The Trail

Pots and pans are the alarm clock: breakfast is soon. Rustling comes from within the tent as those who are inside prepare to start the day. A blanket of fog covers the lake that will be their highway in the upcoming hour. The cold, soaked clothes on the line wait in anticipation to torture the bare skin of those who are going to have to put them on.

The two people in the boat paddle in perfect synchronization. This repetitive mantra of physical labor, the mesmerizing swirls of water behind each stroke of the paddle, it puts them into a trance of the deepest thought. Their faces tell the stories of that which they ponder: their mistakes, their tragedies, their best of times, their future, those who they love. Paddling across a lake seems like an eternity to us, it isn’t long enough for them.

Bread, cheese, sausage: a simple lunch at the coast of the lake. White pines with thick weathered bark give them a luxurious backrest to relax on for a short while. Jokes, stories, laughs, they blend with the noise of the afternoon wind, the swoosh of the tree’s leaves brushing against each other, the crash of gentle waves against brittle stone. The food is all gone before they know it, a bitter tease to a full meal. Their smiles stay true.

A path that leads from one lake to the next; narrow and unbeaten, difficult and treacherous, beautiful and terrible. They start the path, cocky and confident. Soon they are humbled by the task they face. The weight of the load they carry tears their shoulders away without mercy. They trot with a wince hoping for this hell to end. When it seems as if this simple trail has gotten the better of them, the familiar glint of light on water catches their eye. Their focus snaps to edge of the water and new strength is found when before there was none. Dropping the load, a euphoric high of freedom is achieved.

For the first time in over half a day: warm clothes. Dry clothes. A full stomach for the first time since the night before. The sunset left a stain of gentle purple and vibrant orange blended like sorbet in the heavens, the paycheck of their work. They join around the fire one last time and watch the sparks join the stars. Five humbled men. A family.