Lost Canyon. Nina Revoyr

She sounded disappointed but maybe a little relieved.

      “Honestly, most people have just gone home. They’ve had their hearts set on Cloud Lakes. But that’s a shame, if you ask me. There are plenty of other beautiful places to go.” He paused, fiddled with a knob on the walkie-talkie. “Those who have decided to stay have done one of the trails I suggested. They’ll probably be pretty crowded this weekend.”

      “All the more reason not to do them,” Tracy said. “Isn’t there anyplace else?”

      The ranger stood up and pulled on his scraggly beard, looking thoughtful. “There might be one more place you could try . . .” he said, half to himself. Then, shaking his head, “No, it’s probably not a good idea.”

      “What?” Tracy asked, leaning over the counter.

      “Well . . .” He looked at them, lifting one eyebrow and then the other. “There’s a real off-the-beaten-path kind of trail just outside of the park. It’s the right length trip for you—about thirty miles. It’s gorgeous, and you’ll get the same variety of landscape as the Cloud Lakes trail—river and meadow, some alpine lakes, then a couple of high passes. And what I believe is the prettiest canyon in the whole Sierra . . . The thing is, no one’s hiked the trail in years. It’s not even marked on this map.”

      “How do you know about it?” Todd asked.

      The ranger spread the map out with his hands again. They were big, gnarled hands, twisted and aged by years of living in the mountains. “I’ve been up here a long time—over forty years. I’ve been to places that aren’t marked on the Forest Service map or any other. This trail, I hiked it with a buddy once almost thirty years ago. It was one of my favorite trips ever.”

      “Well, if it’s so awesome,” Todd asked, “why doesn’t anyone do it?”

      The ranger smiled, and his expression was complicated. “It’s real remote, and the road to get to it is a killer. The Forest Service doesn’t maintain it anymore.”

      It sounded like there was more to the story, but Tracy was clearly intrigued. “Well, what do you think, guys?” she asked, turning to the others.

      “I don’t know . . .” Gwen said. Then to the ranger: “Are you sure it’s okay?”

      “Oh, absolutely! I mean, there is a trail; it’s just not been maintained. The most you’re likely to find, though, is some overgrown brush and fallen trees. But it’s beautiful, I promise. Well worth the trouble to get there.”

      They all looked at each other. Oscar sighed. “Well, it would be a shame to go home after we’ve come all the way up here.”

      “We could at least go check it out,” Todd said.

      Tracy turned to Gwen. “How about you?”

      “I don’t know. But if the rest of you think it’s okay . . .”

      Tracy beamed. “Great! Let’s do it.” Now she turned back to the ranger. “So—where would we be going?”

      Ranger Baxter took out another map, which showed the park and the surrounding wilderness area. All four of them crowded the counter to look. “Here,” he said, taking a green highlighter and marking an X in one corner, “is where we are, at Redwood Station. This,” he hovered over a line with his pen but didn’t touch down, “takes you to the end of the road where the Cloud Lakes trail begins. Here,” and now he set the point of the pen down and traced a solid line and then a broken one somewhere north and west of the main trailhead, toward the edge of the map, “is where you’d be going. There’s a primitive campsite about eight miles down at the end of this dirt road, probably a forty-minute drive from the main road. About halfway down there’s a turnoff to the left—but don’t take that, just keep heading straight down. Once you get to the end, there might even be an old fire ring. Trailhead should be right there too.”