunker. But my point is that this has virtually no padding. It’s built with a heavy metal frame and canvas straps, an accomplished hiker would find this pack a hindrance. An inexperienced hiker…”

“I would have you know that Strudel and I are regular hikers and I am not the least bit daunted. If you’re trying to scare me off, you haven’t’ succeeded. Those girls deserve a hike just as much as the boys do. I’ll see to it that they have equal opportunity!”

“Where exactly do you and your, um, breakfast pastry usually hike?” Tristian bent to zip up one of the many side pockets in his monstrous pack.

Lilly noticed that it contained toilet paper. How uncouth. Any respectable toilet would have its own paper. Why on earth would anyone carry around their own? Perhaps, Tristian had a phobia of strange TP? Yes, that must be it. “Strudel’s not—anyway, that is beside the point. The children appear to be ready. Why don’t we proceed?”

“Aren’t you going to change into your hiking boots?”

“My footwear is none of your concern. These sneakers have transported me though two highly strenuous exercise classes and can face any difficulties that arise upon the trail.”

“I see.” Tristian grimaced in her general direction, but did not move to force her into hiking boots.

Lilly gave him a short, stern smile and lurched forward. Her pack teetered a bit but she remained upright, even with a small mountain of clothing, food, and dog accessories upon her back. There, that wasn’t too bad. As long as she didn’t tip to the side…Lilly caught her hand on the Phelps Creek trail sign, quickly righting herself after a sudden and unexpected shift in weight as the dog purse swung crazily and her whole pack followed. Had any of her students seen?

Three cell phones pointed in her direction. One pink, one purple, and one sparkle phone. Emily, from class C was still wearing her purple hoodie. Thankfully, she was not flipping over anything.

Lilly did not want to deal with any injuries on this trip. She stole a peek at their fearless leader. Apparently he was Emily’s uncle, but she didn’t think a man who would let a child dangle over a cliff from a harness would save her from the sudden barrage of clicking phones. If he could keep the girl from doing summersaults all the way to Holden Village that would be something. Lilly cautiously approached her charges. “Greetings, Emily, and ah, yes, Natasha and Cloe. Are you excited about pitting yourselves against the rigors of nature and coming forth triumphant?”

More clicks as the cameras recorded her abysmal attempts at camaraderie.

Lilly forced a smile and turned to the trail. It didn’t look too difficult. There was no pavement, but the dirt path appeared smooth and free of obstacles. Surely, Spider Meadows was no greater distance than a loop around the park in Bellevue.

Tristian gathered the six boys and three girls at the trailhead sign. “OK then. I will lead, Miss Park will bring up the rear, and you guys can arrange yourselves between us as you please. This trail is well-maintained but you will come across several creeks. Not too much trouble, in only five and a half miles we’ll be there. Probably well before sunset.”

Before sunset? Lilly glanced at the bright blue evening sky. Surely they would be at their campsite long before then. Mr. Calvert was probably adding a bit of time to his estimate in case of injury. What could possibly happen in five miles? No one would get blisters on the first day; they all knew how to walk. It would be fine. Perhaps he was the overly cautious type. He did carry his own toilet paper, after all. Smoke jumping, ski instructor, river raft guide, none of his many occupations pointed to a man easily floored by frivolous worries. Something was off here.

Without further ado, Tristian Calvert started down the trail and the children meandered behind. Once their nine charges were on their way, Lilly cautiously put foot to trail. It wasn’t so bad. Her sparkly shoes didn’t seem quite as steady on dirt as on the gym floor, but the towering pack on her back necessitated caution anyway. It wouldn’t matter at the pace they were keeping to.

Strudel gave a soft squeak, but after a tense moment waiting for further dog-like disturbances, his snoring resumed.

Lilly let out her breath and concentrated on hiking. The trail did not consist of only packed dirt. Lilly was alarmed to discover that roots snaked down the loamy banks, small creeks actually flowed directly through the trail, and even fallen trees were present. The half-decayed logs slumped to the side of the trail were covered in mossy growth and looked appealing at first with their moist, forest-y scent and pleasing green decorations. But upon closer inspection, Lilly discovered that they were rife with insect life.

Fat, black ants marched in columns through the logs and shiny beetles scurried hither and yon.

Lilly gulped and scrambled back, thankful she had not rested against the cushy, green seat. A smattering of brightly colored wild flowers, yellow, white, and occasionally the deep pinkish red of an Indian paintbrush, scattered the banks surrounding the path. Sunlight slanted through the lichen-covered tree trunks creating stripes of light and shadow in a soothing pattern. Lilly felt her tension ease as she breathed deeply of the highly oxygenated mountain air.

Perhaps there were advantages to a more remote location, although, whatever forestry workers maintained the trail, they really should do something about all the creeks.

Lilly barely missed plunging her shoes into the trickling water on numerous occasions, actually having to jump across stepping stones twice. How many creeks could one trail possibly contain?

The thin straps of her army pack dug into her shoulders and a deep, persistent ache spread across her back. Lilly began to recognize what Tristian meant when he had talked about the metal frame of her pack board resting so close to her spine. The canvas that stretched between her shoulder blades could only do so much to keep the persistent metal from mashing against her back.

Lilly hopped across another creek, landed on a slick rock, and submerged her left shoe in the icy flow. Oh, my goodness! This never happened at the park. They knew how to build a trail in Bellevue. Lilly took a moment to imagine those talented park professionals gasping in horror as they stared at this sorry excuse for a trail.

The nine children in front were leaping across the creek.

Apparently, she was alone in her dismay. Lilly stumbled to a stop on the other side of the creek to assess the damage. Her shoe was soaked and her spare footwear was a pair of puffy pink slippers meant for wearing at their campsite. How long would it take to dry if she removed the shoe and hung it from a bush? Lilly glanced up.

The children were gone!

She dashed down the trail, sucking in breaths through burning lungs and staggering under the weight of the heavy and ill-fitting pack. Strudel’s purse swung crazily from where it was tied and the small dog slid back and forth from one end of the hand bag to the other. The movement was accompanied by several indignant growls and one huffy yip.

Finally, she glimpsed Emily’s purple hoodie just as the health tracker on her wrist beeped. Thank goodness, she had made it a mile. Time for a two ounce snack and five minute rest. Lilly waved her arms and tried to shout. Her breath caught in her chest. A desperate squeak escaped her lips instead of the firm command that she had imagined. She tried again. “Mr. Calvert.”

A few of the children glanced over their shoulders but no one slowed.

“Mr. Calvert. We have traversed a mile and now must rest and consume a small amount of sustenance.” Nothing. “Mr. Calvert!”

Emily tapped Cloe on the shoulder who tapped Juan who tapped Natasha who tapped Owen who tapped Ben who tapped Jacob who kicked Logan in the back of the leg who shoved Mason in the shoulder who then gave a theatrical gasp and declared: “Stop! Everyone stop! The Virgin Mary has a proclamation.”

Everyone turned and stared.

Speech evaded her for a moment. “Ah, yes. We have hiked our first mile, everyone, and you know what that means!”

“That we have four and a half miles to go and you’re slowing us down,” Mason mumbled over his shoulder to Logan.

“Hush,” Tristian said, putting a hand on Mason’s shoulder.

“Yes, but the article I read in City Hiker’s Weekly clearly states that a two ounce snack and five minute rest should occur after every mile traversed upon the open trail.” Lilly pulled her 1/8th cup measuring scoop out of her pocket and proceeded to measure each child’s handful of trail mix.

They stared at her with wide eyes for a moment, and then slowly extended their hands for the 1/8th cup scoop of peanuts and chocolate bits.

“Now, I have set the timer on my health tracker. It will beep when we have rested sufficiently.”

Mason tossed back his head and consumed his handful of food in a single gulp. He then turned to Mr. Calvert and proceeded to converse in a harsh whisper that every single one of them could clearly hear. “Are you insane, bringing her along? It’s been one mile, we’re never going to make it with her demanding snacks and rests and stuff.”

Tristian met the boy’s gaze without saying a word.

Silence stretched out and it was Mason who finally looked down at his feet.

Lilly’s health tracker beeped.

“You heard the lady. Grab your packs and let’s get going.” Tristian walked back along the line of children, checking packs and adjusting shoulder straps.

“Miss Park, I’ve got a blister already. Do you think you could…” Cloe held out her backpack imploringly.

Lilly noted that the girl did appear genuinely distressed. She reached out and took the pack. Goodness it was heavy. Her body lurched forward as she tried to encircle Cleo’s pack with both of her arms. Perhaps for just a few minutes, just to give the girl a chance to recover.

Mr. Calvert paused beside them. “No, no, and once again, no. You know the rules, Cloe. Everyone carries their own pack, the whole way. No exceptions. Unless you break a bone and it had better be a bone in your leg or foot because…” He waited for the children to finish his sentence.

Apparently they had heard this before, because all nine students, including Cloe, mumbled the response. “You can carry a pack with a broken arm easier than someone else can carry two packs.”

Lilly quickly handed the pack back and tried to hide her sigh of relief. Although, the miles ahead took on a kind of grim quality with the knowledge that no amount of injury to a non-leg part of her body would induce an offer of assistance. Yikes.

“How are you holding up?” Tristian whispered.

Lilly suppressed a groan as she hoisted the pack once more. “I’m fine, Mr. Calvert.”

“It’s Tristian, and I’m concerned that this pack board you’ve unearthed will rub your back raw. Let me know if you need a flannel or something to pad it.”

Lilly nodded. “Yes um, Mr. Cal—Tristian.”

“Yeah.”

“Where is the nearest restroom?”

“According to our map there is an out near the campsite.”

Horror curdled inside Lilly’s stomach. “An outhouse?” Lilly choked out. “Like in Little House On The Prairie TV reruns?”

“No, no house. This is just an “Out.” You’ll see.” With those cryptic words, Tristian lifted his pack and marched to the front of the line. He waved a hand and just like that, all nine children started out after him.

Lilly watched his retreating back wondering what on earth an “Out” could be and hoping that it was more elegant and well-built than the terrible little shanties featured in Gran’s favorite show.