As we set out, the trail seems different. Looks different. Not in a rose-colored glasses sort of way, because the terrain is still mostly tan and gray. But there’s a subtle shift in the guys, Maybe me too. It makes things seem a little brighter. I’m doing this. I’m going to do this. All the way to Canada. With them.
We stop for a quick picture next to the cobblestone obelisk bearing the brass plaque which marks the spot where the trail was connected and completed in 1993, sixty-one years after Clinton Clarke’s Pacific Crest Trail System Conference, where planning the PCT was first discussed.
Soon after, the trail actually does take on a rosy hue, as we pass outcroppings of pink sandstones. The rock formations in the area are fascinating, and I find myself wanting to stop every few minutes to take pictures. I’m surprised when Grinder lets me, though it doesn’t seem to be out of some form of pity for everything I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours. More like he’s letting himself enjoy the trail again, like he used to.
Around eleven, Nova begins bouncing around like a kid on his birthday. “We’re here,” he exclaims, jutting down a dirt road leading into a local park.
“Where?” I ask.
“Vasquez Rocks,” he says, pointing toward a large sandstone monolith to the west of us like that explains everything. “From the Star Trek episode we watched in Cajon Pass. Remember? I told you they filmed it nearby. Well, this is it. Come on. I think I can see the spot from here.” Nova shoots off down the road like a kid set loose in Disneyland.
Phantom touches make my skin tingle as memories of our night together flood me. And I don’t mean the episode on the television. Nor is it the sun heating my skin, burning away any remnants of anger over last night, and making me anxious for more than touching and licking.
“I guess he’s cashing in those hours we saved going around Baden-Powell,” Grinder says with a sigh, watching him go. “You need help finding your next rock, Belle?”
I haul my train of thought out of the gutter and turn my attention toward Bats and Grinder. They stand there like two sentinels, tasked with keeping me from running away again. But they don’t need to. Not anymore. We’ve chosen each other now. Chosen to take this trip together. I’m as committed to being here with these three guys as I was to taking this trip. Maybe I could do it without them, but I don’t want to try. “Go ahead,” I tell Grinder. “But I’m going to grab some photos with Nova first. It’s almost his birthday, after all.”
We follow Nova down the dirt road toward the towering rocks. As we draw closer, I recognize some of the formations. Dozens of movies and television shows have been filmed here. Scientifically, they’re an iconic example of seismic uplift, due to their proximity to a number of shoots off of the San Andreas Fault. My phone is out before I’m ten paces down the road, and the guys have to remind me to keep going a number of times before we reach the parking lot well behind Nova.
It takes Nova a few more minutes to find the spot where the scene from the other night was filmed. He drags us over for pictures, listing all the times Captain Kirk and the other Star Trek versions visited this location. We take a few dozen pictures of the landscape and of me with one or all of the guys, thanks to the help of fellow hikers stopping by the site. Before we leave, I get a few shots of the guys. Something for them to send home to their families. I marvel at how happy they all seem. Nova’s always exuberant, but the smile on Bats’ face is clear to anyone, and even Grinder looks happy to be out here for once. Something has brought those smiles out of the two of them, and if the fluttering in my gut is any indication, I think that something is me.
We stop at the visitor center, learning about the natural history stretching back thirty million years, to the cultural history of the Tataviam people who used to live here, and the Mexican bandido Tiburcio Vasquez for whom the area is named. Before leaving, I stop in the gift shop and buy Nova a hat, which he wears with a goofy smile right out the door, tag and all.
The small town of Agua Dulce is only a few minutes’ walk north of the park entrance. We spot a bar and grill with patio tables and a big sign welcoming hikers out front. “Can we eat out here?” I ask, noticing the patio seating. “It’s too nice a day to be inside.”
“Of course,” Bats answers, helping me out of my pack.
I tuck my phone into my pants while they drop their packs. “I need to pee. Order me a coke?” They each nod, then watch me head inside.
After using the facilities, I drop into an empty booth in the back of the restaurant and pull up Rachel’s number. Figuring she’s at lunch, I place a video call to her. Two rings later, Rachel’s face appears on my screen.
“There you are,” Rachel exclaims. “Now what the hell is going on? Do I need to come kick someone’s ass?”
I take a moment to bask in Rachel’s friendship, shaking my head as a smile creeps across my face. “No. You can stand down. Grinder explained everything to me. It was a big misunderstanding.”
“A pretty big one if it had you thinking of coming home. You sure you’re okay, girl?”
I let out a deep but content sigh. “I am.”
“Good. I’m with a few people who are dying to say ‘hi.’” Rachel turns the phone toward a half dozen of our friends, who are waving at me and yelling their encouragement. By the time I hang up ten minutes later, there’s a smile on my face that isn’t leaving anytime soon.
When I get back outside, Nova pulls a chair out next to him. As I lower myself into it, I ask, “So, what’s for lunch?”
As if on cue, a server appears with a tray carrying four plates of cheeseburgers and fries. Delicious. “We ordered for you,” Bats says with a slight shrug. “Hope that’s okay.”
I scrunch up my nose. “I was kind of hoping for a salad.” The guys freeze and stare at me in disbelief. “Kidding.” I say with a chuckle. “This is perfect.”
A comfortable silence takes over as we dig into burgers and fries.
We hike another ten miles past Agua Dulce, finding a bare patch where we lay down Bats’ ground cloth. I collapse as soon as the tarp is down, physically drained, but better emotionally than I have been in days. Maybe weeks. Perhaps even since Valentine’s Day.
That night, I fall asleep held tight in Nova’s arms, but surrounded by all three of the guys. In my head, it should be weird, lying here with each of them. But it’s not.
Lying in Nova’s arms, I’m cherished.
Lying next to Bats, I’m safe.
But with Grinder right there with us, all four of us together, it feels right. Better than a cheeseburger. With extra fries. Stolen from Grinder’s plate, of course.
It might even be perfect.