Friday, June 8th. Noon.
Hank turned off the highway at the Glassy Falls exit, pulled a quick right onto a side road and came to a stop in the parking area for the trailhead. His clients were here, and they looked more prepared for a Modest Mouse concert than a 20-mile hike. Wearing varying flavors of ironic t-shirts and skinny jeans, the four stood around a powder-blue Ford Falcon Futura and fiddled with their phones. They all had crufty-looking sneakers on, and the tall one wore a cowboy hat. Hank could hear the stereo blaring something guitar-heavy and sad, and it sounded like there was a blown speaker or two.
His own stereo had stopped working last winter, but it ended up being a blessing. He learned to listen harder, to find music in natural sounds.
The boys watched Hank pull up, then turned off the stereo and popped the trunk to access their "supplies". Hank got out of the Jeep and walked up to meet them.
"How you doin? Ready for the trip?"
"Absolutely!" replied Cowboy.
"Here are your packs," Hank said, tossing each of them a client pack. "Go ahead and throw anything you brought in there. I've set you up with a couple of tents, sleeping bags, mess kits, canteens, the usual."
Hank watched three of them stuffing wads of clothes into their packs, and noticed Cowboy trying to fit as many cans of beer into his pack as would fit. He wasn't judging him for the beer, but it meant Cowboy would be in for some extra fun with that pack weighing him down on some of the steeper hills.
"Well, I guess we should make things formal. My name's Hank; used to work for the Fish and Wildlife Service before this. Then I retired but just couldn't stay away."
"I'm Matt. Good to meet you man," said Cowboy.
"What's up, I'm Trev," said the one next to him. Trev was a lanky white kid, about 5'8" (5'11" with the hair).
The other two introduced themselves as Jabari and Paul. Jabari ("it means fearless") was about six-feet tall with a trucker hat and a recent-looking tattoo on his right bicep.
Hank turned off the highway at the Glassy Falls exit, pulled a quick right onto a side road and came to a stop in the parking area for the trailhead. His clients were here, and they looked more prepared for a Modest Mouse concert than a 20-mile hike. Wearing varying flavors of ironic t-shirts and skinny jeans, the four stood around a powder-blue Ford Falcon Futura and fiddled with their phones. They all had crufty-looking sneakers on, and the tall one wore a cowboy hat. Hank could hear the stereo blaring something guitar-heavy and sad, and it sounded like there was a blown speaker or two.
His own stereo had stopped working last winter, but it ended up being a blessing. He learned to listen harder, to find music in natural sounds.
The boys watched Hank pull up, then turned off the stereo and popped the trunk to access their "supplies". Hank got out of the Jeep and walked up to meet them.
"How you doin? Ready for the trip?"
"Absolutely!" replied Cowboy.
"Here are your packs," Hank said, tossing each of them a client pack. "Go ahead and throw anything you brought in there. I've set you up with a couple of tents, sleeping bags, mess kits, canteens, the usual."
Hank watched three of them stuffing wads of clothes into their packs, and noticed Cowboy trying to fit as many cans of beer into his pack as would fit. He wasn't judging him for the beer, but it meant Cowboy would be in for some extra fun with that pack weighing him down on some of the steeper hills.
"Well, I guess we should make things formal. My name's Hank; used to work for the Fish and Wildlife Service before this. Then I retired but just couldn't stay away."
"I'm Matt. Good to meet you man," said Cowboy.
"What's up, I'm Trev," said the one next to him. Trev was a lanky white kid, about 5'8" (5'11" with the hair).
The other two introduced themselves as Jabari and Paul. Jabari ("it means fearless") was about six-feet tall with a trucker hat and a recent-looking tattoo on his right bicep.
