Weekend Write-In Book 3

A Hike Up A Mountain

Prompt: Plan   

"Uncle Jim," I asked, talking for the first time in two hours, "Is this a deer path?"

He responded with a grunt I could barely hear and kept climbing the wooded mountainside. I took that as my answer, as I had only ever heard him say a dozen words in my eleven years. Knowing this didn't feel right, I began to reflect on my day to see where we went wrong.

Arcadia National Park was busy that summer and there had been plenty of people on the trail that morning. The last time I remember seeing or hearing anyone was at a crossroads on the trail. The small trail that veered off towards an outcropping where people took pictures of the countryside.

My uncle had taken that trail, but never turned back.

When I realized that part of the path had been over two hours ago my mouth felt dry. The plan had been to hike to the top of a mountain and meet my parents there, but here I was, still blindly following my uncle through poison ivy and who knew what else.

I cursed myself for leaving my pack in the camper. A cub scout should've known better, but this trip was a last-minute decision that had me jogging to catch up.

Faintly, and maybe it was my imagination, but I thought I heard the engine of a car in the distance. I paused, causing my uncle to stop and see what I was doing. There it was again; I was sure this time.

"There's a road that way," I pointed up a dried creek bed, "That has to be the road going to the mountain top. Shouldn't we go that way?"

He looked up where I was pointing and for a heartbeat, I thought he'd actually agree. I was wrong again. He turned back the way he was going and continued to climb.

Up until this very moment I had always followed an adult's lead and hadn't had a reason to challenge it. I was brought up to respect my elders and listen when they talked. I was waging a war inside to follow his lead or go where I knew people were, and probably my parents.

Another car drove by and it made up my mind. I left my uncle to climb the mountain by himself. I hurried up the creek bed tripping over loose stones along the way, but I didn't look back.

When I saw a car drive by through the trees, I finally looked back one last time and to my fascination, I saw my uncle climbing the dried creek bed.

Fifteen minutes later, and near the top of the mountain, I flagged my parents down. After yelling at me I explained what had happened. When my uncle finally emerged through the trees, they redirected that yelling towards him.

They laugh about it these days. The day an eleven-year-old cub scout defied an adult and made it out of the woods himself.