Page 56 of Big & Lily

“Each yurt sleeps two,” Brick says. “Jace and I are going to pitch our tents near the trailhead. Oh, and there’s an outhouse just there.” He points to a tiny wooden building with a quarter moon cut out of the door, standing within view of all the huts. My heart drops.

“Where is the glam?” I whisper to my sister. I was hoping for a little luxury to finish off this trip. A few days of a soft mattress and a hot shower and so many clothes from my previously wayward suitcase to choose from.

“I don’t care,” says Lily. “I’m done. I need to sleep. For a week.”

“Oh, and by the way,” adds Brick. “Don’t bring anything with a scent into the yurt. Toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo, any food. Take a bear canister—one of those containers right there—and we’ll hang them from a tree until morning. Nothing to worry about, it’s protocol out here. Just a precaution.”

Lily and I glance at each other, but we are both too weary to make a comment about the chance of another wildlife encounter. Everyone appears to have had enough of today—breakdowns, meltdowns, and all. Brick has promised us a long hike to the perfect spot to view the summit of Denali tomorrow, so we all say our good nights, and my sister and I enter the yurt, hoping for a pleasant surprise inside.

Glamping must mean something completely different in Alaska. Inside the canvas walls, thin enough to let the late evening twilight in, are two twin-size cots. On an old steamer trunk laid with a woven runner are an electric lantern, two bottles of water, and two hand towels. More Econo Lodge than Abercrombie & Kent.

“Well, we can’t say this hasn’t been a full wilderness experience,” I say.

Frank has delivered our suitcases, and we start digging through them to find anything a bear would consider a snack. Between the lotions—moisturizer, eye cream, night serum—Lily’s special face soap from Kiehl’s hairspray, styling gel, and lipstick that smells like roses, I need to ask for another canister.

We hold hands to walk to the outhouse, and I guard the door for my sister, before taking my turn. When I step out, flapping my hand in front of my nose, Lily is gone. I find her under the covers in her clothes. “I couldn’t stay... it was... gross... I’d rather go in the woods.” She makes fake gagging sounds. I ignore her and wrangle with my hiking boots—finally the ones I brought from home and not someone’s hand-me-downs—kick them under my cot, and lie down on the canvas bed. At least it’s not the ground.

Lily rolls over, and I fight with the thin pillow as I pull my leg in and out of the covers. “You should introduce a new line at the store,” I groan. “Camping pillows and comforters with some feathers and cushioning. You could call it the Sleep Under the Starsseries.”

“You always have the best ideas,” she says with a yawn.

I close my eyes and try not to play the day over in my head on a loop. It will have me tossing and turning all night. Staring up at the circular canvas ceiling of the yurt, I hear something outside. A low, mournful howl outside our flimsy walls.

“What was that?”

“Sounds like a fox,” Lily answers without rolling back over.

“How do you know what a fox sounds like?”

“The Fox and the Hound. That Disney movie. I watched the DVD a million times with Cam and Annie.” The animal lets out another series of plaintive cries. “Yup, definitely a fox.”

Merlin is here!

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Why aren’t we climbing Denali? Why are we hiking so far away from it?” Dane is asking the questions, but Xavier’s eyebrows are raised with interest.

“That’s like asking me why we aren’t climbing Everest,” Brick says as he hands out the gear for this morning’s trip—including cans of bear spray for us to hook into our belt loops. Again with the bears. I’m starting to wonder if they are not telling us something here. “We’re going to leave Denali to the hard-core mountaineers. There’s a whole graveyard in Talkeetna for those poor souls who didn’t make it. Besides, like a lot of things, to really admire Denali’s beauty you need to step back. The views across the valley are postcard perfect. As long as the weather holds.”

We all turn our heads up to the cloudy skies as Brick assures us, as he has before, “Everything in Alaska changes.”

Jace hands out hiking poles and fresh Leave No Trace packets. “Bring your bug spray, yeah. Wear your netting, make sure you tuck your pants into your socks, no leggings, Lily. Wear jeans if you need to—the rusty tussock—that’s a caterpillar—are out, and they are nasty buggers, you’ll end up with hives if they touch your skin. Oh, and be prepared for some muck, your boots are going to get trashed.”

“Sounds like the Ninth Circle of Hell,” groans Dane. “I think I’d rather die trying to climb Denali.”

“Nah, it’s worth it,” says Brick. “It’s only the first section, through the forest, that’s a bit muddy and buggy and overgrown in parts. Once we break through the tree line and hit the ridge, you’re going to thank me.”

“You’re quite the salesman.” Ian laughs.

Lily goes to change out of her Lululemons as I mutter my new mantra under my breath—“thank you, Alaska, thank you, Alaska”—dig into my backpack for my mosquito netting, and hook the canister of bear spray to my belt loop.

We leave camp and set off for our perfect view of Denali. For the first time on this trip, my sister is by my side. Neither of us slept well on the cots, and she is still complaining about being sore and tired. “I’m so sore even my boobs hurt,” she complained this morning.

Today, we are both in my usual position, the back of the pack. Jace, who has learned not to let me fall too far behind, walks with us. Lily and Jace chat as I keep a lookout for my fox. He’s here somewhere, but I’m worried that he won’t show up if I have company. While I wait, I consider the lessons the fox is trying to teach me, according to Luna. Everything is not about the next thing. The next task. The next to-do. Be in the moment. Understand you are supposed to be in the place you are in now. It has taken my sister and me all week to arrive at this spot; we are, quite literally, finally walking together. I hook my arm in hers, but I throw her off balance and she trips on a tree root.

“Hey, watch it!” she scolds.

I laugh and give her a hug, and if our mother were here Lily would yell, “Mom, make her stop!” Put another way, things are perfect right now.