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.