Becoming Odyssa - Jennifer Pharr Davis [73]
Mooch was pitiful. I knew he wasn’t faking it or exaggerating. But one thing that made it more tolerable for all of us was that Mooch was a master at making fun of himself. I never thought it was possible for someone to expound upon the concept of chafing with the language and detail that Mooch used. If you’re not the afflicted party, then a butt rash is pretty much always funny, but on Mooch it was hilarious.
I was so entertained by Mooch’s rants that I had almost forgotten about my own ailments when we reached our final road and met Magic Momma. Much to my delight, I was invited to spend another night at the lodge.
That night we enjoyed another delicious meal, complemented by more of Mooch’s offensive humor. Back at the room, we weren’t quite ready for bed, so we ended the evening with a few rounds of sleeping-bag wrestling.
I was new to the sport, but the rules were easy: all limbs must stay inside the sleeping bag, there is no standing allowed, and the first person to say “uncle” loses.
I may not have been the best wrestler, but I never said “uncle.” None of us did.
The next morning, the three of us set out together, this time to reach the northern park boundary. The morning hike was enjoyable and lighthearted, because that’s how it was hiking with Nightwalker and Mooch—it was fun. But as I listened to their banter, I also began to feel a little sad.
I knew that around lunchtime we would reach the road where Magic Momma would be waiting for us, and at that point, Nightwalker and Mooch would join her for two rest days off the trail, and I would continue hiking—alone. I liked hiking alone—no, I loved hiking alone— but I had also loved hiking with Nightwalker and Mooch.
They had invited me to spend their rest days with them and then continue as a group, but I didn’t want to take two rest days, and more importantly, I didn’t want to be a part of a group. My pride made me want to hike the trail alone, and my insecurities meant that I didn’t want the constant company. But at the same time, I was going to miss those two, and Magic Momma. My time in the Shenandoahs was the most fun and lighthearted I had experienced on the trail.
On the surface, I didn’t have much in common with Mooch or Nightwalker. Mooch had descended from a long line of New Yorkers, and he had the cynicism and humor to prove it. Nightwalker, on the other hand, was more of a cultural mutt, who was very interested in science and related closely with nature. I was, of course, Southern and Christian, which would count as at least two strikes against me to most New Englanders. But it seemed like it was because of our differences that our group worked so well together and the chemistry felt so strong.
While I was thinking about how much I would miss Mooch and Nightwalker, I felt something wet on my leg. I looked down and saw a bright yellow stream running from my inner thigh down my calf and into my sock.
I didn’t feel like I had to use the bathroom! I’d just stepped into the woods ten minutes ago. I was in shock, and without thinking, I blurted out, “But I just went!”
Nightwalker and Mooch, who had both been hiking behind me, overheard me and started cracking up. I was peeing on myself, and they were laughing! I was deciding whether to lash out at them or run into the woods and hide when Nightwalker finally said, “Odyssa, check your pack.”
My lemon-lime Gatorade, a present from Magic Momma, had leaked out of my day sack and down the middle of my legs. I was so relieved that I started laughing too. Then I stopped and looked at the boys very sternly.
Then I started to laugh again.