During the summer, Andy and I took a hike along the Carbon River up to the glacier at Mt. Rainier National Park. Most of the trails within the park were still covered in snow, but luckily this one was (mostly) clear. Like a typical Washington early summer day, it was overcast with occasional showers, no more than 50 degrees out. There was a haze that blanketed the tops of the surrounding hills, so any view we would have of the mountain was obscured. We didn’t really have a plan for the day, just drive up to the ranger station, then take the bikes up to an old, shutdown campground and the trailhead and start hiking. It was here at this abandoned campground that we first saw Rob. We didn’t know Rob at the time, and we had just assumed he was another hiker, but the fact that he was just standing at one of the sites, alone, eating some sort of bar while watching us kind of creeped us out a bit. But as we passed, he cordially said “Hello,” and we said “hey” back. We made brief small talk about the trail and continued on our way. Andy and I agreed he seemed pretty sketch, alone at his campsite set up for only himself, but we pretty quickly forgot about him and kept hiking.
We didn’t get far along the trail when we met Rob again. Near the start of the trail, there was a short, 200-foot path to a waterfall viewing that we took and, once realizing it wasn’t anything spectacular, we walked back to the main trail. Here we passed Rob again, with another brief conversation about the trail, and we kept on our way. Not even a quarter mile back on the main trail, the path forked, so Andy and I pulled out our map to see where we wanted to go. Naturally, Rob found us again. This time however, as we started hiking again, Rob walked with us. He never exactly asked to join us, but we weren’t exactly going to tell him off. We discovered, though, that even though we thought Rob was the very definition of a creepy stranger that parents warn of, he wasn’t at all what we had imagined him to be. Turns out, Rob was a recent graduate from the University of Texas who wanted to get the hell out of Texas for awhile. He purposefully left his girlfriend at home and travelled to a place that had always interested him but had never been able to visit (he wanted to go to Europe, but that was out of his budget, so he figured the PNW was the next closest thing). Rob was on a three week solo journey from Texas to Seattle, Portland, and Vancouver, B.C. (in that order too) with no set goal other than to just explore. The fact that he was alone never bothered him.On our hike with Rob, we talked about college life, about where he should visit while in the area, even about religion briefly. What was supposed to be a buddy hike with just Andy and I turned into a great afternoon with Andy, Rob, and myself. We said goodbye to Rob after the hike once we were back at the campground, wished him luck on the rest of his journey, and for the last time we went on our way again.
When I look back on that day, the details of the hike are not what I remember first. What I remember the most is that creepy stranger who ended up becoming our friend for that day. Rob’s journey is one that, in a way, I envy. I mean, here’s a man who seems to have his life together, but despite all of that he leaves, alone, for an unknown area for three weeks with nothing more than a backpack and a vague goal in mind of where he wants to go. I wonder what kind of people Rob met during those few weeks. I wonder how many one- or two-day friends he traveled with. Friends that apart from those days, he will likely never see again. I hope that one day I can do what Rob did: just drop everything and take the trip I’ve always wanted to take.
I don’t know why I wrote about this tonight, really. But I think it has to do with the fact that I know I’ll never see Rob again. Over the past year, I’ve lost two friends who I will never get to see again in this life. Remembering the last moment I had with them, to think that they would be gone within a matter of a few months time- it’s a feeling of despair that I cannot describe. I wish I could go back, just to say good bye, to give them one final hug. When I said goodbye to Rob, I was fully aware that our paths would never cross again. It was a strange farewell for the three of us. What do you say to someone who you just enjoyed a whole day with, yet beyond that your relationship with them will be over? As strange as it was though, knowing that our journey with Rob was over carried with it this sense of closure. That’s not the case with my other two friends. There was no closure the last time we met. I didn’t have the privilege of giving them a final goodbye.
I miss my friends immensely. Though they were never my closest friends, their passing leaves a hole that will never be filled. I know they are both with God now, and there is so much comfort in that. Even though I know that my journey with them will continue in heaven, that doesn’t change the fact that I still miss them here. I think of the last time I saw Nadyne, at my brother’s wedding in July. When I think of a perfect day, I think of that. She was the shortest on the dance floor (at least of those over 10 years old), yet danced and celebrated like it was nobody’s business. She was so full of life. I said goodbye to her the next morning before she drove back to Bass Lake. I gave her a hug, told her to drive safe and that I couldn’t wait to come up and visit her this fall.
And just like that, I was on my way again.
Pieces like this make me a really proud older brother.
