Jenkins Trail Shelter Pt. 02

Chapter 2

This was a difficult year for me to prepare to hike the trail. I had just turned forty-seven this last spring, and it will be my twenty-fifth hike on the trail.

My employees gave me a big send-off, and I am supposed to spend the next eight weeks on the trail—just like I did in 1994. Even starting on the same day and slowly walking the trail, like I did that first time.

The trail may not have changed much over the years, but the people and the equipment have. My pack weight is now a fraction of what I carried back then. I now have a little cook stove and even bring my gourmet coffee with me. Long gone are the days of granola, and now my pack is full of protein bars, energy bars, and freeze-dried meals.

When I started walking this year, I felt that familiar sense of expectation and hope. But as the miles and the days passed, and I got closer to day seventeen and the Jenkins Trail Shelter, I could feel my hope diminish, with disappointment and depression start to replace it.

This would be my last year, I thought to myself, as I sat writing in my journal at Chestnut Knob Shelter. There was a chill wind rolling over the mountain top tonight, and I ended up getting into my wonderfully warm sleeping bag to stay warm. I was getting too old for this. For the first time, I felt in my heart that I would not ever find what I was looking for. Or rather, whom I was looking for.

I woke up the next morning, and I felt excited to take on the next ten-and-a-half-or-so trail miles. All day long, the weather along the ridge had been the same chill wind as all it had been all those years ago. I quickly covered the miles along the ridge, and as the trail started descending the hillside, my anticipation was rising. I realized I was looking forward to my evening at the Jenkins Trail Shelter.

I had a feeling of anxiousness and anticipation, with a touch of nervousness thrown in, as I neared the side trail to the shelter. I felt a sense of nervous confidence come over me, as I walked the short trail to the shelter. It felt like fate was leading me forward today.

It was still mid-afternoon when I entered the clearing, and I saw she had already started a small campfire to warm herself. She had on a flannel shirt and worn jeans that were different than what I remember. But dreams are funny that way.

She was, sitting on a log, warming her hands, just as she had been doing so long ago. Her long red hair was flowing down over her shoulders.

It was Lisa, and she looked just as she had twenty-four years ago. I just stood there staring at the ghost of my lost love. At that moment, I questioned reality.

Finally, I found my voice.

"Hey."

"Oh, come on in. Promise not to bite."

It was her—she looked exactly as she did in my dreams. Nervously, I laughed. She still had the same voice, the same accent, and the same lines. I decided to stick to the script, "You mind if we share the shelter tonight?"

"Not a problem." She walked over and held out her hand, "Name's Nikki."

Taking her hand, "Dave."

"What's your mileage, Dave?"

"Ah, taking my time this year, only have 170 for the last seventeen days."

"Well, everyone has their own pace, don't we?"

"Yeah, not as quick on the uphills anymore. Getting older now."

"Oh, you're not that old!"

"Twenty-fifth year on the trail."

"Oh, and old timer. You hike every year?"

"Never missed a year."

Then she said the darnedest thing, "This is my twenty-fourth year on the trail."

I looked at her. She did not even look to be twenty-four years old.

"Twenty-four? You don't even look that old."

"Just turned twenty-three, three and a half months ago.

I looked at her questioning her previous statement.

"Thought you said this was your twenty-fourth year on the trail."

She laughed at my confusion, "It is. Mom had me out here every year since I was born. Used to carry me in a tummy pack 'til I could walk the trail myself. We always used to stop here and stay the night every time. She seemed to like this shelter the most. I got my first blisters when I was three." She laughed.

I wondered to myself, who brings their three-month-old baby out on the trail? "Bit early in life to be putting trail mileage on. Your mom must have really loved the outdoors."

"She did, but she always seemed sad on the drive home."

"Yeah, I get the same way."

"Well, I am out here this year, kind of celebrating her love of the trail."

"Oh, she's not with you this year?"

"Cancer, she died last fall."

"Oh, that's heartbreaking to hear. I am so sorry that you lost your mom so early in your life. How is your dad doing, had to be rough."

"Never knew my dad. Has always been just me and mom against the world."

"Sorry to hear that. Sounds like a wonderful woman."

She looked sad, so I decided to change the subject. "I will be right back, getting some water."

When I returned, I set up my coffee maker and started grinding up the beans. I saw her looking at my setup. "Would you like some?"

"For an old timer, you sure have the latest equipment."

"Addictions, can't shake them. Coffee is a must."

When I poured the steaming hot water over the crushed beans, the aroma hit me in the face again. Every time, it would bring a smile to my lips when I breathed in the aroma of this blend.

"Smells good. Maybe I will take a cup." She handed me her tin.

Filling her up, I added, "Careful it's hot." I carefully handed it back to her.

"Mmmm, it's so good. Is coffee supposed to taste this good?" She took another big sip.

"Well, it better taste good when it's ten dollars an ounce."

She choked on the coffee she was swallowing. "You gave me, what?" she looked at the cup, "a hundred-dollar cup of coffee?"

"What?" I laughed, "no, the beans are ten dollars an ounce."

She shook her head, "Still too expensive." She tried to hand it back to me.

"No, no. You liked it, now you have to drink it."

She slowly sipped the coffee. "It is good," she admitted, reluctantly.

After finishing the cup of coffee, I set to getting my dinner together, "Have you already eaten?"

"Yeah, had something earlier."

The way she looked at my pack, I thought she might still be hungry. "I have extra, if you want some."

"No, I'm fine," she responded, quickly.

"Come on, make an old man happy and have some." I tossed her my food pouch.

She looked through the bag, looking at all the labels. "What is all this stuff? It's like a restaurant in a pouch."

"Freeze-dried dehydrated meals. The company that makes them has a culinary development team that comes up with the greatest recipes. You'll be surprised how good they are."

"Looks expensive." She tossed the pack back at me.

"I get them free." I tossed them back.

"What? Do you own the company?"

"It's an investment. Well, more like a favor to a lifelong friend, and in return, he gives them all to me. Tells me to share them with anyone I camp with. He says it's good advertising. I have another pouch with more if you don't find anything in there."

She looked through the packages again. "So how did you meet this friend that makes this stuff?"

"He was my roommate in college."

"Oh, is this one any good?" She was holding up my favorite, beef stew.

"Well, it's my favorite."

"Oh, I will get something else, then." She slipped it back into the pack.

"Nikki." I held my hand out.

"Hmm?" She still had not looked up.

"Nikki? Can I have the packet of beef stew? Please?"

"I don't want to eat your favorite."

"Believe me, I will get more enjoyment from watching you eating it, than I will get from eating it myself."

"Whatever." She gave up and found the packet and handed it to me.

I watched her take a tentative bite of the stew. I watched the look of amazement and contentment wash over her face, as she tasted it for the first time. She followed that with a larger bite, and then another. She had it all gone in just a couple of minutes.

"Would you like another?"

"I shouldn't, but it's so good."

"I have plenty to spare. Even if I run out, I can get more sent to me."

She looked at me. "What do you mean, sent to you?'"

"He just lives a few hours away. Just make a call and he will send someone out with whatever I ask for."

"Who are you?"

"Dave." I laughed.

"Oh God, you're rich, aren't you."

I laughed even harder, "Depends on what you call rich."

She was not laughing.

"Sorry," I said, trying to stop my laughter. "No, I am not rich. I just have some good friends. He says that for every meal I give away, he gets ten times that in new sales."

"Sure, that's what the rich are always saying to the poor people. Let me guess, you have a big house, too; don't you?"

"How big is big?"

"I knew it. You probably drive around in an expensive car, too?" She looked at me, "Yeah, maybe a Porsche?"

"No, I have a Tesla Model S."

"Okay, a guilty conscience that you are so rich that you got an electric car that no one but the rich can afford."

"What? No, lots of people have that car."

"I even bet you got the self-driving feature, so it could drive you around." She saw my look, "You did! I knew it."

She walked off towards the spring, muttering, "Rich people and their toys."

When she came back, she picked up her pack and tossed it in the shelter. I could see she already had her sleeping bag laid out in the corner. Seeing how she was not interested in any more food, I packed everything up and pulled out my bag. I heard a huff from her, when she saw my sleeping bag. Okay, yeah, it was expensive. But it was so light, and it stayed dry. Don't get me started again about how warm it was. Well worth the money.

I sat down with my journal and started writing about my day on the trail. I had just filled up a page and was starting on the next, when I felt her staring at me.

"Are you okay?"

"What are you writing?"

"Nothing really, just something I do on the trail."

"You write down everything in there?"

"Would you like to read some?"

"No," she said quickly, and turned back to the fire.

I tossed the notebook at her, and it landed in her lap. She looked inside it at the blocky letters neatly printed out. She sat there reading page after page.

She looked up and in a soft voice, "My mom used to talk about the trail like this." I could see the tears in her eyes when she looked up at me.

"You miss her." Well, that did it.

The tears started quickly dripping off her chin, as she quietly sat there reading my journal.

I went over, sat down next to her and put my arm around her. She reminded me so much of Lisa.

At my touch, her sobs escaped her. I pulled her into a deep hug. I just held her until she cried it all out. Eventually, her tears subsided, and she apologized for crying and getting her tears all over my journal.

I laughed, "It makes it more authentic with the tear stains. Are you okay?"

"Not really. I thought I was, and then I read what you wrote, how you wrote it. I remembered her love of the trail in the way you wrote all this. Then it just hit me all at once."

I took the journal and set it on the other side of me. "Sorry, if I had known it would bother you, I would not have given it to you."

"No, it made me feel better, but made me sad at the same time."

She pulled away and stood up, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Thank you. You seem like an okay guy, can you do me a favor?"

"Sure. What would you like?"

"It's been a few days, and we always wash up in the creek. I was just wondering if it's not too much of a bother, could you watch the trail for me?" as an afterthought and said, "Without looking?"

Her words crashed through me, taking me back to a woman that was her twin asking me that same question. "Sure," I slowly replied, realizing my reality was cracking.

As we walked down to the stream, I kept looking for the edges of the dream.

I kept a lookout as she splashed around in the water, cleaning herself. I only turned around when I heard her slip, climbing up the trail. I reached down to help her up the small drop-off at the edge of the stream bed.

Lifting her, I felt her fall into my arms, her wet hair falling over her shoulders and onto my arm. I looked into her eyes to make sure they were green like Lisa's. No, they were a bright blue.

I stepped back and cleared my throat. "I have a towel." She was still looking at me. "You can use it to dry your hair."

"It will dry." She started walking back.

I caught up and was walking beside her, "Well, the air is cold. You don't want to get a chill, do you?"

She turned and said, "I suppose if I don't accept, you will end up throwing it at me when we get back to camp?" She was looking sidelong up at me, giving me the most heart-stopping smile. It felt like my heart skipped a beat. I felt my head go light, and my legs go weak. I clutched my chest and went down to my knee. She panicked and bent down, "Are you okay? Please don't die."

"It's my heart," I looked up at her, looking into her face I smiled at her, "I am an old man, you can't smile like that expect me to survive it do you?"

She swatted my back, stood up, and huffed away in a fast walk.

I jogged to catch up, "Hey, don't be mad."

"You idiot, you scared me."

"Well, you did make my heart flip with that sexy smile of yours."

She looked at me again, and saw I was serious, and she smiled again. I clutched my chest dramatically. Laughing she shook her head.

"I am surprised you didn't look. Most guys do you know."

"I am not most guys."

"Yeah, I am figuring that out."

I got her the towel when we got back to camp—and tossed it to her. I saw the smile on her lips, as she caught it. I felt my heart flip again and something else came to life.

As I sat there watching her dry her hair in the firelight, I could feel my length extending down the leg of my boxers. When she tossed her fiery red hair back, I could feel it straining against the leg of my pants. She tossed the towel back at me, and I set it on my lap. Mostly to cover up my embarrassment.

Trying to take my mind off of the beauty sitting near me, I took out my phone and checked to see if there were any emergencies from the office that I would need to address.

"There's no service here."

"There is for me," I pointed at the sky, "satellites."

"Figures."

There were a few messages that I needed to reply to, but I responded to them in just a few minutes and was about to put the phone away, when I looked over and asked her if there was anyone that she would like to message or call.

"No. But, who do you have to check in with?"

"The office."

"What are you the boss or something?"

"If I answer that, are you going to call me rich again?"

"Well, you are."

"No, all the money goes back into my company. I have twelve employees, and they work hard for me. In return, I try to give them the most money and the best benefits I can, so there is not a lot left over for me. Just my house, and car. Oh, and this hike every year."

She sat there looking at me. I could tell my outburst had changed her opinion of me. Within that moment in time, the memory of Lisa flooded my mind, and it was Lisa I saw sitting there looking back at me.

I held up my phone and asked her, "Mind if I take one?"

She smiled, "If I say no?"

I started putting away the phone, and she said, "Hey, I was kidding. You can take one if you want."

I held up the phone and saved the image. I sat there looking at the screen, feeling my reality slipping away.

The photo reminded me so much of Lisa, she was sitting in nearly the same pose as Lisa had been with almost the same expression. It was like I was getting to relive the best evening of my life. Maybe I did die on the trail earlier today, and now I was in heaven.

I casually let Nikki see the picture before putting it away.

"Nice one. Looks like my mom."

Then it all clicked. "Lisa?"

"You knew her?"

I just sat there, looking at her. I could see the subtle differences between her and her mother now. Her nose was just a touch different, and her jaw was a bit wider.

I cleared my throat, "I thought I was just imagining it. It's been so long. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me."

"Then you did know her?"

"Yes. You look just like her, the way she did that night." I trailed off.

"How did you know her? Was it here on the trail?"

"Yeah," I was lost in my memories, they were all flooding back, "actually right here at this shelter."

We just looked at each other. Everything about Nikki reminded me of her mother.

Nikki said softly, "She never told me about the people she met on the trail."

"Well, you meet a lot of people out here." I tried to deflect, fearful of the questions she might ask.

"When did you meet her out here?"

"Just the once, a long time ago."

"But you remember her. She must have made an impression on you to remember a woman you met for one evening so many years ago?"

I nodded, "I never met anyone else quite like her."

"Did you two?" When I did not answer, she whispered, "You did... Did you love her?"

"We were young, but yeah... I did."

"You know she never married, never even dated anyone?"

"I got married, it didn't last long, but we had a daughter, she is eight now."

She got really quiet and I watched her staring into the fire for a long time. All of a sudden, she quickly looked at me and got a strange look on her face, her eyes going wide.

"What wrong?"

"Nothing. It's nothing," she stammered. "I'm just tired."

She stood up and walked over to the shelter. I asked her if she was going to turn in for the night, and she said she was. I offered to put out the fire, but she replied, "It's fine, you can leave it burning. It won't bother me."

But it did sound like something was bothering her.

She climbed up onto the platform and ducked to the side of the opening. I kept watching her out of the corner of my eye. I heard her pack open and then zip back up. I saw her bag moving around and then I saw her getting into it. I saw a flash of black panties under her shirt as she maneuvered to get in her bag.

I sat staring at the fire, thoughts of Lisa filling my head. My cock only got harder, as I relived the memories from a night so long ago.

With a huge sigh, I stood up feeling my pant leg straining against my erection. I adjusted it. I went over and picked up the bucket of water and poured it out over the fire.

I climbed up on the platform, turned my back, and slipped my cargo pants off, letting them fall. I slipped off my shirt and carefully climbed into the bag. I did not dare look over at Nikki, not with the memories of her mother so vivid in my memory.

Sleep would fix everything.

It was a familiar dream. One that I often dreamt of. She was in my arms again, my face in her hair. I could smell how wonderful she smelled, just like wildflowers. I pulled her closer to me, the feel of her warm soft body against my chest felt so good. I could hear her whispering to me, telling me how she missed me. I felt her fingers guiding me, just as she slipped me into her, I pulled her tight to me and kissed her shoulders and neck. I felt myself sliding deep inside of her. I felt her biting my hand again. If it was not for the small scar, I would have thought all of the memories were just dreams.

It was a wonderful dream, I loved having this dream. It is so comforting, to have the one you love so much in your arms, even if it is just a dream.

I woke up with a start. Someone was standing over me. I look up, "What? Who?"

"Dave, are you cold?" she repeated her whisper.

Oh, it was Nikki. I was annoyed that she had pulled me from my dream. "No," I whispered back.

"Unzip. You have one of them below-zero bags, and I am freezing."

I felt the cold frost in the air. "I can't." I could feel my hardness had not diminished since I fell asleep, and I was sure the dream had made me even more excited.