Page 28 of Hearts Overboard

Post-Cruise Tour: Denali National Park

The sign was a huge indicator that this had been a terrible idea.

Tanner and I were decked out in hiking gear and rain jackets, with newly purchased bells attached to our backpacks. I was suspicious of the bell. How did we know that the bears didn’t view it as a dinner bell, its ring telling them exactly when and where to come feast?

We also had snacks, water, and bear spray—which we knew not to use on ourselves. The bells and spray had hinted that we might encounter something large and unfriendly.

But the sign sealed it.

The title read Wildlife Safety , followed by detailed instructions about what to do if you encountered a moose, wolves, or a bear while on the trail. On foot. Without a bus surrounding you and lots of other people for the bear to eat first.

The first piece of advice for all three animals was Stay Away . That was, in fact, very sound advice. And it was not too late for us to heed the warning.

“You know the best way to stay away?” I pointed to the wise sign. “Stay inside. Don’t go marching off into their territory.”

Honestly, it was asking for trouble. Why tempt nature?

Tanner laughed. “We’ll be fine. It says to run away from a moose. You’re a great runner.”

“I am…”

“And wolves.”

The sign told us to scold a wolf like a dog, yell, and throw rocks at it, and showed a park ranger with a dialogue bubble saying, “Bad wolf,” which reminded me of Doctor Who but did nothing to convince me that throwing rocks at a wild animal was in any way a good idea.

“I have no trouble making noise,” Tanner said. “And I have great aim.”

“You claim the moose and the wolf are covered, but you left out the biggest one.”

“They said moose are more dangerous.”

“Really not helping.”

The bear had the most instructions. First, it told us to be noisy.

“I’m good at noisy,” Tanner said. “I’ll sing karaoke as we hike. Ha. Bear-aoke.”

“You sound like your dad. And that would definitely scare me off.”

“That’s what the bells are for.” He wiggled his shoulders to make the bell on his backpack chime. “Then, ‘make yourself look big,’?” he read. “I got that covered.”

“I don’t think it means your head.”

He placed a hand over my mouth to keep me from talking. “Then the bear spray. You can carry it the whole time, if you want.”

Oh, I planned to.

I studied him, that new knowledge of my feelings burning inside me. Tanner was excited for this. Surely I could manage my panic for a few hours. We were already here….

“Oh fine. Let’s do it.”

“It will be great, S’more.”

He squeezed my hand as we started off—away from the visitors center and civilization and safety.

The trail led through a quiet forest. Soft dirt silenced our steps, and the damp air and trees swallowed the insignificant ringing of the bells. Soon, we came alongside a wide, rushing river. The sound was roaring and powerful and wild. Downstream, an impressive railroad bridge spanned the river, and we crossed a wooden suspension bridge for pedestrians.

It was early enough that portions of the trail and river were completely in the shadows, making the temperature cool, but sometimes we rounded a corner and sun made a hillside glow with green light. Towering mountains stretched into the distance.

We didn’t encounter anyone, either because of our early start or because everyone else was wise enough to avoid the bears.

I couldn’t deny it was gorgeous. As long as I didn’t think about how alone we were, how there was no cell service, how we didn’t have a map, how this park’s ratio of animals to humans did not favor humanity. How if we got hurt or had problems we were on our own.

“Doing okay, S’more?”

“It’s weird, right? How few people there are?”

“It is pretty quiet. I can sing anytime. Name the song.”

“I don’t know if my ears can take it.”

To make noise, we chatted about movies and sports and when we might run a 10K. Tanner asked me to tell him about the bridges, which I knew was a distraction, but it was an interesting one. And it was sweet that he knew exactly what to ask.

After I’d given him an engineering lesson he probably hadn’t wanted, I contemplated what he would get most excited to talk about.

“What have been your favorite parts of the trip?” I asked.

He enthusiastically relived the Ping-Pong tournament and our magic show fame and the shore excursions, then told me about Dottie trying to sneak him into the casino after trivia, while I’d been getting a haircut, and soon I was laughing.

Being with him felt so easy and light, and I could barely remember the time before the trip when I’d wanted to avoid him, or my past reasons for disliking him.

The trail led uphill. My thighs burned comfortably. The air was chilly, and I kept my hands in my pockets and my hat pulled over my ears. We climbed above the first row of trees. The river was now far below, a dark blue ribbon. The landscape went on forever—trees and mountains, turning blue as they stretched into the distance, many topped with snow.

We stopped to admire the view in silence, standing side by side, our shoulders touching.

A slow, not unpleasant ache unrolled in my chest.

“What are you thinking?” I asked before I could stop myself.

He turned toward me, inches away. “That I’m glad I’m here, and I’m glad it’s with you, S’more.” His voice was low, serious.

I shifted closer. “Me too.”

“I’ve had a great time this trip,” he said. “I hope you did too, and that it wasn’t too scary.”

“I did enjoy almost all of it.”

“I know, playing with those cute puppies was challenging.”

My lips quirked at the memory of him covered in wriggling balls of fur. “It really was.”

He brushed hair off my temple and tucked it under my hat. His fingers trailed down my jaw. His cheeks were pink, and his eyes were bright. He captured my hands, which were cold, and brought them to his mouth so he could warm them with his breath. It sent heat straight from my hands to my chest, uncurling like steam above hot chocolate.

One moment we were looking at each other, and the next we were kissing. I didn’t know who moved first. My lips were cold, but his quickly warmed them. His hand rested on my neck, and I gripped the front of his jacket.

The rush of wind and the expanse of wilderness had moved inside me, glowing with sunlight.

When we pulled apart, we didn’t talk. He tucked me against him, my arms circled his waist, and we gazed out at forever.

The trail continued along the ridge, displaying the views. We walked single file, and I kept glancing at the back of Tanner’s head. I didn’t know what that kiss had meant. Did he share my feelings? Or had the magical effects of Denali momentarily overwhelmed us?

We turned to head back the way we’d come. Downhill gave my quads a break.

“Not too fast,” Tanner said. “It doesn’t look muddy, but I don’t want you falling ag—”

I gave him a light shove and he laughed.

The trees were thick on all sides, with light playing in the layers of leaves. Rustling came from the bushes ahead.

A dark shape moved among the trunks.

My heart clawed its way into my throat as the details came into focus.

Grizzly bear.