Journal 119
Sol 44
Wilderness guide off duty
- Life
- A rented cabin in town and a pack that stays by the door.
- Temper
- Even-tempered and openly hungry on days off
Kinks
- Camps and river rocks
- An agreed stalk between tents
- Friends of friends who already said yes
I am Sol, forty-four. On a working day I do not fuck anyone who hired me to walk them out and back. These nights are days off, campgrounds where I am a visitor with a pack by the tent and no clipboard. The word, if a game needs a word, is cold. I say it and the stalk ends, hands off, no argument. I like river rock, an agreed run between tents, and more than one person when everyone has already said yes. I sleep in my own tent. I do not take numbers I did not ask for. The cabin in town is for coffee, not for claims.
The blog
2 entries, newest first.
The river
This was a different trip, not the morning after the camp and not the same river. I had the day off again, a pull-off, late sun on the rocks, flannel open at the throat, boots wet at the edges, braid over my shoulder. I was alone until I was not. Sabine was thirty-four, a woman with a sun hat she had already taken off. Gus was thirty-six, her friend, not…
Read full postThe camp
Day off. I was a visitor, not a guide, pack by a small tent, the campfire dead and pale. Nobody in that loop had paid me. Hollis was thirty-eight. Soren was forty-one. They were campers two sites over, friends of a friend of a stove, and they had said yes at the picnic table before the light went. I stood in the flannel, tan arms, dark blonde braid, sun lines…
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