all the light is gone

we didn't know what we were getting into. over 900 feet up in less than a mile, steep rock walls spider-walked across, cold wind wiping across us in october, 2700 feet above sea level at the apex in oregon. eugene is splayed out below us in the ever encroaching darkness as a series of glittering lights. out there are more white people with dreads than the rest of the west coast. at the top, several dogs sit at attention, several people take photos. i find a small little pathway around the edge of the summit, a crooked tree seems to beckon me in; around the corner, someone lights up a blunt, i have stumbled into their nature reserve, i walk out embarrassed.

the walk back down is the 'easy' route, but the rapidly increasing darkness renders the less steep surface every bit as unknowable, occasional stone steps and divots provide all the obstacle needed. the park is open for a bit longer but it might as well not be. we pass nobody on the way down and nobody passes us, the crowd at the top seems to have dispersed into air, there were surely still people up there when we began our descent.

half way down the obstacles grow wings. small objects dart at our face only to ditch impact at the last second, constant, constant, constant. the bats could be showing off their echolocation, or maybe just seek to scare us from their home. it becomes almost surreal how frequent they dive and then rise at the last possible moment. like a storm at about 6 feet above ground.

the path has become flatter now, railroad ties line the dirt path flattened by years of feet. the sunlight heaves one last sigh unto the world and disappears entirely. a flashlight on the end of my phone is all that can show us the way. but there is a different light up ahead. for a brief moment, i wonder if it is the end of the road, the lights  back at the portable toilets and maps and parking lot. it is not the end. it is a bench in front of a swamp. on the bench sit two people, completely and utterly still. they could be statues. they could be ghosts. a lantern sits on the ground next to them. the bats continue but seem to avoid them and them alone, as if a small protective dome surrounds the two figures. there is no talking, no breathing. i do not see them move. in embarrassment i peel my eyes away. it is pitch black. the park closes in 45 minutes. i wonder what it is to them. a date, a getaway, a quiet place, a haunting. i steal one last glance at the bench when i am 50 feet past. i have gone around a bend. all the light is gone.