Black Lycra High-Rise Tights

“Charlie, where are you?” My voice was hoarse now. I had neither water nor trail-mix, and Charlie had my jacket, it was freezing cold, and my damp T-shirt was clinging to me.

Why was it taking so long? I looked up at the starry sky and felt betrayed by the euphoria and contentment that had briefly seized me.

Why did he turn off the flashlight? Surely, it was harder climbing in the dark?

“Charlie! Charlie!” My cries echoed off the mountain and were swallowed by the forest.

Lightning flashed again at the horizon, revealing that I was on a narrow ledge not the safe flat space that Charlie had anticipated. I was inches from the precipice that I’d climbed, and inches from the flat and featureless granite wall that loomed overhead. There must be a passage, or the ledge must lead somewhere, I thought. Charlie would show me the way once he finished climbing up to me.

Silence and Darkness. One clumsy move and I would fall into the dark blanket of night.

I should have put my foot down at the start of the day, in Boston, or when we arrived in the White Mountains later than planned, past noon.

“Are you sure we have time to do the loop?” I said, as we sat on the rocks at the edge of the trail-head parking lot and put on our new hiking boots.

“Of course,” said Charlie, “we have plenty of time.” Tetchy and irritable. Was he being sarcastic? When was he not?

The drive from Boston to the White Mountains took longer than planned because I needed two bathroom breaks and a stop at a supermarket.

“You don’t need fucking trail-mix with M&Ms,” he said in the shopping aisle, loud enough to be overheard.

“I’m hungry already.”

Charlie rolled his eyes. “Well, maybe you are pregnant after all.”

This was my first hike with Charlie. It was something he’d been pestering for me to do since the day we’d met, long before we got married. The New Hampshire mountains were part of his childhood, and I’d promised him we’d hike the trails, first chance, but I was never much of an outdoorsy person, and the woods scared me. He was persistent, and about a year ago he’d taken me to an outdoor-sports store to buy these hiking boots and a waterproof. We hung the jacket in the hallway and ticked the boots under the bench, and every day for a year I was filled with guilt when I left the apartment. I was too busy, I felt unwell, I had a dental appointment; I always had an excuse. Until now.

“But Charlie, Gore Mountain is already casting a shadow in this direction,” I said, pointing at the monstrous snow-capped mass of Mount Washington in the distance. It was late spring, a warm day according to the weather reports, but the chill of the mountains was trapped in the valley and in the thick forest.

A young family, dressed in bright pastels, drew up in an SUV. “Live Free or Die” plates. Locals. In the time it took me to lace up my boot, they’d emerged from the automobile, put on their boots and hiking gear and were on their way. The wife was wearing black tights, and her legs were long, slender and muscular and Charlie watched her every move, and I knew what he was thinking because he never looked at me that way anymore.

An elderly couple emerged from under the trees from along a path strewn with red pine needles.

“First time, dear?” said the old woman with a smile, as she saw me struggling with the second boot.

“They’re new boots,” said Charlie. “I’ve done this hike a dozen times. We know what we are doing, thank you very much.”

There was a wooden signpost at the head of the trail, a sign-in sheet, and a pencil tied to a piece of string, pinned to the post.

“It’s for tourists,” said Charlie marching straight past the post.

“Aren’t we tourists?”

“No, we are not tourists. I grew up in Goreham, Tina!”

“Why are you so angry, Charlie?”

“I’m not angry.”

We walked in silence for a while. The trail was flat and easy-going, a spongy carpet of fallen leaves and pine needles. Charlie was walking fast, but I was able to keep up! I was also hot and sweaty, so I took off my waterproof jacket.

“Charlie, can I have some water?”

“Already? We’ve only been walking for fifteen minutes.” He stopped, and looked at me. “Where’s your backpack?” It was a reprimand.

“Oh shit, I forgot,”

“And is that all you are wearing?”

I was wearing a T-shirt and carrying the waterproof in my hand.

He handed me his flask of water and took my jacket and tucked it under in his backpack.

“Can I have some of the trail-mix?” I said, yearning for something sweet.

Some people were following us up the trail. I could hear them chatting and I could see their dayglo colors flashing through the trees and undergrowth. They were bounding like gazelles up the pathway, two women, about my age, trail runners, wearing sneakers, not boots, wearing the dreaded black Lycra tights, not the baggy khakis that Charlie insisted I wear because "I looked better in pants.". The women ran past us like we weren’t even there.

I clapped them on. "You go girls!"

Charles looked at me like he had a bad taste in his mouth.

“My feet are hurting.” My feet were sliding back in my new boots as we went up hill, and forward when we went down-hill. The back and forth was giving me blisters.

“You want to go back?” Charlie was not at all happy. I was spoiling his big day. I needed to be tougher.

“No, but I think I need to take my boots off for a minute.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, you’ll have to put them back on again before we go any further.”

He looked at his map. We were on the blue-blaze trail and he’d been checking the map every few minutes.

“Listen, if we keep going a bit further there’s a stream and some rock pools and you can bathe your feet in the water.”

I pegged onwards. The path was steeper, and I was scared I might fall, but we reached the stream, which was a gushing torrent. Charlie went off to figure out a route across the stream. I went to a large rock, sat on it and swung my boots into the water, which was icy cold but a huge relief!

“What the fuck are you doing with your feet in the water?”

“It’s like you said, very soothing.” I smiled with pleasure.

“Not with your boots and socks on! You can’t hike in wet boots. If you’re feet are blistering, this will only make things worse. Tina, you idiot, don’t you have any common sense?”

How rude! “Apparently, Not, Charlie! But it would have helped if you’d been paying me more attention. It’s not like I’ve ever done this before.”

It was getting dark.

“We need to get moving,” said Charlie, looking at his watch.

“We’re going back down the way we came?” This was terrible news. We’d come such a long way, and I wasn’t sure that I could make it back down such a difficult path. “Can’t we press on? We must be more than halfway through the loop.”

Charlie gave the situation thought, making me anxious. It was obviously not an easy decision, and I didn't like the rift between us.

“Hey Tina, I’m sorry I’ve been so unpleasant.”

It was a puzzling, but welcome, change of tone.

“That’s alright Charlie, I know how much this trip means to you, and I must be a very disappointing companion; it's not what you signed up for when we got married?” I said, playfully, looking to elicit a chuckle from the man I knew.

“No, you’re right about that.”

“No, you’re right about what?” I thought. When we got married, I was pretty and diet-thin, the skinniest I'd ever been. The perfect wife. I was never outdoorsy, I couldn’t jog like Charlie, and I was like a fish out of water at his gym, but I was good at dieting back then, because I knew he like the way I looked. And I worked hard, paid my way, and I gave him the space he needed, whenever he needed it! And here I was, hiking the White Mountains with Charlie, for Charlie! I didn't deserve the snide remark.

“Maybe you should put your boots back on?”

My feet were blistered badly and walking barefoot gave me some relief but there were needles and prickles and small stones and slippery roots and soon enough my feet were bruised, torn, and bleeding, and I was hobbling.

“Can you phone and get help?”:

Charlie looked at his phone.

“No bars.”

“Can you show me where we are on the map?”

Charlie handed me the map and pointed at some squiggly lines that meant nothing to me.

"I need to get you back to the car," said Charlie, solicitous, which made me feel a bit guilty for the way I'd been thinking about him,

“There’s a place up ahead where we can rest up, but we need to scramble a little way. It might be easier on you if you are clambering and able to use your hands and feet.”

“It’s not too high or steep? You know I get bad vertigo.”

“No it will be OK. I will be with you, Tina," he said softly.

"Thank you, Charlie."

I had trouble positioning my hands and feet for the rock scramble in the dark. Charlie, following me closely, pointed me in the right direction and gave me instructions, and he held me when I felt unsteady. It somehow brought us much closer together, and in the gloom, I felt momentarily safe, until we’d the scramble turned into a climb.

“My hands and feet are cold, Charlie.”

“It’s not much further”.

It was dark now, a full-moon eclipse. A flash of lightning in the far distance illuminated my perilous situation; I froze in fear at a vast chasm below. One mis-step and I would fall to my death.

“Charlie I can’t go on!” I clutched the granite rock, my heart thundering.

Charlie removed the flashlight from his pocket and the light shone so bright that it blinded me. He pointed the flashlight up above.

“When we get to the top you will be safe. The blue-blaze path continues, but on flat ground again"."

The flashlight was so bright that I’d lost night vision, and all I could see was the stark rockface above.

“Shine the torch downwards so I can see below.”

Charlie urged me on. "It's best not to look down," and having no choice I climbed and - strangely - it was easier climbing up into the light. If I fell I would be caught in the black blanket of night.

“Charlie, I made it!” I scrambled onto flat rock and was safe.

“Oh, that’s great Tina, I will follow you up. Wait where you are! It might take a while in the dark."

He turned off the flashlight and I heard him climbing the exposed wall.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere," I said, my heart pounding, I was exhausted but relieved by the press of the flat rock against my back.

"I'll be with you soon, Tina."

I was overcome with euphoria at my triumph. It was ugly, but I made it! I climbed a mountain at night! I looked up at the stars and lost my soul in the universe for a moment. Should I start jogging or going to the gym? I could buy running tights!

“Charlie, I think I can get used to this.” I could be the perfect wife again.