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I became obsessed with this YouTuber, Ricky Kayles. He uploaded a series of videos of himself while exploring the Great Basin National Park in Nevada in March of 2020.

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He uploaded 21 videos in total before he disappeared somewhere close to Wheeler Peak and was never heard from again. His last known location is marked in red on this map:

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Kayles's videos have since been removed from the platform though nobody knows by whom. I believe that there was someone on Reddit who had saved a few of them but, anyway, they're not really important to this story. 

What you need to keep in mind is that, for two months straight in 2020, I did nothing but watch and rewatch Kayles's videos soon after I learned of his disappearance. I tried to look for clues in the videos themselves but even the last video he uploaded on 28 March 2020 gave
little indication of what might have happened to him. 

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Kayles was sprightly. He always wore a flag trucker hat that had Stetson written on it; he routinely took this off in the videos and used it to fan himself. It was March — it gets cold in Nevada in the evenings — but if you're constantly walking in warming spring weather, you're going to sweat. And sweat he did: Kayles was often breathless as he talked about what he saw in the Lehman caves and in the basin. He got romantic a few times when he stood at the trailhead and looked up at the peaks. 

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In his last video, he was exploring a strange rock formation and some narrow cave mouth. Investigators think that this is where he might have inadvertently buried himself. 

These are, to the best of my memory, the last words he uttered in the final video: 

 


not kidding guys... i'm not an archaeologist but this could be the site of a sulphurous hot spring. naturally heated pool... and i read... yeah i read this old leaflet from 1910 that my grandpa had and it said that they used to sell the water they got from here because of its curative properties... *laughs* ... gotta find me some of that.

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He was his usual sprightly and excitable self. He didn't look tired though he was fanning himself with his Stetson hat. Anyone watching that video would not have said that this would be the last time that they saw Ricky Kayles. I certainly didn't. 

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*

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I decided to go to the Great Basin National Park because I had two weeks of vacation leave, I'd never been to the park, and I was curious. I am not in any shape or form trained to trek, I'm in my early thirties and not even that fit; I've never had any physical training. 

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I set foot in Nevada in August 2023. This is my diary from that expedition.​

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Tuesday, 8th August 2023

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Took the scenic route and pulled up on the US-50. Parked my van by a sign that said, "Truck Turn Around Area 1000 Feet". Google said that I was close to a Kerouac's, a bar and restaurant in Baker just 45 minutes away from the park's entrance. I decided to get some lunch there and then go on foot.

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Lunch consisted of: 

a cold pilsner;

hashbrowns;

Andouille sausages;

two poached eggs;

fries.

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Was a good way to spend a morning. There was a fresh breeze coming off the peaks. I took a good lungful of clean air and headed out. I am essentially carrying two bags: the hiking backpack on which is strapped my lightweight tent and containing the sleeping bag and some food (more on this later), and another smaller bag that contains a large and powerful flashlight, my phone, my wallet, and keys. 

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I made it to the trailhead in less than an hour but, by then, I was already sweating bullets. It was very warm though the sky was a sulphurous grey. The sun was definitely up there somewhere. Just hiding. 

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Like I was. 

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Whenever I saw a group of people, mostly hikers, — some friendlier ones ventured a 'good morning'  — I hurried my pace. I've always been somewhat of a loner, quite reserved, never shared much of my personal life. I just didn't want people to know I was there to look for a YouTuber; they'd think I'm arrogant enough to believe I could succeed where professional investigators had failed. I didn't want twenty questions. So I kept my head down, despite the beautiful peaks in the distance, and walked on. 

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I didn't manage this very well because I accidentally slipped into a conversation with a hiker later. I was looking at a sign that featured a trail map by a picnic area. A lone man came up behind me and squinted at the map. 

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'Nice hat,' he remarked. 

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'Thanks,' I said. 

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'You by yourself?'

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I nodded.

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'Same here. Where you headed?'

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'Around Wheeler Peak.' 

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'Gotcha.' He paused. 'You been here before?'

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'No, first time.' 

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'Lone wolf. I like that. If you need any help, I'll be around.' 

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He walked on and I watched him disappear into the brush. There was something about him I liked, apart from the smell of pine. Straight and to-the-point, not too prying, not preachy. Just a friendly person making conversation to avoid an awkward silence at the sign as we both surveyed the map. Looking at the peaks, I thought I should drop the snobbery — you never know, I might need help from people like him if I run into trouble. 

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I took a few pictures of the vista. I also recorded a vlog — it took a few tries because I was uncomfortable initially. I kept looking over my shoulder to check if anyone was walking by. I bit my pinky finger hard to settle my nerves and then fell into a confident air, exhibited the same sprightliness that Ricky Kayles always showed. It gave me a genuine boost. I talked about my lunch, what I'd seen up to that point, the conversation I had and then focused the phone camera on the peaks and said something about my goal at the park. It ended up becoming a seven-minute video and I planned to eventually upload it to YouTube. 

I was doing new things. 

But that was enough for the day. It was late afternoon already and I decided to go back to my van and have an early night. I would park closer to the entrance in the morning and get a head start. 



Wednesday, 9th August 2023

I woke up early. The strange thing was that I woke up to the van's radio blaring out Aretha Franklin's "(You Make me Feel Like) a Natural Woman". I wondered for how long the radio had been on and why it was on in the first place. 

There was no one else around and the sun was just starting to rise. A lone cobalt blue bird was perched on a branch of a leafless tree to my left. It gave me a few cursory glances and then flew off, blinking and veering away like an afterimage in my vision. 

I was feeling positive about what lied ahead. Before I came to Nevada, I had read a lot about the state and learned of a peculiar car forest, an abandoned area of forsaken cars, buses, and vans sprayed in colourful graffiti. I thought about visiting it this morning, doing something completely different, but the pull of finding Ricky Kayles was too much. I turned on my phone and recorded a vlog in the van. I said good morning to whoever
 would be watching in the future — hopefully many thousands — and I said that today would be the day I'd make considerable progress and eventually sleep in a tent under the stars. 

I drove my van to the parking lot outside the park's entrance and headed out on foot before the sun had fully risen. 


I didn't know how best to approach the area where Ricky Kayles was last seen but thought I would follow the trail and see where it would lead me. Before it got too hot, I heard the cascades and came upon the Lehman creek, water like silver coursing swiftly over broken logs and smooth stones. A sign said that I wasn't far from the Lehman campgrounds. That meant people. I took a few pictures and walked alongside the creek. 
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Eventually, I heard the murmur of conversation. I became self-conscious. I thought about observing the campers through the trees but decided that they'd think I was creepy if I was caught. I walked towards the clearing where a number of hikers were folding up their tent. I made sure to snap as many branches as I could with my feet as I approached, so they'd know someone was coming. 

But the noisy entrance drew too much attention and, when I looked up, I saw that two guys and two girls were looking suspiciously in my direction. 

'Good morning,' I tried. 

'Morning,' the guys said. 

They looked like they were in their mid-twenties, college students. I laid down my two bags and felt their concerned eyes on me as I took out a packet of chocolate rice cakes. I bit into one and offered the rest of the packet to the youngsters. 

'Want some?' I asked. I thought talking with my mouth full would make me look informal and therefore more friendly. 

They shook their heads, now more relaxed than previously, and carried on folding up their tent. The conversation they'd been having before I showed up continued. They spoke about a Mona and how concerned they were about her dating some guy from Utah. 

'Utah guys are bad news,' I said, jokingly. 'I should know. I'm from there.'

'Oh, really? Where from?' one of the guys asked. 

'Salt Lake,' I said. 

'You'd think since Latter Day Saints founded the city,' the guy continued, 'it'd be pretty safe, but, yeah, we heard it's wack. No offense.'

'I live close to Pioneer Park,' I said. 'Never safe at night. But it's the same thing with every big city, I guess.'

'We're attending college in Southern Nevada,' one of the girls said. 'Our friend is going back and forth from Reno to Utah. It's an inconvenience.'

'I would say so,' I said. 'But maybe she's in love.' I smiled at them and the girls looked at each other and smiled back sincerely. 

I finished my rice cake and flicked the crumbs off my shirt. I put the bags over my shoulder and was about to continue walking when one of the guys asked for help folding their pop up tent. 

'I swear it's the first time we're using it and we're struggling,' he said. 

Mine is the same kind of tent and, while I'd be using it that evening for the very first time too, I pretended like I knew what I was talking about after having watched a couple of videos on YouTube. I dropped my bags and went to their tent. 

'The trick is alignment. You have to align the steel hoops,' I said. 

'Yeah,' one of the guys said, 'but the canvas keeps bulging.' 

'That's just some air, that's all,' I said. 'Kneel on it.'

I stepped away and let them handle it. After a few tries, the guys managed to zip it up nice and tidy. They were grateful and kept saying thanks. I was beaming too. It was a little conversation that ended up being more than satisfying. Being in the wilderness by yourself can be intimidating but it was going well so far. I waved goodbye at the four of them and one of the guys said, 'nice hat,' before I lost sight of them. 

I fingered the brim of my baseball cap. I had bought it just for this trip and I was pretty damn proud of it by this point. 

Sometime after noon, I stopped for a breather. I was inching ever closer to the Lehman caves and I decided that I would set up camp in a small clearing by the tapering creek. I surmised that I would reach Ricky Kayles's last known location by tomorrow, which was earlier than I expected. 

I figured this was as good a place as any to settle for the night. There was a vault toilet below the ridge I was on, there was nice cool water from the creek, the Snake Range above me was a breathtaking marker, and there were plenty of firs around me for shade. I put down my bags, pulled out my tent and hoped that this was as safe as it was convenient. I had seen signs that said that hikers had to pay a camping fee but I had no idea who to pay it to and I hoped that I wouldn't get into trouble for essentially bamboozling the park rangers. I promised myself I would ask the first person I saw next.
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No person came.

After sunset, it got cold.   

I decided to record a vlog in the dark using my flashlight.

This is what I said: 


'Yo, guys! Trying not to make too much noise... it's very quiet here and no sign of life apart from some stars above though not too many of those yet either. Had a productive day. Made friends with some campers I met along the trail... I'll be honest, it's getting pretty spooky here, especially before there's proper starlight and moonlight. The sound of water from the creek is reassuring though. I'm getting close to what I came here for. I'll find that narrow cave mouth I told you guys about. That's where I am headed tomorrow... I should make it by late afternoon, I think. You heard that sound? You ever wonder what makes a crack in the woods? I mean, yeah, it's the branches snapping and the twigs, but you ever wonder who does it, especially when no one's around? Twigs don't snap on their own, do they? It must be because something large enough to break them stepped on them. It could be a marmot. I saw one of those earlier. It could be a beaver. Or a bighorn sheep. It could be people too but who'd be walking around in pitch black? Then again, here I am recording a vlog in absolute darkness! But I thought I'd give you a little update. Now I can see the big bear. And I'll see you guys tomorrow. Night night.'



Thursday, 10th August 2023

Last night, I dreamt I met Ricky Kayles. He was so charismatic, sprightly as always. He talked to me without expecting any personal info in return. The way he spoke, it was as if HE was the world, while everything else — the mountains, the desert, the brush, the water — were actors and stage scenery for HIS sake, HIS story. I barely noticed the background in the dream. He was in my plain and peripheral vision, taking up all the space. I was mesmerised as were, probably, the hundreds and thousands of his followers that he was talking about when he spoke to me. Then something happened to him and he touched the top of his head. When he brought his hand back, it was dripping red. 

Deep down, I knew that something terrible had really happened to Ricky Kayles, but I wanted to find him. I wanted him to find ME. 

The sky was grey again this morning but, by seven, it was already too hot for the cargo pants I was wearing. I was folding up my tent when I saw someone with a small pan approaching the running stream. It was the man I met at the trail map on the first day. 

He is older than me — I'd say there are ten years between us. He has some stubble and bright, brown hair. His eyes are yellow and warm and he waved at me when he saw me. 

' Early risers we are,' he said. 

I laughed a little too enthusiastically but he laughed back and splashed some water from the creek on the back of his neck and on the top of his head. 

'Thank God for trusty ol' water,' he said. 'You found a good spot. I'm further up. What are your plans today?'

'Lehman caves,' I said, 'or somewhere close. There are some rock formations I want to see there.'

'Rock formations? Really?' 

He came to where I was clearing up and looked at the map I'd brought with me of the area and that I'd left lying on the ground. He saw the red mark and pointed at it. He looked at me quizzically. I didn't want to tell him about Ricky Kayles, at least not yet. He seemed like a nice enough guy but I wasn't sure how to broach the subject without embarrassing myself. 

'Yeah,' I said, 'that's where the formations should be.'

The man nodded, still clearly unconvinced. He reached a hand out to me.

'I'm Kenny. Ken Costa, son of Portuguese immigrants but Boulder City born and bred,' he said.

I shook his hand. 'Karl Yesicky,' I said.

'Karl Yesicky. Very interesting name.'

'Immigrants too. Polish,' I said. 

Ken put his pan down and helped me finish up folding the tent and collecting my things. He picked up my map, gave it another glance or two and then handed it to me. I folded it and slipped it into the back pocket of my cargo pants. Ken didn't smell like pine anymore; he carried a scent of lemongrass. It was probably some mosquito repellent, something that I had stupidly not brought with me. 

'I'll be honest, Karl, I'm right now charmed by this rock formation of yours,' Ken said. 'Do you mind — and honestly, please, I'd like you to be brutal on this because I'm not at all into the idea of pretend politeness — but do you mind if I accompany you? I like the lone wolf thing but you got me all curious.'

Ken was disarming. Of course, I thought, he might help me if I get lost. He seemed like he knew what he was doing and I liked his presence anyway. 

'No pretend politeness,' I said. 'I'd love some company.'

And that was that. There were two when previously there was one. We went back to where he had camped, he packed things up, and we headed towards the Lehman caves together. It wasn't difficult to keep up with him. He seemed to want to take his time, have a conversation, and take in the sight of Wheeler Peak. 

'So what do you do, Karl?' Ken asked.

'I'm a doctor but also a mister,' I joked. 'Graduated with a doctorate in sociology. I started lecturing in college but things didn't work out so now I'm a consultant for a legal firm.'

I was surprised that Ken had so deftly and inconspicuously got me to share things about my private life, things I never thought I would talk about with a stranger I met on the trail. But here I was and here he was and things were completely fine. 

'Maybe you can come work with me. I own a few small businesses in Vegas,' he said. 'Some of them not doing very well.'

'I don't think you can afford me.'

Ken laughed, then shrugged. 

'So,' he said after some silence, 'what brings you to the park?'

I was about to drop Ricky's name but then hesitated. 'I've never been,' I said, 'and I have a couple of weeks of vacation leave.'

'Where did you say you're from?'

'I didn't. I'm from Utah. Salt Lake City.'

'Ah, the beehive state.'

'Or the Mormon state,' I said.

'Not very Mormon-y anymore though, is it?' 

'No, not very.'

We stopped on top of a rise and observed our surroundings. Ken took out his phone and tapped what looked like a message to someone. I too took out my phone to check our location. The Lehman caves were down the steep hill and to our left and the red dot was further north. We were closer to my goal than I thought we would be. I checked the time and it was creeping up on noon already. Time with Ken had flown by though we had walked without any sense of urgency. When I looked up from my phone, Ken was looking intensely at me as if he had spied something on my face that made him sad. 

'Let's put down our bags here a minute,' he said. 'What d'you think? We can snack on something. I have a fire permit, by the way.'

So we went down the rise. I held onto him at one point; he immediately noticed that I wasn't experienced with trekking or climbing and he didn't mind at all. When we found a shaded spot, he took off his green T-shirt and wiped his armpits with it. He took a few long breaths and sat down on the ground by a fire ring. 

'I'll collect some dead wood in a minute,' he said. 'Stopped smoking only a few weeks ago and my lungs are still recovering.'

Right then, I cursed inwardly. I had to record a vlog. Otherwise, when the series is eventually uploaded to YouTube, the timeline wouldn't make sense. I wouldn't be able to show my subscribers how I made it to the Ricky Kayles location. But I couldn't film it with Ken around; I was too embarrassed. I had to find a quiet moment to myself and I searched for an excuse to be alone. 

When he stood up to look for dead wood, I cleared my throat. 

'I think I'll go look for some in that direction,' I said. 

'It's better if you stay with our bags,' Ken said. He gave me a puzzled look. He put on his T-shirt and weaved around the trees and out of sight. 

I took out my phone and whispered the vlog in case he could hear me. I told my future followers that I'd met someone but that since this was the first time I was vlogging, I was a little shy about doing it in front of him. I wasn't confident enough yet. I said that I was close to the narrow cave opening I wanted to find and—

'Who are you talking to?' 

Ken had returned with a bundle of wood and frayed twigs.

'I was just recording a video,' I said casually. I stood up suddenly and said, 'I'm going to have a look around at our surroundings a bit.'

I left his side without waiting for his reaction and walked north. I was blushing at the thought that Ken must have heard me and understood what I was doing. Then I thought about my whispering and considered that maybe he didn't know what I was doing at all and might suspect that I harboured some ill intent and was going to hurt him or something. I decided there and then that, when I returned to our campsite, I would explain. I would tell him about Ricky Kayles. Ken had said that he didn't like bullshit so I wasn't going to give him any from here on out. 

I kept walking as these thoughts roiled in my head. I took out my phone and carried on vlogging, louder this time, so I'd ease into the truth I would soon express to my new companion. I was looking at the ground a lot because it was uneven and I took off my cap and fanned myself. The heat was unbearable by this point. 

I noticed something peeking out from underneath a clay-coloured rock. I bent down and looked at it first before poking it with my finger. 

It was a pocket-sized journal with an emerald cover. 

I kicked it from under the rock. Just a journal. Nothing more, nothing less. 
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Then it hit me like a sunbeam!

I picked up the journal and didn't bother dusting it off before I opened it to the first page. First thing I noticed were the initials: RK. Then I had a quick look at the rest of the pages — some bizarre writing and haphazard scribbles documenting some sort of expedition, culminating in a final page with the same words repeated over and over again. I could not believe it.

This journal must have belonged to Ricky Kayles. 

I stopped vlogging and fit the journal in the side pocket of my pants. My heart was beating fast and it was time to tell Ken the truth. 

I returned to our campsite and saw that Ken had already lit a fire that was smoking lightly and consistently. The smell of the burning wood was tasty and I felt the first real pang of hunger since I came to Nevada. I realised that I had turned cold and was no longer sweating. I went close to the fire and Ken raised his eyebrows at me.

'You OK?' he asked. 

'Yeah.'

'Lately, I'm always hungry. What about you? You craving some marinated pork sausages? Or I can make you a grilled cheese sandwich.' 

Ken rattled the grill with the tongs he was holding. He'd come very prepared unlike myself. I sat down on a flat rock close to the fire ring and sighed deeply. 

'What I said about the rock formation is true,' I began, 'but there's another reason why I came here.'

'Oh?' Ken shifted so that he was now facing me. The smoke from the fire obscured half his face but he didn't seem to mind. 'But, hold on,' he said. 'You got me curious about the rock formation and that part is true, so—'

'Yes, but that's not what I'm really looking for. In 2020, a famous YouTuber named Ricky Kayles disappeared somewhere close to the red dot on my map. He had lots of followers and people loved his videos. I came here to look for him.'

'2020? That's three years ago, my friend. I doubt you,' Ken said, gesturing to all of me with his tongs, 'will be able to find him. And I never heard of the guy, so he must not have been that famous.'

'He was. And, I know, it's a bit of a stretch but I'm curious to see what he saw, to maybe find out what made him vanish.'

'There be talk of aliens in these here parts,' Ken said. He laughed and then shook his head at me. 'I'm sorry, don't mind me.' 

I was more than a little disappointed that Ken seemed like he wasn't the least bit curious about Ricky. He didn't ask any follow-up questions about my confession. But, at least, he hadn't made too much of a joke of my story. And perhaps it was my fault for bringing it up at a bad time. Ken looked very focused on the food he'd be cooking. He took stuff out of his bag, unwrapped the meat from the cellophane. Looking at the pink pork that Ken pulled out with his dark fingers made my mouth water. 

I was too hungry to overthink our exchange, so I offered to help him cook and, after he told me to relax, watched him use the grill and heard the sizzle over the sound of birds and snapping twigs in the distance. During the whole time I waited for the food to be ready, I ran my hand over the square-shaped bulge in my side pocket. 

While we ate our lunch, Ken had his own confessions to make...

'I come here often. There's reasons for it too. My wife and I are running into some problems lately. Nothing explosive but, sometimes, a slow burn kind of inevitability is far worse than a full-blown argument. That's what's happening to us. We're drifting apart and every time we talk about something or discuss a decision we have to make, we invariably choose opposing sides as if we want to fight, to spark something, because it's better than nothing. There are never any sparks, however; we decide we disagree and postpone the decision for later, a later that never comes around. 

'My wife, she is native. Says she is a descendent of the Washoe tribe. She is very matter-of-fact and I find it an impossible task to get her to soften up most days. I'm the more sensitive one and I'm starting to think that that's why my lofty business ideas aren't making us much money. I keep thinking that one of these days — and I love her so much despite everything so this hurts to even think about — but there might be a divorce on the horizon, a formalising of our drifting-apart. I suggested couples therapy a few times but — what do you think she said? Waste of time. It's the sort of thing that's beneath her. You may laugh to your heart's content about what I'm about to tell you but sometimes, in the middle of the night, it's our little dog I think about, a stupid Basset Hound. Sedna and I never had and never will have any kids so this dog is our baby. What will happen to him?

'So here and there I take a few days off, let my managers handle the books, and come to the park. This is so I'm not in my wife's way, you know? Perhaps it will get her apple-hard heart to go a little soft, or, you know, as they say, absence will make her heart grow fonder. I also come here because I too am looking for something and, again, you can laugh at me for this but it's become something of a dream of mine to lay my eyes on a mountain lion or a bobcat. God, what I would do to see either one of those. I wouldn't need to take a picture either — I just want to see it and I'd love to go back home and tell Sedna, "Hey, you'll never guess what I saw today" and I'd tell her all about it and it'd be a story between us and something we could share. I'd love to see her eyes light up. She's my wife, Karl. I'd love to see her eyes light up.'

I observed him as he stuffed his mouth full of pork and saw his eyes glinting. He shifted and looked away and I could tell that he was crying. He was a biggish man, perhaps a little over six feet, with wide shoulders and thick thighs, but his whole body made a single obvious shake and he put his head in his hands. He then fumbled in his pockets and took out his phone. He tapped the screen and I looked away and through the gaps in the trees. 

The sunlight was falling in patches on the earth, a visceral white light that bleached everything around it so that I couldn't really see the ground so much as I knew it was there, the place where the sunlight hit. I felt like if I looked any further at the light, I would fall asleep. With a full belly and a crackling fire and the comforting sound of Ken not too far away, I could have very easily dozed off. 

'You ready to keep moving, Karl? Or should we stay awhile?' Ken asked. 

'Let's get going.' 

Ken stood up. 'You never know,' he said. 'Maybe this rock formation of yours turns out to be as magnificent as a red lynx and I'll have something pretty darn exciting to tell Sedna about. What do you think? Will your strange desire save my marriage?'

'I'm very sure it will,' I said. 

Ken smiled happily, his eyes still glinting.

We walked towards the red dot. By this point, Ken didn't ask to see the map and didn't check his phone. He followed me and let me guide the way without comment. It took a lot of walking and intermittent stopping in shady spots until we heard some owls hooting in the trees. Before long, we both stopped to look at the sloping side of Wheeler Peak. It was burning quietly as if going back in time to the age of sepia. The whole side was turning amber, the sun was setting, and we were still a couple of miles away from our goal. 

I took a picture of the orange peak and decided I didn't want to reach the cave mouth this evening. It has to happen tomorrow when I can record another vlog and have a quiet moment to myself.

'Would you look at that?' Ken said, completely enraptured by the colours of sundown. 

'We should camp here,' I said. 

Ken nodded and we put down our things. My leg muscles were exhausted and I could hardly bend down due to a pain splitting my back in two. We put up our tents across from each other. While Ken plugged in his phone to a sizeable power bank, I switched on my flashlight and secretly perused the journal I found earlier today. 

I am reproducing it in its entirety here:
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Friday, 11th August 2023

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I was so ready for what the day would bring that I started packing the moment I woke up. The sun was barely risen, it was just a pissy puddle staining the lower peaks. I didn't want to wake Ken because I needed to be alone for what was coming, there were vlogs to be recorded, caves to find. 

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But he had said he was an early riser and he proved it when, despite my complete silence while zipping up my tent, he opened his eyes and sat up straight before I could take off.

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'Good morning, Karl,' he said. 

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'Good morning.' 

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I wasn't going to be discouraged or frustrated. If he had to join me, so be it. I promised myself I would be confident no matter what, that I would record a vlog when I meant to. 

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The problem was that Ken seemed like he wanted to take his time. He said he would make us breakfast and, when I said I didn't eat so early in the morning, he dismissed me. 

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'Nonsense,' he said. 'How do you expect to make those legs of yours do the work? You need eggs and some soybeans. Soybeans are rich in iron, they'll transport all the oxygen to those busy legs.'

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I didn't feel like listening to his voice, especially when his early waking had thwarted my initial plans. I considered telling him that I was going to get a head start. When he started whistling while lighting a fire and heating a pan on the grill, I considered telling him that this is where we would part ways. I needed to get to the cave quickly — unlike Ken, I wasn't here to look at the peaks or the sunrise, I didn't come to the park for some much needed exercise and I especially didn't come for the company; I was here to find Ricky Kayles. 

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'I want to be quick,' I said. 'I kind of want to see other things while I'm here.'

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Ken put down the pan and looked at me with a mix of surprise and despondency. 

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'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm being selfish.' He stood up. 'Tell you what, you go on ahead. I think by now I know the location of the rock formation.'

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I nodded at him, tried a smile, and showed him my back. I was once again off on my own. 

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After about fifteen minutes of walking, I realised two things: my small bag was definitely lighter and I was missing my flashlight. In my hurry to get ready before Ken woke up, I'd left the flashlight on the ground. I cursed out loud and turned back. I ran. â€‹I hoped that during the fifteen minutes of my wasted walking, Ken had finished his breakfast and gone a different direction. I also hoped I wouldn't get lost. 

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It turned out that my luck and misfortune were balled into one. It was lucky that Ken wasn't finished because I could still see the trail of smoke coming from the fire ring, so I didn't go astray, but it also meant that Ken was still there. 

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I reached the campsite, breathless. 

​

'Missed me?' Ken said. 

​​​

'My flashlight,' I said.

​

I saw its twinkling lens in the sunlight. I went over to it and picked it up. When I turned, I saw that Ken was standing close to me, beaming.

​​

'I am ready if you just give me a couple of minutes. What do you think?' he said.

​​

'OK, sure,' I said. 

​

I thought of making a run for it when his back was turned. I was now in a state of panic. It felt like I was wasting too much time, that now it'd be hard to vlog.

​

I bit my tongue hard and took out my phone.​

​​​

'What's up, guys? It's early morning still. Woke up before the sun did. I made a friend by the name of Ken...' 

​​​

'Costa​​.'

​​

'Ken Costa. He's an experienced trekker, comes to the Great Basin often. Anyways, we're both heading to the narrow cave—'​

​​​​

'Rock formation, right?'

​​​​

'Yes, yes. We're on our way. Ken likes an early breakfast so I'm waiting ever so gracefully for him to decide that it's time to go. It's already pretty hot out here, the sun is shining. No grey skies today. So, I'll get back to you when we reach our destination. Bye for now.'

​​​​

Ken let out a laugh. 'That's good,' he said. 'You're pretty good at that. I never quite know what to say or how to act in front of a camera.'​

​​​​

Ken would never know how much that meant to me. I wanted so desperately to seem sprightly, to own the persona behind the camera, to put out something that would stand the test of time. I sat down on the flat rock I had used as my seat yesterday and lovingly waited for Ken to finish up packing, which he did very speedily. He double-checked everything to make sure he wasn't about to do what I'd done previously, gave me a thumbs up, and again we were two, heading towards the red dot on my map. 

​​​

By half past ten, we made it to the spot. I recorded another vlog. 

​​​

The rock formations weren't rock formations, not exactly. They were a bunch of loose boulders that seemed, at first glance, to be in a sort of circle caused by human intervention or at least through some incidental creativity on the part of natural weathering. But it was quite clear that these rocks had collapsed in a minor landslide and had fallen haphazardly in more or less the same spot. The more interesting aspect of my red dot, however, was there at the base of the mountain: the narrow cave mouth. 

​​

'This is it,' I said. 

​

Ken was still standing a few feet behind me, staring at the rocks. 

​​

'This? I'm afraid this isn't much of anything, my friend,' Ken said. 

​​

'No, but look: the cave. Did you know that in the past they used to bottle water from here because they believed that it had some curative properties? There might be a hot spring underneath. I read it in a leaflet from 1910.'

​​

'All this is new to me. So, what now? You're going to start a business selling groundwater? Even I know that that doesn't sound gainful.' 

​​​

'No,' I said. 'I'm going in.' 

​​

I put down my bags. The flashlight and my phone were the only things I pocketed. I gazed into the narrow slit in the rock, the ingress to the tomb. It was dark inside, a black that refused to accommodate. I was staring at the absolute. Ricky Kayles was there. I would join him. ​​​​​​​​​​

Where I begin.png
'Hang on a minute,' Ken said. 'You're not seriously thinking of going in there, are you?'

'Of course,' I said. 'That's why I'm here.'

'What's so special about this slit here?'

'I need you to record me going in and then hand me back the phone.'

'I'll do no such thing,' Ken said. He crossed his arms. 'My friend, you won't be able to squeeze yourself in there and, let me tell you, if you somehow manage to, you won't make it back out.'

'I want to do this,' I said. 'I want to become a legend, have followers watch my videos, thousands of them. Imagine: they're looking at me. They're looking for me.' 

Ken put down his bag and sighed. 

'This isn't interesting, Karl,' he said. 'Let's go look for a mountain lion instead. What d'you think?'

'No.'

I clicked on the flashlight and pointed the beam at the gaping mouth of the cave. More darkness, far more darkness than the light could penetrate. There were some jagged rocks on the inside wall, some alien shape I couldn't make out. I stepped forward, the beam of light finding more impenetrable darkness. 

'Hey.' Ken was shouting now. 'I'm not going back to my wife to tell her that I let some kid 
— because that's what you are — squeeze himself into a hole where he got himself killed. Come back here and let me talk some sense into you before I have to carry you out of the park.'

I ignored his pleas and put one foot inside the slit. It smelled like wet earth and death. The sound inside the hollow was like the inside of a conch shell, a quiet roar of emptiness. A whoosh of nothing. I put out my hand and aimed the light inside. 

'You're not really here for that YouTuber, are ya?' Ken said.

Suddenly, I was hit with an idea. I stepped away from the darkness and went back to my companion. He was taller than me, bigger than me, and he was smiling now like a reassured father. 

'I'm glad you're doing—'

I hit him with my flashlight on the top of his skull. He crouched and put his hands on his head. Some blood started trickling down his fingers. 

I hit him again, harder, in a spot on his head not protected by his hands. I hit him again. And again. I did it so hard that I felt my hat fly off my head. I kept hitting him, not quite aware of what he was doing, how he was trying to protect himself. The glass bulb of the flashlight exploded, the lens shattered and splintered. I kept hitting until Ken's skull gave way and I was hammering his own shards into his brain. There was red all over my flashlight, my hands, my arm, his green T-shirt, and especially what was left of the top of his head. When he dropped to the ground like a downed bird, twitching to death, I kept destroying what remained of my flashlight against his crushed head. 

He was more than dead. He was finished. 

I put my hands on my bare head and remembered. I looked for it and found that my Stetson hat had rolled away into a bush. I ran to it, put it back on my head, and returned to the corpse. I sat down next to it to catch my breath. When enough time had passed that I felt that the sun had left an indelible hot mark on the back of my neck, I took out my phone and took pictures of the corpse. I recorded a vlog.

'Hey, guys, so there's been a change of plans. That's the cave right there, a few feet away. I was about to go in, do what I promised all of you I would do. But my hiker friend said something. He said: this isn't that interesting. And, if there's anything I want, it's to compel you guys to keep tuning in to what I'm putting out. So, I have a surprise for you. See there? That mess in the dust? I'll get a little closer. That's what's left of my hiker friend and I hope that it's enough for you to share this video. I'm not sure whether I should do anything else to it, whether I should stuff it into that cave or kick it down the valley. Here's a close-up. I wish this was live so I could ask you for ideas but I'm pretty stumped. Stumped. Get it? Anyway, it's getting close to noon and I might record another video before I leave the park. I was hoping to upload 21 videos in total — that's a good number — but I've recorded very little since I came here. Maybe I'll put them all together and upload just the one. It'll be my one great project. I'll be honest, my initial idea was to get lost in the cave or, rather, pretend to get lost, create this element of suspense about what really might have happened to me but, all in all, I think this worked out even better than I'd hoped. I don't have to pretend anything. It's time to get going. I'll see you guys later. Buh-bye.' 

I lingered for a while. The afternoon turned to evening quickly. The corpse started buzzing and attracting the interest of some flying creatures, the same way I hoped it would attract my followers. I took out my green journal and threw it on the ground. It landed with a goopy thud next to the body. 

I looked up and saw Wheeler Peak in the distance. I was incredibly tired and my whole body ached like it had never done before and I had quite a journey back to make, one that I wasn't looking forward to, but there was no other option. This was simply the beginning. 

By the end of the day, I was on the US-50, the road back home.
≛≛≛≛≛

​I've been sitting on those videos for a while now. When I returned home from Nevada, I couldn't bring myself to upload them. Something stayed my hand and now, so many months later, I think I know what it was. I had watched the videos so many times. I had come to believe that I hadn't been sprightly enough, not convincing as much as I would have liked. Sure, the video series ended in an unexpected climax that I was sure would garner some attention. But if I, watching it back, was completely unmoved by the whole thing, how did I expect to excite the rest of the world? 

​

When I returned from Nevada, everything pretty much went back to normal, including â€‹my motivations and aspirations. I returned to my dull job, avoided people as best as I could while they successfully avoided me, and I carried on with my solitary life. 

​

Recently though, I was browsing the internet as I am in the habit of doing in the evening. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just leapfrogging from one headline to the next, one video to the other and I happened to click on a video of a famous online couple who were going hot air ballooning for the first time. 

​

The guy was telling the passenger guide that he wanted to jump off the balloon to skydive. The guide refused to allow this and even held the guy back to prevent him from satisfying his impulse. The guide said that if the balloon lost that much ballast so quickly, it could veer off into a different wind condition and kill everyone onboard. The girl, meanwhile, was being loud and obnoxious, saying that it was no big deal. 

​​​​

The video went viral. Millions of people had watched it, myself included. â€‹

​​

I wondered why it was so popular and then concluded that if something like that could reach all the corners of the planet, my own video series would be the peak of internet entertainment, an overnight sensation. 

​​

Just now, the footage from the Great Basin expedition is playing in the background. It could be better but I won't allow it to go to waste. â€‹â€‹

​​

I'll upload everything in the morning. The rest is up to you.

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