After loading the backpack with water, food, a first-aid kit, and a flashlight, Ben rummaged through the coat closet for warm outerwear and gloves. When they got outside, he asked for her keys.
“I can drive.” Ro was offended.
“I know you can. But I know where I’m going. Don’t argue for once. Let’s just go.”
Her Explorer handled well, especially on Hyde Park Road where the road was paved. He wasn’t exactly going pedal to the metal, but he made good time, looping around curve after curve, leaving the city and entering national forests with steep mountains filled with pines and scented air that wafted upward from the detritus. They twisted around miles of untamed nature: ponderosa and pi?ons, sycamores, cottonwoods, Russian olives, red sumac, and golden aspens. When he was closer to the spot, Ben slowed down, allowing Ro to take in the scenery.
“This is beautiful,” she admitted. “I never knew this existed. You do this often?”
“I like to hike, especially at this time of year. Just wait. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” Climbing higher until traffic suddenly backed up to a crawl, they ascended the two-lane highway at a snail’s pace until the car made the twist around the final bend and the mountainside came into view.
Ro gasped. And even though Ben had seen it many times before, it never failed to impress.
The entire surface above and below was covered in pure gold—acres upon acres of deep yellow quaking aspens. The richness of the hue was otherworldly but it was especially brought out by an intense blue sky. It was an abundance of pure color. Cars had slowed down to gawk, allowing Ro to drink in unadulterated artwork provided by nature.
“Are we getting out?”
“Not yet, but we will.”
“How could anything be any prettier?”
“All we have to do is add water.” He drove for an additional fifteen minutes until they reached Big Tesuque. Parking, as expected, was hard to find, but someone pulled out just as they arrived. Ben backed into the spot, turned off the motor, and they got out. He slipped on his backpack and checked his watch. “I think we’ll be okay. You can use the john if you need to.”
“How long will the hike take?”
“Couple of hours maybe.”
“Two hours?”
“You’re such a city girl.” He grinned. “Bathroom, yes or no?”
“Is it gross in there?”
“It’s a park, Ro.”
“Flushing toilets?”
“Dream on.”
“Ugh.” She used the facilities and came back out. “Ugh times two.”
He took her hand. “C’mon.”
The rise of the trail was in gentle steps surrounded by amber aspens and the music of Big Tesuque Creek. At this time of year, the level was high, water rushing down the mountain rather than in its usual trickle. Though the trail was a corridor of yellow, there were other hues to break it up: the deep red leaves of the sumacs, wild daisies, deep burnt-orange Indian paintbrush, and white columbine. The chamisos were shedding the last of their canary flowers. The ground still held some greenery and some scattered wild alpine strawberries, tiny and dry.
Off the hiking trails was the usual queue of small tents near the creek. There were also artists with easels painting poor representations of nature. The trail wasn’t packed but there were plenty of people—common at this time of year.
“Okay?”
“I’m fine.” Ro walked with deliberation, grabbing Ben’s hand and latching on to it for support. As they climbed the mountain, her breathing quickened.
“How far is it?”
“We’ve just begun.”
“I dunno about this. How high is this?”
“Around nine thousand feet.”
“Good God!” She was huffing and puffing. “People are actually breathing and talking at the same time.”
“Rest a moment. We’ve still got a long way to go.”
“Seriously?”
Ben smiled and waved at a couple in their seventies.
“Gorgeous day,” the white-headed woman said.
“Don’t get better than this,” he answered.
They resumed the hike, climbing upward as the path twisted and turned, the ground beneath them damp from the rains, until a line backed up at the first stream crossing. The logs were almost submerged but there was enough wood visible to cross without a problem if one was careful in stepping. Ro’s eyes got big. “I’m not doing that.”
“You’re not exactly fording the Mississippi,” Ben told her. “It’s like six feet across.”
“I’m not doing it,” she repeated.
He pulled his hand away. “You have two choices, Ro. You go up with me or you go down by yourself.”
“I really don’t like you.”
People were lining up behind them. He said, “Up or down.”
She grabbed his hand. “If I fall in, I’ll kill you. You go first.”
“I can’t help you if I’m in front of you.” He picked her up by the waist and placed her on the log. Then he came up behind her, holding her hands outward like they were walking on a tightrope. Ben smiled to himself. It was ridiculous because the distance was so short, but there was a first for everything. “One foot in front of another. Almost there.”
“This is embarrassing.”
“You’re fine. No one cares.”
When she reached the other side, she hopped off. She looked upward. “That’s kind of a steep incline.”
“No, it isn’t. Keep going.”
She sighed and plowed forward. Upward, upward, upward. It was comical. Dogs were bounding up the pathway. People in their nineties with canes were passing her by. Toddlers were passing her by.
“I have a cramp,” she said.
“Where?”
“Everywhere. Why is this considered fun? It’s got nothing to recommend it at all.”
“Nothing?”
“Okay. It’s pretty.”
“Yes, it’s pretty,” he said. Especially when the trail widened into an open meadow filled with autumn wildflowers. The line grew sluggish. People had stopped.
“What’s going on?” Ro asked.
Ben pointed to a black furry thing sitting in a pile of bushes about fifty yards from where they were standing. “Black bear over there. He’s storing up for the winter. Probably some berries still on the ground.”
She went pale. “What do we do?”
“Nothing. It’s happy. It won’t bother us. Just keep going.”
“What if it likes my perfume?”
“If anything, he’ll eat me first.”
“You have no fat on you. He’ll eat me first.”
“You’re lean yourself. Maybe he’ll take that guy over there. He’s got a gut.”
Ro laughed. “How about that woman over there?”
“Way too scrawny.”
“How old is she? About a hundred?”
“Maybe more.”
“She’s in better shape than I am.”
“A lesson for us all,” Ben said. “Keep going.”
They climbed up until they reached a second stream crossing. The trailhead ended at a paved service road. Ben pointed to the left.
Ro was aghast. “We’re not done?”
“Nope. But this is mostly level.”
“How high are we now?”
“Around ten and half, but we’re going down to about ten.”
“If we go down to ten, when we return, does that mean we go back up?”