Amusing as they were, the rest of us aren’t terribly excited about Brent and Dean’s actions. Brase has been stone-silent to them. Brooke, the opposite : fire and brimstone would have been welcome relief from her lambasting. Even Cal had to admit, “That was a really stupid thing to do.” Though he was quick to forgive as well.
Despite creating ample Hallmark memories, that stunt is going to keep us from doing much more hiking today.
Brent borders on apologetic, but won’t actually admit blame. Dean remains resolute. “They put a groundhog in a glass box and say it can tell the future,” he said. “The hell with the whole place.”
Though things were tense for a while, moods have begun shifting. Sometimes resolution is a gradual thing. When conflict ends in neither party admitting culpability, it becomes a matter of incremental reconciliation. An apology might thaw the stalemate, but small gestures can chip away at that barrier just as surely. That’s where we all are now.
Brase, who is guilty of nothing more than prudently abandoning the scene, has worked out a compromise. A while back, he slowed down until he lagged behind the rest of us. With no warning, he picked up a flimsy twig and began assaulting the air, making a snapping noise with his mouth.
“I think he wants us to pick up the pace,” Brent suggested, glancing at his brother. A faint nod from Brase was followed by another round of cracking encouragement. We heeded the call; HAVE been heeding it for some time. We are really moving. It really isn’t necessary, Brase’s gesture, but I Know it’s for my benefit and I appreciate it.
“I never realized how much I wanted to be a sled dog until now,” Brent said after twenty minutes of the increased tempo. “Huskies have it made.”
Melt, baby, melt.
~~~
We’re going to hit around 12 miles today of actual trail hiking, not including our journey to, and hasty retreat from, the city-which-shall-not-be-named. Brase is speaking again and has assured me on behalf of the group that tomorrow is going to be a “tireless march.” None of the others argued, except Dean who muttered something about, “Why does the mountain lion get to set the pace?”
Again, a sweet but unnecessary gesture. I know they feel bad, but I haven’t said anything; haven’t tried to make anyone feel guilty. That has already been taken care of by other parties. Maybe I should be annoyed or offended, but how can I? I felt pleasantly light-headed long before Brase had us racing up mountains. Even a torch-bearing mob can’t take that away.
Plus, like I said, until things started to get ugly, the charade was pretty funny.
But am I going to refuse picking up some extra distance tomorrow? Of course not! Penance by pedometer sounds like a fine plan to me.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
~~~
Gotta keep these entries short. Efficient. Every time I stop, this pace makes the others open up a big lead. They are troopers, though. They just keep right on going.
For anyone wondering, sorry for omitting an important detail : we ate chocolate chip pancakes at the diner. Cal insisted we take advantage of the opportunity and who am I to disappoint my gluttony-buddy.
We put scrambled eggs between two pancakes. Syrup on that. Whipped Cream on that. Quite good. Sorry, Flapjack Conglomerate. Chain restaurants just can’t compete with the Ma’ and Pa’s for breakfast food.
~~~
Check that, 13 miles is our new goal/directive and I have been officially integrated into Brase’s sled team. If I stop to record, the whip cracks; I’m scurrying away again. Guy is taking this way too seriously. Done on my behalf, sure, but I suffer the consequences alongside the penitent. If I get brush burn from this flea collar, I’m going to be furious.
~~~
Well, we’re setting up camp. Actually, I should say : THEY’RE setting up camp. I’m just sitting here, removed from the process, while Brooke erects my tent on my behalf. Yes, that’s right, I’m not allowed to put up my own tent, because APPARENTLY the “monstrosity” I assembled last night was a “disgrace to humanity.” Remember, I have an easy set-up tent. It practically puts itself together.
Still, I’m happy to accept some good-natured emasculation, especially considering I’m an “incompetent city boy,” who is “incapable of fending for,” myself in the woods.
Ouch. Entirely true, all of it. To protect my dignity I’ve omitted describing the almost blasphemous misuse of canvas and metal poles that I’ve been calling a “tent’ for the last few nights. Now that the others have seen my handiwork, though, the secret is out.
I took a picture of my tent the first night, knowing full well what a disgrace it was. I just showed it to the others, prompting Dean to place his hand across his chest and say, “Oh, Prov, I’m so glad you survived that twister. Must’ve been a bad one.”
What do you want from me? I followed – tried… to follow… -- the instructions that came with the thing. The diagrams looked like they were drawn by a two-year old’s non-dominant hand. Which… I guess… is how my tent turned out as well.
It’s all in good fun, though. I just want to state that plainly. This really is a group – and I DEFINITELY include myself – that demonstrates its affection through playful abuse. I have neither busted nor BEEN ball-busted so hard in a three or four day span in my life. Some may think it harsh; I call it endearing.
Minus the Gobbler’s Knob setback, it’s been a good day, even if it did end with us literally running up a few not-insignificant hills. Like I said, Brase wasn’t messing around. We’ll see how well that pace, and those of us trying to maintain it, hold up tomorrow.
I talked to Brooke quite a bit. We hiked together for a few miles. Had some laughs – quite a few, actually. Some of them weren’t even at my expense, so that’s good!
… Actually, it really is good. Very good. Very confusing, to be sure, but I’m just treating this all as a do-over, a mulligan. Fresh start; no rushing. NO EXPECTATIONS.
She is a great friend, a great person. I’m so glad she ended up coming along with the others. When Brent and Dean parted on that log…
Apparently she had to call off some plans to make this work. She finally admitted to that. I told her--
Actually, I’m being hailed by Brooke right now. She just finished putting the tent up, so I suppose I--
Brooke! What are you doing?
But where am I supposed to--
Oh.
Uh. Yeah. Ok.
Be right there. Let me just shut--