Chapter 1
John had backed out. Kevin hadn’t surprised me, when he’d told me two weeks before that he’d changed his mind. I’d been amazed he’d signed on for the trip at all; his idea of a vacation was a resort, somewhere with regular meals and golf or tennis, with a handy beach or pool nearby. I’d been on a few weekend camping trips with him and he never really seemed to enjoy it.
I’d counted on John, and now he’d backed out just days before we were supposed to leave. He explained that a lot was going on at work, which was just an excuse, and we both knew it. What it came down to was that he’d wanted to go, and signed on for the trip, and I’d counted on him. Then his girlfriend decided she didn’t want him to go off with a pal for ten days without her…guess who won that little battle?
So I was left with reservations it was too late to cancel and people across the Midwest who expected me and a friend to come by for a visit. I debated the wisdom of going at all; on one hand it would be less fun if I went alone. On the other hand it could be more interesting; I could go where I wanted and see what I liked without having to consider somebody else’s desires.
The real drawback was the driving; more than three thousand miles in less than two weeks, with no one to spell me at the wheel. I’d once driven to New York on my own, in one day—Seventeen hours, and by the time I’d arrived my arms and back seemed permanently cramped and deformed. I’d spent two days crawling through theatres and nightclubs before I stopped feeling like a cripple. The driving worried me, so I dithered and lost much of the enthusiasm I’d had earlier for this trip.
The night before my vacation started John dropped in to see how things were going.
“Still packing?” he asked casually when I answered the door. I had my arms full of folded T-shirts.
“Uh-huh.” I said coolly, leading him inside. Actually, I was still wavering about whether to go or just forget the whole thing and eat the reservation deposits. While trying to make up my mind I’d been doing laundry and cleaning house, which doesn’t really help in making decisions but does make you feel like you’re getting something done.
“Get anyone else to go?” he asked, hopefully.
“Nope.”
“Driving all that way by yourself?” he said, surprised.
“Sure.” I answered, making an instant decision and committing myself.
“What time are you leaving?”
“Still have to pack, and in the morning I’ll buy boots and be on my way.”
“You’re getting new boots? You should have gotten them weeks ago and broken them in.”
“Didn’t have the chance to. Been really busy at work.” A sharp zing at his feeble excuse. “Grab a beer if you want; I’ll be right back.” And I headed down to the basement.
In a small hallway in the building’s basement were a series of storage lockers, made of rough pine boards. They looked like animal stalls in a slipshod barn. After throwing my wet clothes in the dryer I opened my locker and pulled out several boxes. Then I carried the next batch of laundry up to where John was flipping through channels, looking for something to divert himself.
“Hey, would you help me bring up my stuff?” I asked. He rose and helped haul several boxes of gear upstairs. Then he and I began sorting out what I would need to bring.
“You hitting the water?” he asked, holding up a dilapidated life jacket. I shook my hand, since my teeth were holding a strap while I adjusted the frame on a backpack.
A sleeping bag, small tent, lantern and air mattress went into the “go” pile. The lifejacket and a couple of lawn chairs went into the “useless for this trip” pile. A few things went into a third pile, which was “maybe”; a fishing pole and tackle box, a large propane stove, several different sized coolers. Decisions on what to bring involved several factors; whether the thing would really be useful, whether there was enough space in my car or backpack; and how much it would contribute to my comfort and well-being during the trip. Lawn chairs would be nice to have, but much too bulky to carry. On the other hand I might not NEED a raincoat or first-aid kit, but if I did and they weren’t there then my trip would be miserable indeed.
“Anything else you need?” John asked, beginning to feel antsy. I was carefully stowing essential items in my pack, things that went on every trip.
“Actually…would you mind picking up a couple things at Walgreen’s for me?”
“Sure.” He answered. I could see him mentally checking the time and explaining himself to Melissa. She’d won the big one, though; she could afford to spare him for an hour or two. I ran through a rapid list of stuff; film, batteries for flashlight and camera, a bottle of aspirin, freeze-dried coffee. He began to look disgruntled, so I sent him off before he could complain.
After he’d left I sat for a few minutes, studying the pile. Things should have been more carefully planned; I’d made reservations months ago, so there was no reason why I should be rushing to pack everything the night before, not to mention having to buy things as basic as fresh batteries. The original plan had been to go off with a couple of old friends who’d been drifting apart, to renew old ties. But after John’s visit I was determined to go, have a great time, and let him know what a fun trip he’d missed--even if it was pure hell. I began rooting through my laundry, selecting clothes to pack.
