“I feel like I’m wearing this humidity,” Mike said, pulling his tank top away from his midsection.

The three friends, Mike, Josh, and David hadn’t been out in the woods for more than fifteen minutes before sweat started to soak into Mike’s shirt. He expected to be sweaty because he was always sweaty, but his yellow running tank top was making it worse. The soft fabric didn’t hide the moisture well and the Michigan summer made everything worse. It had yet to develop the picturesque, salted ridge line that separated the wet from the dry because the sweat was spreading like liquid soaking a paper towel.

“You’re just out of shape,” David said.

Josh thought so too, but he was still feeling out the dynamic. This was his first time hiking with Mike and David.

“Round is a shape,” Mike reminded him.

Josh didn’t comment, but David laughed. Mike hoped that David got the reference: a raunchy and misogynistic comedy blog post in the early days of the internet called “101 Rules and Instructions on Being a Man.” Mike’s mind wandered back to his early teen years in David’s basement reading that list while waiting for a girl David had a crush on to reply to their ICQ message.

Mike and David wanted friends to join them for a while. Mike, David, Josh, and a fourth, Matt, had made plans to bike a rail trail together, but they could never land on a proper weekend. Hiking, though, was something that Mike and David did as often as they could. When they started hiking, about a decade earlier, they went out monthly for day hikes and at least two overnights a year, but that had diminished over the past four years. Each year they’d talk a big game about hiking for longer or on new trails, but it just became harder to plan new trips because they each had kids. Recently, it was mostly the only time that Mike and David had the chance to see each other.

“Was this where we saw the bear?” Mike asked stepping over a log. Alternating his gaze from somewhere in front of him to directly beneath his feet.

“Nah, that was up around 6b,” David said sounding confident.

Mike couldn’t visualize what 6b looked like nor did he care to try. That wasn’t how his memory worked. Plus, he wasn’t sure they’d been up here at this point in the summer before. Nothing looked the same. All the life pushing into the trail. Green and weedy. The silence it created felt awkward and heavy.

“A bear?” Josh asked.

“Yeah, it was a cub. Scared the shit out of us,” David said.

Mike tried to recall whether David had actually seemed scared or if he was just being collegial.

“So a momma bear wasn’t far off then?” Josh asked.

“Couldn’t have been far,” Mike said as the conversation went quiet again. Something about the reality of the mother bear always being near the bear cub made him furrow his eyebrows. He wondered what his wife and kids were doing right now.

They planned to hike up the well-worn path near Lake Michigan to snap a few photos of the Manistee River on their phones, have some guy time, make camp for the night, and then rent some kayaks from the boatman at the top to come back down the next day. There was a hydroelectric dam and a livery where twenty-somethings rented tubes to drink beer and float down river in the summer sun. On previous hikes, Mike and David noticed that many of the big groups of loud and nearly naked bodies frequently had extra tubes for the cooler. They wondered if that cost more. They talked Josh through their previous hikes, favorite campsites, mishaps, and strange experiences like the human excrement they’d found in the middle of the trail. They each noted that the trail rarely looked the same from trip to trip. Mike wondered if it was his memory or if the trail was just subtly changing and growing over the paths of their past.

Although David and Josh were both part of the same circle in high school, they seem to represent different parts of Mike’s adult life. As Mike aged, he compartmentalized his friends more and more. The people he grew up with, the people he hung out with in high school, his college and grad school friends, his co-workers. He felt weird when he mentioned one group to another. He felt that the group he was with would question the validity of the other group. One time he invited a guy from the college paper to a dodgeball game with his high school friends and it had gone very poorly. David still held the inclusion of Cheater Bob against Mike’s judgment from time to time.

“How far do you guys normally walk before taking a break,” Josh asked. He wasn’t breathy, but Mike wondered if he was getting tired.

“I don’t really know,” Mike said.

“Yeah, whenever really. There are a few good places to stop for water or a cup of coffee just coming up. Overlooks or a few streams. They’re also close to campsite… four?” David looked back at Mike who was fiddling with his bite piece on his water bladder.

“What? Oh, maybe?” Mike clipped the bite piece back to his chest strap and stopped as the trail curved with the river below. “It’s crazy to think that we’ll be down there tomorrow. I feel like we’ve been talking about kayaking this river for years, but just didn’t know how.”

They hated the idea of floating but loved the idea of paddling. Freely embracing the river’s chance versus the ability to influence one’s path. The effort versus reward of a current-aided workout seemed like an exciting change to the normal pattern of out-and-back hikes on the same trail.

After he changed into the shirt he’d packed for tomorrow, Mike was a little more comfortable because he didn’t look so wet and out of shape to the other hikers. He couldn’t have imagined how wet he’d be in fewer than twelve hours though.

All three of them grew up on Lake Erie, but even in their childhoods, they couldn’t just jump into the River Raisin and just float for a while. They spent Josh’s bachelor party canoeing down the river only to portage through the dry spots and work through the weeds on multiple occasions. In Mike’s memory, the canoe he borrowed from his future father-in-law was problematic, and he struggled to move the water beneath him at a pace that suited the rest of the party. No matter how hard he paddled he constantly got grief for falling behind.

They hiked for another five hours before deciding to find a place to make camp. They had pushed forward in search of one of the designated campsites that had access to water and lots of open space in hopes of making an easy morning hike to the livery, but the best sites were already occupied by families that had clearly been there for a few hours. Walking by 4c, Mike met eyes with a boy no older than 12. He was propping himself up with a stick in his hand like a cane. Is he calling me old? Mike thought. Nah, kids being kids.

After hiking for seven hours, the three of them didn’t want to climb down to a hypothetical spot that they couldn’t see, but they knew that if a spot existed down there, it would offer them tree cover, access to water, and privacy. Shortly after setting up tents, hammocks, and putting the water to boil, they noticed a group of people on the other side of the river with some tubes. They had clearly been there for a while just bathing in the fading sun’s light and the briskly moving water. Their voices carried without hesitation because they anticipated being alone. As the guys set up camp, Mike went over and acknowledged them. Letting them know that they were claiming the spot. However, they did not leave, they stayed on the opposite bank smoking pot and drinking. Mike thought it strange that they were clearly goth kids this far out in nature. He didn’t mention anything to David or Josh about it because the label seemed irrelevant to conversation, and he would hate to know that his kids were labeled in a juvenile way like that.

When the goth kids had deflated their inner tubes and stored them in the backs of SUVs, they drove off. Nothing left behind and no one to stare down the barrel of the river. Mike, David, and Josh relished the silence for a short time before two pre-teen boys rode their quads down the bank and into the river. They were there for a few hours just riding up and down the bank, getting stuck and powering free. Josh openly talked about how he hoped that they’d stay stuck. Mike’s inner teacher wanted them to have a natural consequence, but each time they’d venture too far out into the current, one would help the other out and they’d speed off into some other fuckery and he’d be secretly impressed.

“Fuck those kids,” Josh said shaking his head away from the smell of their exhaust. “I hate that they come out here with that shit.”

“It’s so loud,” David replied.

“Yeah,” Mike said. He didn’t share that he thought it was pretty cool. He didn’t share that he always liked riding quads, or that riding on the back of his 5th-grade friend, Jeff’s quad was quite possibly the coolest thing he’d done during his youth. Mike watched enviously as the kids fucked around but never found out.

They all knew rain was forecasted, hell, even thunderstorms, but no one had really discussed the possibility of rain-soaked packs, but when Mike woke atM to pee, he saw lightning outline the bluffs from their campsite in the valley even though he never saw the bolt. Among the tall grass, he saw strange patches of lightning bugs and heard the life of the woods. He convinced himself that the animals would be acting differently if a storm was imminent. When he crawled back into the tent, he assumed Josh was sleeping, but he should’ve realized that Josh, like himself, never really slept when hiking.

Mike had borrowed his wife’s mattress pad and just brought his sleeping bag liner. He worried that he would’ve been overly cold, even though it wasn’t supposed to drop below 67 degrees. He was grateful to have her mattress pad though. He loved hiking here in the day because he was moving and busy, but at night, he missed his wife, Marcie, so much. It made it so much more difficult because he never had consistent cell service. He might get a few emails or texts in one clearing, but rarely if ever did he get signal in the valleys by the river where he and David liked to camp. Singing bedtime songs and those last hugs before bedtime were, he realized, just as important to him as they were to his kids.

Mike was glad that he zipped the vestibule shut after peeing even though it was incredibly stuffy in the tent, and the ever-present threat of Josh farting lingered when the thunder echoed into the valley and rain drowned out any hopes of rest. Somewhere in the deluge, rain started to pool between the tub of the tent and the footprint on the ground. In the morning, Josh joked that somehow Mike had found the lowest point in the campsite even though it was David’s suggestion. That stuff always bothered him about their friendship. In the tent though, he pressed the water forward toward his feet like he did with a tube of toothpaste.

“Dave, you up!?” Mike yelled as the rain hitting his tent made more white noise than he was comfortable with.

“Yeah”

“Are you dry?”

“As far as I know” David replied.

“Good,” Mike said before adding, “Did you move your pack further under your hammock before going to sleep?”

“Yeah, hopefully, it was enough”

“Yeah,” Mike replied before trailing off again. He wished he could continue the conversation, but what were they going to talk about, the weather? He quietly chuckled and rolled away from Josh. He assumed Josh was awake because he wasn’t quiet when he yelled to David, but he didn’t know what to say. The air in the tent was hot and humid and their packs were probably getting wet from the pooling water.

Mike pulled his phone out of the mesh pocket sewn into the door. He clicked the lock button in hopes that he’d have more than one deceptive bar of service, but he didn’t. Sometime in the past few hours, a text from his wife had come in. It was a simple “love you,” but it made Mike hate the trip even more.

When he slept at home, he often had to play a strange what-if game. He’d ask himself questions like “what if I had $100k” or “what if I designed an energy source that could reach lightspeeds?” Those questions didn’t allow his mind to wander enough though. He struggled to connect with Marcie. He wondered if she felt him missing her. He was sure it was not possible, but there was that time when his kayak flipped two miles out on the Grand Traverse Bay and even though he only yelled once, she heard him. In his sleeping bag, he awkwardly rolled over to rest on his back.

As the rain hadn’t let up, Josh pulled the e-reader out of his bag and started reading. Mike considered asking him what he was reading, but he didn’t have the energy or the interest. He grabbed his phone one more time and typed a long message out.

The next time I try to go hiking overnight, remind me of this text. Copy and paste. I want nothing more than to be at home with you and the kids right now.

He sent the message assuming that it wouldn’t go through and that he’d have to resend it in the morning. He put his phone back into the pocket and closed his eyes. He searched his eyelids for the soft light from the e-reader’s screen to distract himself back into a state of slumber.

At some point before dawn, Josh locked the Kindle and tried to find more sleep. Mike had accepted the possibility that his stuff would be wet in the morning and found some peace in the sound of the rain.

The storm stopped shortly before the sun rose. Mike eagerly crawled out of the tent and surveyed the campsite. It was an unofficial site, so he expected a little more weather damage because the DNR clearly didn’t check this site. That said, he and David often wondered whether the DNR came out here at all.

“Well?” Mike asked looking at David as he stood next to his hammock. It was the first time David had used the hammock on a real hike in a long time and the first time ever in a storm.

“Dry, I think. It was rough though. The light breeze blew some of the rain during the storm, but I think that mosquitos were biting my ass through the hammock before the storm started.”

Josh, who had slept for a few hours during the waning sun of the previous day replied, “That’s terrible. I couldn’t sleep for about three hours during the storm. Just wasn’t happening.”

Mike considered reminding him that he slept during the day, but kept his mouth shut. He also carefully considered the words he used to describe the storm. On a recent outing with Josh and his family, he used the word “sucks” to describe an experience but felt small when Josh turned to his kids and said “We don’t use sucks, right? There are other, better words to describe our negative experiences.”

As they broke their campsite down, they chatted about the possibility of rain on the kayaking trip and wondered whether the livery would be open considering the weather. The pool of water under Mike’s tent was cause for laughter. Even though Mike hated being criticized, it felt good to laugh. They each had a cup of coffee. It was already starting to warm up outside, but even the warmth of a cup of instant coffee made from filtered river water brought some sense of composure to their day.

“How far do we have to walk today?” Mike asked as he examined his wet toe-shoes. He had worn them into the river for traction without considering that they’d take an extended amount of time to dry. He hung them up from a tree hoping they’d dry out quicker, but he pulled them into the tent’s vestibule during the night because of the rain. When he discovered that a fat spider had made a home in his right shoe after putting his left shoe on, he panicked and tore the shoe from his foot. Josh and David stared at him until he explained the situation.

“Yeah, they get into everything,” David said as he rolled his rain fly up into a tight ball and shoved it into the compression sack.

The rest of the hike up trail was spent wondering whether they’d have kayaks waiting, whether they’d be able to find the launch, or if they’d have cell service in case the answers to the first two questions were a no. Mike put his last pair of dry socks on even though he knew the wetness of his shoes would eventually seep through. He tried to find ways to complain about this even though he knew full well that it was his own fault but couldn’t, so he kept his mouth shut.

Around an hour in Josh seemed to notice his surroundings while waiting for Mike to put a granola bar wrapper into his pocket, “That looks like a good campsite.”

“Yeah, it’s got great tree cover and I don’t think it would be impossible to get down to the water,” David commented.

Mike looked around, but he realized that his mood was souring because of the state of his feet, so he kept his mouth shut. He considered asking to stop to make a coffee, but he knew that the coffee wouldn’t change his situation and it would just delay the inevitable. He tried to find some pleasure in this situation. He had, after all, wanted to kayak this river for years. Wasn’t that reality enough to quell the discomfort?

They made it to the top without much conversation. The bridge, they thought, signified the end of their journey on foot. They stopped and took a few photos on the bridge. David cajoled Mike into smiling, but he would always remember that this smile was anything but authentic. He wondered how soft and white the skin on his foot was. Wasn’t a threat of trench foot or the inevitable desocking of a wet foot worth worrying about?

Two of the three kayaks were identical, both having dry wells. They discussed how to best fit all the materials of the pack without damaging the bags. It felt like an unfair Tetris match, but the three friends worked in the mist silently. Mike checked his watch and figured out the hours until he’d be home. Seven. Then another two to unpack. An hour at least to dry out his tent. Then maybe he’d sit with his kids for a bit if he had energy before bedtime.

“Are you guys bringing your water in the kayak?” Mike asked before launching the kayaks. David and Josh both responded, but Mike was already caught up in trying to decide how to connect the Bluetooth speaker. He wanted music. He always wanted music. Music was the backbone of most things he did. The Heardle was an important part of his daily routine. Marcie often got frustrated with him for his need to play “guess this song” on long trips. He was so preoccupied with the speaker that he missed their response and neglected to put his water, perhaps the most important thing of his hike, into the kayak.

They set off in the rain, it was sprinkling, and it was less than ideal, but the three friends rationalized that there would be fewer people on the river and thus, this was a good thing. The river’s silence felt tense and tangible. Like yesterday’s humidity. He fiddled with the Bluetooth speaker for a bit, but he couldn’t participate in any conversation between Josh and David, so he decided to shut it down. When he powered it off, David was asking if they’d be able to track some of the campsites that frequently overlooked the river.

“I wonder if we’ll be able to find where we camped last night,” Josh asked thinking back to the people with inner tubes or the kids on their quads. While neither group was particularly disruptive, the first group’s pot and the exhaust of the second group carried over. David and Josh bitched about it, but Mike secretly loved it. Something about it reminded him of his youth. He watched longingly as the group just played around for several hours before walking up the bank, starting their cars, and driving off. David couldn’t fathom that it was truly just a day in the water and sun for them without any long drives afterward.

Mike wanted water, but he missed the part where David and Josh decided to put their water in the kayak with them. He’d stored his cranberries and Bluetooth speaker up front, but it was not a replacement for water. This would become another thing he’d tell his kids not to do when he got home.

Home.

Home had lingered on the cusp of his memory throughout the day. He clearly remembered the desire to hold Marcie last night during the rainstorm. It wasn’t a weakness, he rationalized, it was a distinct level of comfort that he didn’t have. It was another series of moments that he’d never get back with his wife and kids. He paddled on at a pace that felt quick. Like he was trying to race back to the car.

Although he had been hearing it for a while, it was only a brief time before he heard the plastic of the paddle dig into the water. His focus had been on keeping pace with the others, but he stopped to roll his shoulders only to hear how quiet it was without music. He wasn’t put off by the silence, but he didn’t like it. Mike thought about the last time he had hung out with them both together. Something in the experience made him simultaneously regret coming and want to stay here forever. The movement of the water was so freeing. With little effort, Mike could easily have sat there and just lived for a moment. That rarely happened during the work week.

“Do you think the groups that just drink in the tubes ever really slow down and realize just how loud they’re talking?” Mike asked.

“What?” David replied, but Mike just waved him off. Maybe no one ever really spoke loud enough out here except the river.

They all quipped occasionally as if they were really talking. Mike would sometimes eat a handful of cranberries with hands that had not been washed in thirty-six hours as if it was a taunt. He considered cupping a handful of the Manistee and dragging it quickly into his mouth, but he’d watched enough Les Stroud to know that it was a bad choice even if the water had been briskly moving. He thought about their conversations yesterday; recalling them strained. In their own way, each of them felt exhausted even though they weren’t. He realized that his memory was tired. The present was tired.

After a short time, Mike’s attention finally clicked off and he realized that although he loved being in nature and that he loved kayaking, he would trade anything to share this experience in person with Marcie, Adeline, AJ, Anne, and Adam. He spent most of the waking time during the week away from them that willingly leaving them on the weekend just affirmed that he had made the incorrect choice.

When they finally pulled the kayaks to shore, Mike only looked forward to hugging Marcie and just getting back to the normalcy of his routine. Nature would have to wait because they were the joy to set his mind free.