Lost & Found At Sunfish Pond

Suzanne C. Martinez

Lost & Found at Sunfish Pond

Annie could feel herself suffocating. When her husband, Claude suggested they go hiking to Sunfish Pond in the Worthington Forest on the weekend she immediately agreed. Like John Muir, she yearned to go into the forest to lose her mind and find her soul. Annie hoped they might recapture their lost harmony while swimming together in a crystal-clear glacial pond beneath sun dappled foliage.

When she returned from work the following night the apartment was littered with bags and boxes.

“What’s this?” Annie asked.

“Camping’s more fun than hiking. I bought us hiking boots, pup tent, backpacks, sleeping bags, a camp stove, freeze-dried meals, and a canteen.”

“How’d you pay for this?” She knew how little cash was in their account.

“I charged it.” He grinned like the kid he was, fondling his purchases.

My sneakers are fine for hiking; my parents have plenty of camping equipment we could’ve borrowed, she thought but didn’t say. Annie’s head throbbed from another display of Claude’s impulsive nature. 

They quarreled often because of Claude’s incessant job hopping. A six-foot tall Army-trained critical care nurse, he was in much demand. He’d praise each new position glowingly, only to quit a few weeks later declaring he was working with idiots. His friends, hobbies, jobs, and beliefs were perfect, until they weren’t. He’d abandon them without regret for the next new thing. Annie swallowed her frustration and kept quiet.

 * * *

Saturday dawned clear and sunny. He lashed the tent and stove to his backpack; Annie carried hers and a full 2-liter canteen. They joined a steady stream of others also hiking.

Initially, the trail was a gradual incline with ample leaf cover and a cooling breeze. After an hour, they stopped for water and granola bars. Annie winced touching her raw ankles and leaned back only to discover, like an upside-down turtle, she couldn’t stand. He yanked her up.

“My backpack’s too heavy, Claude. Can you carry anything else?”

“Each one weighs fifty pounds.”

“But, it’s half my weight and a fifth of yours.”

“You need to carry the same load as me. I’m out of shape, I might have a heart attack,” said Claude.

“At least carry the water.”

Claude grabbed the strap and plowed upward, oblivious of the older couple he rushed past and nearly toppled over.

“I love it here, don’t you?” asked Claude. “We could go hiking every weekend.”

Annie doubted that. If Claude’s history was any indication, this hobby wouldn’t last long.

Three miles farther up the trail, the leaf cover disappeared. In the heat, they quickly emptied their canteen and sweated through their clothes. Annie’s feet throbbed.

“How much farther?” she asked.

Claude checked his pedometer/compass. “It’s five miles to the top. We’ve walked four.”

“I don’t think I can make it,” Annie said. “All my toes have blisters; my ankles are bleeding.”

“Poor Annie. Your boots will be broken-in when this hike is over. I need to pee.”