Page 87 of The Illicit Play
“Yeah, it’s one of my favorite spots.”
“I can see why.” She glances at me, her blue eyes bright with a smile that I can’t turn away from.
So I just stand there as she unbuckles her pack. It thuds to the dirt because her arms are obviously too tired to catch it in time.
“Whoops. Sorry.” She winces.
“No worries.” I walk over to the pack, picking it up and stowing it next to mine. “Let’s have some lunch, and then we can get to work setting up camp.”
“Sure.” Pulling the now thoroughly squished sandwiches out of her pack, I pass them to her, and we munch down the food I prepared when I first got up this morning.
For multiday hikes like this, you have to be organized, so I’ve mapped out our meals and snacks to ensure we have enough food to last us. I’ll do some fishing this afternoon, and we can cook that over a campfire tonight, plus I have some overnight oats already soaking for tomorrow morning. I’ll have to make sure I secure our packs properly and rig them up so we don’t get bears sniffing out the food and visiting us in the night.
Figure I should probably go through safety procedures and warn Blake about all the potential threats and dangers we face on a trail like this, but I’ll let her finish eating first.
One thing at a time, right?
“Ugh, I’m so sweaty.” She pulls at the shirt sticking to her back.
“Yeah, you better get used to it. We’ve got plenty more to go.”
She snickers, munching down another bite of her chicken salad sandwich like it’s the best food she’s ever had.
That’s another thing I love about hiking. You appreciate the little things.
When your body’s hurting and you’ve got sweat running into your eyeballs, there’s nothing sweeter than a mouthful of plain old water.
When you’ve got nicks and bruises on your skin and your legs and back are screaming at you to stop already, there’s nothing more delicious than a homemade chicken salad sandwich. You feel like freaking royalty biting into that thing because you’ve worked so hard to get it.
Damn, I really do love this shit.
Every time I come out here, I’m reminded of what brings me to life.
Don’t get me wrong. I love being in class, filling my brain with stuff. And being out on a football field, making plays and scoring touchdowns with my team, that is golden.
But this right here… this is what I was put on the earth for.
I’m sure of it.
Which is why a part of me has been toying with the idea of switching from computer engineering to conservation engineering. Jobs in that field probably won’t pay as well, but making nature a full-time part of my lifecould be so amazing. I have to do whatever I can to preserve places like this.
“What are you thinking about?” Blake places her sandwich crusts back into the wrapper.
“You don’t eat your crusts?” I give her a pained frown.
“Never.”
I tut and hold out my hand. “Give ’em to me. We’re not wasting food.”
She laughs and hands them over. “Sure, Mom.”
“Can’t believe you weren’t made to eat your crusts as a kid. Come on, Wilson.”
“What?” She laughs. “The crusts are…” She wrinkles her nose.
“They’re what?” I munch through them, proving how delicious that are.
“There’s nothing on them. It’s just plain bread.” Poking out her tongue, she shows me a taste of the prissy little princess she was no doubt raised to be.
