Amy & Roger's Epic Detour

Or, more accurately, I ate breakfast. Roger ate the kind of meal usually reserved for holiday dinners and people with tapeworms. Luckily, it was a buffet, and all-you-can-eat, a policy I had a feeling they might be revising after our visit. As Roger came back with his third heaping plateful—this one focused on various meat groups—he raised his eyebrows at my plate. “Is that all you’re eating?” he asked.

“It is,” I said, taking a sip of orange juice. I’d already had oatmeal, two muffins, and a banana, which seemed like more than enough for me. “I’m pretty full.”

Roger shook his head. “You should carb up,” he said. He settled into his chair, picked up the Yosemite Guide we’d taken on our way in, and began reading it while eating a piece of sausage. “There’s a lot going on today—hiking, walks, something called Badger Pass—and you’re going to need the energy.”

He handed me the paper, and I pretended to read it as I looked at him over the top of it. “So how’d you sleep last night?” I asked as casually as I could.

“Great,” Roger said, but I noticed that he was concentrating very hard on his Canadian bacon. “I was out like a light. How about you?”

“Oh, fine,” I said lightly. I looked across at him and realized that there was more to Roger than I’d assumed. And that I was not the only liar sitting at the table.

“Hi, it’s Amy’s phone. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks!”

Beep.

“Hi, Amy, it’s your mother. I guess we’re playing phone tag. Glad you made it to New Mexico, and I hope by now you two are well on your way to Oklahoma. I called the Gallup Holiday Inn to make sure you’d checked in, but they had no record of you. But I didn’t get the impression the desk clerk really knew what she was doing. So just call me back so I’ll know everything’s on track.”

“This is beautiful,” Roger said, stretching his legs in front of him and looking around. We were sitting on the outside patio of the Curry lodge, taking in the scenery—the enormous pines, the stunning mountains, the sunlight filtering through the trees. We’d checked out of the cabin and put our things back in the car, but we were close enough to it that we would be able to see if some hungry-looking bears came wandering by. Roger held up his hand to block out the sun and pushed himself to his feet. “Sunglasses needed,” he said, pulling the car keys out of his pocket. He looked down at me. “Want me to get yours?”

Yosemite Hike-u

Led by Ranger Carl

Welcome to this place of Serenity and Natural Beauty! The Hike-u tradition has been around for seven years now, and it is one of our favorite parts of the Yosemite hiking program. Throughout the hike, we will have designated stopping times where you can record your Feelings on the paper below. Please try to keep to the 5/7/5 pattern. Keep longer Pieces and Ideas for the Sunset Sonnet Stroll or the Couples’ Couplet Constitutional.

ENJOY!

Yosemite Hike-u

Led by Ranger Carl

WORKSHEET

This is so stupid

Haikus are so very dumb.

Plus, getting blister.

—Amelia E. Curry

You were the one who

Wanted to go on the hike

Of Half Dome, ’member?

—Roger H. Sullivan

That was before I

Read the fine print, which was

Very very very very very scary.

—A.E.C.

Amy, I don’t think

Haiku are supposed to rhyme

Or repeat same words.

—R.H.S.

Yosemite Hike-u

Led by Ranger Carl

WORKSHEET

Is the plural of Haiku really haiku, Rog? I doubt it somehow.

—A.E.C.

Like mice, like moose, like Aircraft, plural is the same. And “Rog”? Stretching, “Ame.”

—R.H.S.

Ranger Carl is mad His face turns red when he yells, “Don’t hold up the group!”

—A.E.C.

Ranger Carl needs to Allow some slow people more Time to count meter.

—R.H.S.

Yosemite Hike-u

Led by Ranger Carl

WORKSHEET

Was that referring To me? I take some offense I just don’t like Carl.

—A.E.C.

Poor, poor Ranger Carl Yelling, red-faced, and sunburned And fly is open.

—R.H.S.

Wait, is it really? I had not yet noticed that—Oh my God. Hee hee.

—A.E.C.

“That’s okay,” I said, but I had a feeling this statement was belied by the fact that I had to squint to look up at him.

“Really?”

“Well,” I said, trying not to squint, but finding it physically impossible, “I don’t actually have any right now.”

“They had some in the gift shop,” Roger said. I’d seen them—they were mostly the sporty mirrored wraparound kind that people who were actually going to be climbing mountains bought. But I didn’t want any sunglasses.

“I’m okay,” I said firmly. Roger looked at me for another moment, then shrugged, heading to the car.

I closed my eyes and tipped my head back. It felt nice, like it had been awhile since I’d felt the sun on my face.

“Amy?”

I opened my eyes and saw an older woman standing in front of me, looking at me intently. She was standing right in front of the sun, and I could barely make her out. I stood up to see her more clearly. She was wearing hiking gear with a windbreaker tied around her waist, and she had close-cropped, curly gray hair. I took in all these details before something clicked into place in my memory. This was Cathy … Something. By coincidence, she and her husband had followed the same schedule as us for years. We’d always run into them when we were here, and we’d usually all end up sitting together in the dining hall. I think they’d even sent us a Christmas card once. Happy Holidays from the Somethings.

“Hi,” I said, trying to look like I hadn’t been just trying to place her. “Cathy,” I said, hoping that I’d remembered her name right, and dropping my voice a little on the last syllable in case I hadn’t.

“It is you,” she said, reaching out and hugging me quickly before I realized what was happening. “I’d recognize you anywhere, though my goodness, you’ve grown up! You’re such a beautiful young lady!”

Why were older people always saying things like this? Even after they were always telling us not to lie. I just nodded, because what was I supposed to say to that?