We knew that it might be our last chance, the last time we’d steal time from our lives to spend being a family – now, two-thirds of a family.

We were excited about the trip. There was an aura of melancholy, of course, knowing this might be our last opportunity to enjoy this cherished tradition, but also because her mother - my wife, Samantha, would be a part of it only in spirit.

Sam had died five years earlier, cervical cancer metastasizing and claiming her while Jenny was in high school. Her suffering was brutal on all of us and while we’d always been close, the tragedy pushed us closer; we’d clung to each other for support. I’d tried to ‘be strong’ for my little girl, but in truth she’d been at least as strong for me, bringing light into the darkness of my life in our time of grief. I think that’s when I realized that my little girl (she’d always be that!) had grown up and become a strong, brilliant woman.

Several years later, while the sense of loss was ever-present, the razor-sharp edges had dulled. Jennifer and I remained close, always there for each other, and planning our presumptive final backpacking trip had been bittersweet but still a joy; spending time with Jen always is.

~~~~~

Her mother and I shared with her a deep love of the backcountry; we’d backpacked together ever since we’d met and fallen in love in college. When Jennifer came along only two years into our marriage she became part of it, toddling on her chubby little legs on short ‘baby trips’ early and carrying a small pack of her own starting around age five. She’d grown tall and strong and was an accomplished outdoorswoman by her teens, developing an appreciation for “her mountains” that possibly surpassed our own. Time in the wilderness gave her a sense of inner peace and self-confidence that hadn’t existed before.

We’d continued the trips, Sam’s absence eventually beginning to feel less jarring, and we became more comfortable and at ease with each other than most parents and offspring. It took me awhile to stop ‘mother-henning’, see her as an adult instead of my little girl, but she kept at me until I did.

As always, we were able to discuss virtually any topic openly and honestly, respecting each other’s intelligence. We didn’t agree on everything; she was independent and had a stubborn streak as well as a mind of her own (astonishingly like her mother) but I would accept nothing less.

Now she was graduating and set to begin her new life, landing a job with the company she’d interned with; if that wasn’t enough, her wedding was scheduled for the following September. James was a good man and worshipped her, but an outdoorsman he wasn’t; he had no interest in roughing it in the backcountry. For James, relatively short and easy day trips were as much outdoor enjoyment as he could endure; the allure of sleeping on the ground in a tent escaped his grasp.

I thought them an odd couple, but who am I to question young love in all its wonder and weirdness? He made her happy, and Jenny would soon be far more his than mine. Tough for a parent to accept sometimes, but it’s how life works.

Jennifer, with her new, busy life, perhaps children eventually, was unlikely to have time for another trip for us. I desperately wanted this one to be memorable.

~~~~~

We’d chosen the San Juan Mountains in southern Colorado, in the Ouray/Lake City area. A rugged region of high, jagged peaks, dense forests, crystalline lakes, and clear, rushing streams, it’s glorious country; there are several large wilderness areas there. We picked a lake we’d visited as a family, reprising a trip we’d taken when Jen was thirteen. I picked her up at noon, and we arrived at the deserted trailhead after dark.

We slept in the back of my pickup, waking early to fix breakfast and hit the trail. We’d cover nine miles that day and ten the next to get to the lake, where we planned to relax, fish, and enjoy a few days together.

One thing about trail trips is the lack of privacy. You undress and change in close quarters, and sneak off into the woods when nature calls, and while we’d politely turn away, the fact remains that modesty is tough to maintain; we’d stopped making a big show of trying years ago.

I’d waited for my morning wood to subside before crawling out of my sleeping bag – Jenny would have laughed and made some crude joke, but no need for bulge displays. Still, she saw me in my briefs and I saw her in her tiny thong panties and sports bra - in retrospect, is no less than the average swimwear!

I couldn’t help but take pride in the fact that Jennifer had grown up to be gorgeous, a graceful, tautly athletic woman who looked so much like her mother at that age that it was eerie. With her long auburn hair mussed around her face and sleep in her eyes, when she smiled her lazy smile at me her beauty took my breath away.

“Mornin’, Daddy.”

“Morning, baby. You sleep good?”

“I did – if you were snoring, I didn’t hear it.”

She sat up, stretching her arms above her head in a luxurious stretch that displayed the smooth muscles of her arms, lats, and taut abdomen while pulling her breasts into smooth teardrop shapes.

“I don’t snore!”

A snort of laughter interrupted her stretch. “Hah! Liar – but you didn’t last night, or it didn’t wake me. What time do you think we’ll make camp today?”

“Depends entirely on how long you plan to laze around here yawning and stretching, sweetheart.”

She stuck her tongue out at me, slid out of her sleeping bag, and vaulted over the side, landing barefoot in the pine needles that blanketed the ground. If I’d tried that before some judicious stretching and warm-up I’d hurt my back and blow my Achilles' tendons; she had no such issues.

“Be right back, gotta pee.” She moved quickly into the shrubbery, small roll of TP in hand. As I watched her flawless little bare bottom disappear I could only shake my head, wondering how many horny young men had hit on her over the years. And how many, before James, had succeeded.

I quickly changed my underwear and was pulling on socks when she returned, hurrying; being semi-naked in forty-five-degree weather gets chilly very quickly. She was shivering, covered with goosebumps, her nipples thrusting out hard against her bra to lodge their complaint about the cold.  I looked away while she changed undies, then made my necessary trip into the woods.

Once dressed we each added a fleece jacket while we ate, but removed them before we hit the trail. We also changed into shorts; it was a long uphill grind the first three miles, so we’d stay plenty warm.

I looked at her. “Lead on, Huntress.”

“You go first.”

“Yeah? I thought you liked to lead.”

“Oh, I will. But you always start so slow until your old, creaky joints get loose that I’d leave you in the dust. I’ll take the lead after you stop hobbling along, old man.”

“You’re so nice! Some respect for your old paterfamilias, please; you realize I’m only forty-four, right?”

“Yes, but I’m only twenty-two, so… You gonna hike, or stand there jawing and making up big words all day?”

I laughed. “The mouth on you, girl! You do have a point, however.”

I led off. We chatted, open topic. She asked candidly about my love life and the lady I’d been dating recently, knowing I’d be squirming if she asked the right questions, which she did. I was thankful when we were both breathing hard enough to make conversation difficult; steep trails at 10,000 feet will do that.

We stopped to rest two miles up; when we set off again Jen took the lead and I followed, admiring the working of the long muscles of her legs and her firm glutes, and the way she never set a foot wrong on the rocky trail, never slid, never stumbled. For perhaps the millionth time since her birth, I marveled that Samantha and I had somehow come together to create something so utterly perfect.

It started to drizzle, so we stopped under a tree and ate the sandwiches we’d brought. We hit heavier rain later, but it quit before we reached our campsite; we set up camp, pitching our tent in the wet meadow. We’d chosen this spot for the creek and the views of the surrounding peaks, and we sat by the creek and enjoyed the beauty.

Jenny leaned her head on my shoulder and said, “I wish mom was here.”

“I know, hon’. So do I, every day.”

“I miss her.”

“Me too; I suppose we always will.”

“Will you get married again?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe; your mom spoiled me for other women.”

“The lady you’re seeing now, Miriam? She seems nice.”

“She is.”

“Sexy too.”

I smiled. “Yes, that too.”

“Thought about marrying her?”

“Jenner, neither of us expects that.”

“So you’re just using each other for sex.”

“Jen! Where did that come from?”

She laughed. “Did I embarrass you?”

“No more than usual – and yes, we’re having sex. Damn good sex, but we both enjoy the companionship too. Satisfied?”

She gave me her sly smile. “More importantly, is she?”

“Satisfied?” I laughed. “I love your sense of humor, even when you’re picking on me. And yes, she’s quite satisfied; as a gentleman, I always make sure.”

“I know. Mom told me, and that I should never settle for anything less.”

“She was right. A wise woman, your mom. Does James live up to her standards?”

She giggled. “Now who’s asking embarrassing questions?”

“Turnabout is fair play.”

“Yes, he does. James loves me; he’d stand on his head for me.”

“Huh! Go figure... Do you find that useful?”

Laughing, she wagged her eyebrows lasciviously. “Sometimes, sure; depends what’s on the menu.”

We laughed, then enjoyed a comfortable silence until I said, “I love that you and your mother could always talk so openly about anything, even if you do use it against me.”

“Just kiddingly.”

“I know. That you two had that bond was special to me.”

“Me too; it made us very close. You were the same, you know; anytime I’d come to you with questions about anything, even normal childhood curiosity, you always answered honestly and openly. I didn’t realize it then, but you respected my intelligence and didn’t treat me like a child.”

“I did, because you were a child, but you were wise beyond your years. Besides, there’s no point in letting you go through life with a lot of misconceptions about things.”

“Even intimate and potentially difficult things.”

“Mm-hmm, maybe especially those.”

“Thank you.”

I looked into her beautiful blue-green eyes, which pooled with tears. “Oh, Jenny… You’re welcome, honey, but seeing the beautiful, brilliant, capable woman you grew up to be is all the thanks I need.”

She hugged me and I held her as she sobbed once, then we sat with our arms around each other and watched the sunset. There was a narrow band of sky between the edge of the dark clouds and the mountaintops, and we watched the sun slide across the gap; the bottom of the clouds turned a brilliant orange and pink.

As the clouds changed to red and purple and then to gray, we returned to camp, building a small fire to fix our dinner. A well-oiled team, we had dinner ready quickly and cleaned up the same way, then sat and gazed into the fire and shared our lives. When it began to drizzle, then rain, we made a quick nature call, holding the flashlight for each other before retiring to our tent to listen to the storm. We let our campfire die a natural death; you couldn’t start a forest fire in those conditions with napalm.

We sat in our underwear in our sleeping bags and played cards by lantern light for awhile. I’m her dad, but I’m male, and I couldn’t help but notice how incredibly feminine she was, how much like her mom. Beyond her physical similarity and easy sexuality, she sounded like her mother; her voice was a different pitch and timbre, but the phrasing and inflections were the same.

She also had the same movements, gestures, and facial expressions. It was bittersweet and a little disorienting sometimes, but she couldn’t have found a better person after whom to model herself.

Exhausted when we lay down, the sound of the rain put us to sleep quickly. Thunder woke us some hours later as a cell of heavier storms moved in, and we lay awake talking, listening to it drawing close, watching the lightning illuminate our tiny tent.

After an enormous crash of thunder, something you feel in your bones at 11,000 feet, I said, “Makes you feel small and insignificant, doesn’t it?”

“We are, aren’t we? In the overall scheme?”

“True. You’re not to me though.”

“You either, dad.” I heard her laugh. “Does it make sense that, much as I hate being cold and wet, I love thunderstorms up here?”

“No. But you’re a woman; you don’t have to make sense.”

“Hey!”

I laughed. “That’s a good thing, makes you mysterious. Unpredictable. You’ll never get boring, something else you and your mom shared.”

“Oh. Well okay, then. I love you.”

“I love you too, Jenner. Should we get some sleep?”

We did, eventually, enjoying the awesome majesty of the storm as it moved over and past, drifting into sleep as the thunder faded. Next morning it was drizzling, so we made coffee and a quick breakfast of granola bars and moved on.

A couple hours and miles later it was still raining, but getting colder, and there were snowflakes mixed in. When we stopped for a break, I said, “This is miserable. I’d hoped the forecasts were wrong.”

“You knew it was gonna do this?”

“No, I knew they were predicting it; I also know weathermen are wrong as often as they’re right, so I didn’t cancel.”

“We could have rescheduled.”

“Could we?”

She fell quiet, then admitted, “I don’t know; maybe not.”

“I know it was selfish, hon’, but I couldn’t take the chance, couldn’t let this opportunity slip away.”

She smiled softly. “I understand… you know I’ll always have time for you, right?”

“I hope so. I know I will for you.” We both fell silent before I said, “So then; forward or back?”

“Whatever you want, dad.”

“Well, we know we can do this safely. We’re both excellent at wilderness stuff; we’ve been out in worse weather before.”

“True. Not as much fun, though.”

“Also true.”

She grinned. “And because we know we can do this and have before, we have nothing to prove by being miserable, right?”

I laughed. “Grasshopper possesses wisdom; the pupil leads the master. Back it is then, kiddo. Maybe we can find a warm, dry cabin somewhere, rotate out of there for some fishing or 4-wheeling for a few days.”

~~~~~

So that’s what we did. With it mostly downhill, we made it back to my truck an hour after darkness had fallen and into tiny Lake City before midnight. A small store/gas station was the only thing open, so we went there.

I talked to the guy about accommodations while Jen shopped for something to substitute for our skipped dinner. We lucked out; nothing was available, but he called a friend that had vacation cabins near town, on the Gunnison River. His friend had only the previous day started getting them opened for the summer, but he had one ready that he’d let us have.

Jen brought up snacks and two bottles of wine and we settled up, thanked the guy, and left.

We found the cabins easily. The proprietor came down the office steps when we pulled up. He had a cowboy hat and raincoat on over pajama bottoms, so I knew we’d gotten him out of bed. He climbed onto a golf cart and motioned for us to follow.

He led us to the only cabin with lights on, at the end of the drive, just feet from the river. There was smoke coming from the chimney. He said, “This is the only one I have ready. I came down and lit the heaters and started a fire when Bert called, but it’ll be chilly for awhile.”

We assured him it was no problem. He showed us in, his eyes flicking between me and Jenny – mostly, he looked at her. Wise man.

Opening the door, he said, “This is our honeymoon cabin; it’s the nicest one, romantic. Hot tub on the deck, perfect for you two.” It was an open floor plan with one king-size bed.

We realized that he’d assumed we were a couple; perhaps Bert had made the assumption and passed it along. It explained his long looks at us - he probably thought I was an old fool and she was my trophy wife or my mid-life crisis affair!

Unwilling to appear ungrateful for his kindness, we didn’t enlighten him; we’d work it out. He showed us the high points; firewood, matches, where the kitchen items and small appliances were, bathroom shower, towels, and such. We made arrangements for four nights, and he bid us goodnight, telling us to “holler” if we needed anything - no phones!

We got settled in, laughing about his misconception. He was right, though; it was still chilly. We sat in front of the fireplace under a quilt and ate our late dinner. Jenny had wisely chosen a smooth Chardonnay to pair with Strawberry PopTarts, so the cuisine was first-rate.

We were exhausted after our long day, but wanted to shower before bed; by then the water heater had done its job. I let Jenny go first while I stretched out on the bed. Dozing when I heard the bathroom door open, when I turned and looked at Jen my breath caught.

Her hair was piled up on her head, wrapped in one white towel, another wrapped around her and tucked above her breasts. It was long enough for modesty sake – barely – but what stopped my heart was that she looked exactly like her mother, who’d always done the same after bathing!

I stared, and felt...