Ode to Justine – The Journey

The days after arriving at Sonora Pass should have been my darkest days on the trail. Vivi was gone, the resulting breakup of the tram I had spent the last month with and nothing hopeful on the horizon. Everyone says NorCal is nothing more than burnt patches, landslides, and mosquitoes: either drive big miles or skip it altogether.

But that’s not how the trail works. You can’t give up on a bad day, so it hits you and hits you and just when you think you can’t take another step, it gives you another chance to stay.

That opportunity, for me, was Justine.

«You should hike with Justine,» a brother hiker told me, «She’s so much fun.»

Yes, yes, I thought, the “best” version of myself, All the boys just love her.

We met a long time ago, in the early days of the desert. I was the weird one, the naked slut at Deep Creek Hot Springs, while she and her girls sat elegantly in sports bras and underwear. She was pretty and confident, and switched fluently between English and French. Come on, give me a break.

I felt intimidated. Or jealous. Probably both.

We met months later, by the lake in the Sierras, and then again around a campfire that night. She seemed different, maybe because she was alone. Or maybe I was different, less insecure with a group of close friends by my side.

Once we started talking, it was an instant connection. We started with softball questions, discussing the best shows to watch just once, and the next thing I knew, we were digging in, chatting about our best friends and our worst breakups. I asked her how she managed to avoid turning pink, and we joked that there was something about the water that made all of us girls on the trail start looking for husbands in earnest.

At Kennedy Meadows North, he decided to join me on a quest to Pinecrest, where we paddleboarded and sang campfire songs at Cookies Cabin. After three days of walking together, we already had the talent of reading each other’s minds with a single look.

It took her even longer than me to get out of town, which meant I could take my time for a change. Miraculously, we had very similar walking habits. She also liked to sleep late and then walk until dark. She was faster than me going up, but I was able to catch up with her once we hit the flats and downhills. Every time we met, she would say, «Oh, hello!» like it would be the nicest surprise to see me, even if I’d only been gone for a few minutes. He took breaks no matter the circumstances, plopping down anywhere if that was what his body demanded.

When we walked together, it was all girl talk. Boys, sisters, the annoying shit we had endured along the way. Our mothers, our friends, our future. She recommended Lily Allen’s latest album, a juicy dive into a horrible breakup, and we sang lines to each other when they came to mind. Everyone assumed we had been walking together for years, but we became fast friends.

My favorite thing to do with Justine was pick out even the smallest interactions we’d had on the trails with a fine-tooth comb. We would evaluate and reevaluate every little detail. Sometimes the memories were so rich that we returned to them again and again, in case there was something new to discover.

It is tough and beautiful, with endless stories to tell. He quickly points out a strange sight or identifies a new wildflower. He would collect snow and eat it like a snow cone or twist pieces of sage between his fingers to release the sweet aroma. He loves to laugh; After a week our conversations were full of inside jokes.

In South Lake Tahoe, we watched a romantic comedy on Crazy UkuLady’s couch, showing each other silly little videos and gossiping about celebrities: Is Jennifer Aniston really that pretty or does she just have amazing curls? Together we could be stupid and smart, serious and silly. We support each other, without letting even the slightest slip pass. Don’t pay attention to him, baby. We are fucking amazing.

She’s ahead now. But she gave me hope.

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