Starry Night

twenty-one

After leaving the falls, we hike the next trail for the rest of the afternoon, communicating only when necessary, and occasionally delving into safe subjects. The national park system. The weather. We maintain a polite distance from each other, as if we're just two acquaintances, sharing the trail. As if we didn't just kiss each other's faces off. As if my entire world hasn't flipped onto its back like some stranded, flailing turtle.

Though we pass a few hikers, when we get to the end of the trail in the early evening, I'm startled to see not only a ranger station, but also an entire campground bustling with people. A road. Cars. The scent of meat cooking on grills. Music playing in someone's RV.

"Camp Euphoria," Jungkook informs me. "The trailhead is here. You need reservations to hike Euphoria Trail at this time of the year. They try to keep the number of people on it at a certain level, so it's not elbow to elbow."

"It looks pretty elbow to elbow now," I say, scanning the campground.

"Everyone wants to walk where Park Jimin took photos," he says. "The trail goes up to the crown, which overlooks the whole park."

I think I've heard about that. It sounds familiar, so it must be a big tourist draw.

"There are campgrounds along the way for people who like a few modern conveniences, but this is probably the biggest one," Jungkook says. "And here's the ranger station I told you about."

The station is small, dark brown log cabin on the edge of the campground. Outside the door stands a board of printed notices - announcements about the weather, the status of each campsite, and which trails are closed. There's even a warning about a mountain lion in the area, several missing people, and another about a small, twin-engine plane that's crashed in the mountains. Hikers are to stay clear of the wreckage until the park can arrange to have it transported.

"What in world?" I murmur, reading the flyers. I'm not sure which notice is worse.

Jungkook doesn't seem worried about the mountain lion, because he taps on the plane-crash announcement and whistles softly. "I've heard about stuff like this. The entire mountain chain is a graveyard for lost planes. It's called the Songnisan Triangle."

"Like the Bermuda Triangle?"

"Just like that. From Daegu to Yeongdeok - basically, a big dead zone over the provinces where planes go down or disappear entirely." The drama in his voice increases. "Some say it's a combination of rapidly changing weather, strong winds, and hidden peaks. But the whole mountain chain has this spooky Area 97 mythos. More than two thousand planes have gone down here since 1960. Some just fell off the radar, never found."

"Whoa," I say, suitably impressed.

His lips pull into a gentle curve - just for a moment. Then he sobers up and goes quiet.

"So, this Euphoria Trail . . . ," I ask, trying to recall his map. "Is that where we'd be going to get to Aspan Peak?"

He shakes his head. "We don't have hiking reservations, and it's headed south. We'd need to go west from here. There's a smaller trail through the backcountry. I've been on it before, so no surprises like the caves yesterday."

"I see."

He gestures toward the ranger station. "Unless you've decided to go home."

Have I? I've been think about that decision the entire afternoon. Along with everything that he told me about homecoming. And about the kiss.

Definitely thinking about the kiss.

I could continue on. (But what if we end up fighting?)

I could call for a ride home. (But what if I regret not staying?)