Coming Home

[FOTH]

White Nose has been a big problem out here, too. We were losing entire colonies a few years ago, to the extent that the Forest Service closed some caves on its land, and requested that any cavers from out of state not bring in their own gear or clothing when entering others, so as not to risk spreading it. These restrictions were lifted two years ago, as the bat population began recovering, and now it really seems to be on the mend.

[kaijafon]

most all the caves around the NW corner of AR are still "off limits". I really think that this helped a lot with it not spreading here.

It's weird to look at, the fungus grows over their mouth and noses. Some have huge patches of the stuff. It doesn't seem to bother their breathing, like I thought it would.

In the lab where I was, there were up to five people at once working on this problem. They were breaking the fungus down to find a killer of it and if I'm not mistaken, they've done the genome on it. One of my lab-mates has written several papers on it and presented at many bat conferences all over the place. He got at least one of his doctorate degrees on the subject. (I think he is one of those professional students who will always be in school)

Anyways, it's big here and they've gotten several grants worth lot's of $$$$ for the research on it. And yeah, he has managed to 'kill it' but I don't think it is ready to use all over the place.

[kaijafon]

well sadly they have just found it
white nosed syndrome found

[FOTH]

In a low crouch some three feet from the fabric wall Einar quickly scanned the camp, seeing no one and seconds from hurrying to his feet and leaving the circle of tents when he heard the second zipper, flattening himself against the ground in what appeared to be his only hope of avoiding detection, and a rather poor one at that. Nothing nearby under or behind which to effectively conceal himself, the entire area consisting of trampled-down grass and little else, and Einar had the pistol in his hand, hoping there were only two, and that he could, if need be, take at least one of them by surprise.

Footsteps. He could hear them rustling in the grass, approaching, and then a swish of fabric as the individual entered the wall tent. There was a quiet greeting and then conversation, but Einar did not stick around to hear its nature, bolting for the rocks as soon as he was certain he would not be seen. Once there, out of breath and head swimming with a sudden dizziness from the exertion, he rolled into the deep shadows between two boulders, eye scanning the camp for any sign that there might be a third party present, that he might have been seen. Nothing. All appeared still, the muted tones of conversation still rising and falling in the wall tent, the two returnees seeming unaware that an intruder had been in their midst, unconcerned by how close they had come to a likely-deadly meeting with the same.

Success, then, escape, freedom, but Einar could hardly rejoice in it as he would have liked to do, going over in his mind the grid layout he had seen on the map, careful canvas of each and every cave and crevice in the cliffs above that lake, and he could not help but think that these bat scientists would almost inevitably stumble across the cave where he and his family had, even if only for a few days, taken refuge upon first arriving at the canyon. Should they do this, they would hardly be able to miss the signs of recent human habitation, tracks, remains of the fire, and they, as curious people, would wonder, would want to know…

The potential implications of such a discovery were, he knew, enormous. He must make certain no trail existed between that cave and their current shelter amongst the deadfall, several miles distant. Must also, he was coming to realize, find a spot from which he could watch to see if they did, indeed, discover that particular cave in their searching, what their reaction seemed to be should they enter, and take action accordingly. Of course, they might already have discovered it. They had taken those bat samples from somewhere, after all, and if they were currently searching the caves in the cliffs near that big lake on the map, perhaps they had already finished with those near the canyon rim. Only way to know for sure was to visit the cave, himself, and check for sign, and obvious risk lest he either meet someone there or unwittingly leave sign of his own that could be found and followed, but if he kept his distance he ought, he knew, to be able to determine whether the place had recently been visited, without leaving too much nearby sign of his own. The intruders were, after all, biologists and not trackers. Their focus was bats, not human fugitives or the tiny signs they might leave on the land. Which could all change in a real hurry if these guys see something suspicious, and put in a call to one agency or another, so you’d better be awfully careful out there, Einar…

Moving, scooting backwards on his belly and leaving the rocks before the rest of the men could return and make such a move terribly risky until after dark, Einar took his leave of the camp, retreating into the timber which had sheltered his approach. Safest, it seemed, would be to follow the canyon rim, keeping to the timber until he found a place where he could descend to the area of the cave where they had first sheltered. Which assumed he would be able to recognize it from up here, from above. Landmarks. He remembered how the land opposite had looked from the cave mouth, and it was that view he knew he must seek. That view and the strange, low tower erected by the men on the snowmobile as he and Liz had taken their leave of the place.

Once he’d got some distance behind him and the adrenalin of his near-discovery in camp began wearing off, Einar found himself rather suddenly and without warning feeling the full effects of his past several days of travel and cold nights, stomach hurting and hollow, limbs going numb and all the strength seeming to leave him so that he was forced to take a step, take a breath, pause before repeating, sometimes standing there in a daze for a minute or two between steps before he could summon the energy and drive to start moving again. The third time this happened, he found himself sagging for the ground, body swaying and knees giving way beneath him. No good. Snapped himself back upright, shifting his full weight to the injured leg by way of getting his attention and chasing away a bit of the sleepiness. It worked. Wake up. Can’t be doing this. You can sleep when you get back to Liz. Just gonna freeze if you try to sleep here, anyway. Even if you could do it. If it was safe, people-wise. Which it isn’t. Have to get further from this camp, find a way down to where you can see that cave, look for sign, maybe keep a watch on it for a while in case they’re still headed this way.

Moving again, picking his way around the remaining banks of snow and sticking, whenever possible, to frozen ground in the shadows rather than risk leaving marks in the mud where the snow slowly turned to liquid on the sunny sides of things and seeped into the ground, Einar made progress through the trees, reaching, at last, a spot from which he almost recognized the view across the canyon, picturing how it would look had he been two hundred feet lower and relieved to see a timber-choked gully, steep, but far more passable—and concealed—than the cliff face, cutting its way down in the direction he needed to travel. Good. Making progress. Keep moving.

Down the gully, terrain steeper than it had looked, but he made it, shape of the land all wrong to allow him to see the area immediately around the cave, but he was close, knew he would, with some effort, be able to get the desired perspective. Only, the light was fading. He pictured everyone returning to camp on the plateau above, straggling in by twos and threes as they had done the evening before, beginning to cook their supper…

Darkness. Not good to keep moving on this steep terrain now that darkness had fallen, could end up falling, himself, or leaving sign. Best to stop for the night, and he did. Resting, lying down on the uphill side of a low-sweeping spruce to conserve energy, a mistake, but he let his exhaustion speak to him, talk him into it, and within seconds he was sleeping, blackness, drifting, Liz beside him and he was aware of being dreadfully cold, rolled closer to her for warmth but after a time did not seem to be warming at all, might have discounted the fact—can take an awfully long time to effect significant changes in body temperature, after all—had not a dull ache in his back gone on increasing until it practically screamed at him with every slow, dull thump of his heart. No way to sleep under such conditions, and with a great reluctance he rolled over, doing his best not to disturb Liz…only to find that she was not there at all, the presence he had mistaken for hers belonging to a rather solid chunk of snow-encrusted, knobby-branched fallen spruce. One of its broken branches had been digging into the ribs on his back as he lay, explaining the backache.

Good thing for the tree, he told himself, or who knows how long you might have gone on sleeping? Too long. Anything is too long right now. Too much going on. You want one of those bat people following a limestone band down here, and stumbling over you in the process? You’d make one strange-looking bat, but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be interested…you might end up in a little plastic bag in that cooler just like the rest of their hapless sample animals, all labeled, dated and categorized, ready for future study. And they wouldn’t even need to add extra ice to preserve you, because you’d likely as not already be frozen.

On his feet then, body stiff and unwilling, Einar doing his best to swing arms and stomp feet, drive away a bit of the chill of the night and warm himself, but the chill, as so many times of late, seemed almost to be coming from inside, from his bones, and the exercise only served to make him dizzy. So he sat back down, drew his knees up inside the parka, and rested, counting stars in an attempt to stay awake and pressing an elbow into the hungry, hurting hollow of his stomach.

It was then, freezing in the night and with no prospect of ready food to sustain him over the miles which remained ahead, that Einar’s thoughts turned to the moose…

[icefire]

It was then, freezing in the night and with no prospect of ready food to sustain him over the miles which remained ahead, that Einar’s thoughts turned to the moose…

Yes, that moose should be hanging nearby, which would provide PLENTY of food for Einar, and for his family as well, if he can manage the strength to haul it (or at least SOME of it) back "home".

[2medicine woman]

I read this last night but was too sleepy to do much comprehension of it.

So, came back today and now it makes sense. I had been waiting and hoping they would get some of their moose back. But like Icefire said, Einar might not have much strength left in him to do much hauling. He is a pretty determined (read stubborn) man. I'm sure he will make an attempt at taking moose in probably a bigger load than he can manage.

By now, Liz and Will are missing him. Liz is fretting too. She knows it is too dangerous to be trekking around with people in the immediate area. Will knows something is up because he is very perceptive to his surroundings and human interaction.

I miss the raven. He is family too.

Well done Chris. Another great chapter. It's long too!

[FOTH]

Icefire and 2medicinewoman, yes, should be plenty of food available where the moose is cached, if he can safely make it there--and yes, he'll probably try and carry back more than he can really manage.

Unless someone is on his trail by then, and he's really trying to move in a hurry!

Thanks for reading!

__________________
Hundreds of pounds of meat, all frozen, safe and preserved high in its spruce tree cache, and Einar couldn’t get at any of it. At least, not in his dreams. Daylight had now arrived, was strong by that time with a hint of sunshine behind the high, thin clouds which had delayed the coming of dawn, and squinting out into the morning Einar could see no obvious signs of recent human activity around the cave where he and his family had sheltered upon first reaching that side of the canyon, no blatant trails where the unwary or inexperienced might have wallowed through snow grown rotten with warm spring days and only superficially stable after the cold of a recently passed night, but none of this was enough to assure him that the place had not been visited. Someone else could have done it, someone with more knowledge of moving in the high country, someone who might have deliberately come in the early morning, when the snow was still crusted over and barely a mark would be left by human passage.

Not that they would have cared about leaving marks, these bat-scientists. Not that they should care, as they had no cause to fear being tracked, discovered, taken. Yet still they might have visited the cliff-side cave in the morning, as he would have done, if for no other reason than the ease with which one could travel over hard-frozen spring snow in the morning. As he ought to be doing, and pretty promptly, before the sun found its way out from behind those clouds and he found himself leaving great, wallowing trenches that would show from miles away. Best be moving, then, and get it done, but—moving stiffly if with a fair amount of speed, now that he was up and on his feet—he stopped at the edge of the evergreen cluster which had concealed him for the night, pondering, shaking his head.

What did he expect to find there at the mouth of the cave or inside, on its ageless, dusty floors? Footprints? The tracks of several strangers? Then what? What would this tell him, other than the obvious? And how would this alter his course of action? Seemed, thinking about it now by the light of day, that he would surely be taking a bigger risk by exposing himself on the open slope which lay between timber than cave than he would be doing by skipping the cave altogether, and returning home. Might well leave sign that would get the wildlife people—if they had not yet visited the place—to wondering even more than they would over any evidence he and Liz had left the first time around. And worst of all, they might use it to follow him as he made his way back home. Nothing much to be gained by such an endeavor. Nothing, certainly, that could be seen as justifying the additional risks it would bring him, and his family.

Einar swayed dizzily, caught himself against the rough-barked trunk of the nearest spruce. What, then? Give the whole thing up and make his way home by the quickest and most thoroughly concealed route he could invent? Probably wisest. He had, after all, done what he came to do, discovered the purpose and intentions of the intruders and their planes, knew now that they posed little threat—at least directly—to himself or to his family, and ought, in time, to move on and leave them at peace to live their lives on the tangled slopes of deadfall and timber several miles distant. The more he thought about it—difficult to think much at all just then, hard as he was shaking as his body sought to drive off the vice-grip chill of the night—the more it seemed that he really ought to steer clear of that cave, leave the plateau-top camp and make his way home. Difficult to change course now when he had been so intent on inspecting the cave for sign, but with a distinctly less-than-agile gait at the moment and eyes upon which he knew he could hardly rely to pick out every little detail as they could usually do, he might well leave behind more sign of his own than he would discover.

Einar turned, walked back into the timber. Home, then. Which only left the question of which was the safest and most efficient route. Could retrace his steps along the canyon rim and then up and over the series of ridges by which he had come to the place, but long practice told him that only the man who wants to get ambushed makes a habit of retracing his steps. Best and safest—and most likely to keep him out of contact with the wildlife folks—seemed to be to drop down into the canyon and more or less repeat the journey he, Liz and Will had made some days prior. A journey which could, if properly planned, take him past the moose and an opportunity both to harvest some meat to take back to the shelter for Liz, and to obtain for himself a bit of fuel, also.

Though not much caring to admit as much, Einar knew he was in pretty desperate need of some serious nutrition, all the food sent by Liz long since eaten and his body struggling mightily to find the energy to keep itself functionally warm, let alone perform the tasks he knew he would be asking of it over the coming hours and days. Moose meat seemed a pretty good solution, if he could get to it without alerting the men on the plateau, and drawing their interest. No reason, so far as he knew, for them to be down in the canyon at all. Geology was all wrong down there for caves, not limestone at all, but granite. The limestone layer, he knew from observing it from the canyon’s opposite rim, extended only two hundred feet or so below the rim itself. Still, the situation demanded caution, and it was with caution he moved as he set out, descending slowly between the trees and hoping the narrow, rocky couloir which was his current path would continue to the canyon floor and not leave him stranded amongst the cliffs hundreds of feet above his objective.

[2medicine woman]

It seems he made his escape from the scientists. I just hope he has the strength to get down the mountain side and to the moose meat. A nice chunk would restore the protein and calories his body needs.

I like the crunchy top snow. It's easy to walk on. But.. when it gets warm, down you go, into the drift or whatever configuration of snow lies beneath you. Or, you fall over like a drunken sailor. LOL

Thanks for the latest update Chris.

[icefire]

Yes, retracing the journey that he, Liz, and little Will made (AND picking upa good chunk of that moose meat seems like the best course of action.

[FOTH]

When Einar had been gone for two days and Liz finished doing all she could to improve the shelter roof and further insulate its walls she began growing restless, wishing she might have gone with him and convincing herself only with difficulty that she ought not attempt to catch up with him, now. No telling what dangers and difficulties might have accosted him out in the rough country that lay between their shelter and the canyon rim to which he had been headed, but of several she was sure.

Fallen, tangled timber, high winds and the extreme cold of the night she knew, would have been his lot even had things gone well, and she worried that in his focus on reaching the meadows the food she had sent might well go unnoticed, uneaten, he growing colder and colder at night until he before long—it wouldn’t take long—used up any meager supply of energy his body had managed to stock away over the past days of better eating, and he found himself again entirely exhausted, fighting simply to stay alive, let alone to make the return journey. She shook her head, retrieved Will, who having galloped away on hands and knees and boosted himself to his feet against the door, was doing his best to get it open. Einar had wanted to make the journey alone, had successfully returned from many similar in the past, and she must simply have faith that he would do so again. Not an easy wait, but she’d get through it. Could keep busy on the trapline—if she was careful not to leave too much sign, the passing of more planes still remaining a very immediate threat.


Slow going through the bent, gnarled timber and steep rock of the narrow little couloir, Einar having to choose each step with caution lest he send a cascade of small loose stones—or, in some places, bigger ones—skittering down the rocky channel to bounce and echo and alert anyone in the vicinity to the passage of a large creature. He laughed silently at the thought of his being mistaken for a bighorn sheep—no doubt you’ll be that agile again someday, but not until this leg finishes healing up. Figure you’re moving a lot more like a giant sloth or something, at the moment. Those bat scientists might mistake you for a Sasquatch and really think they’d made the discovery of the decade!—kept moving down the steepness, pausing now and then to survey the area around the cave and glance back up at the canyon rim itself to make sure no human form was silhouetted there. Would be foolish for anyone to linger for more than a fraction of a second in such a position, exposing themselves to detection and worse against the harsh light of the horizon, but he had learned in observing people over the years that few take such matters into consideration unless they had, themselves, been in a situation where such cautions could quite literally make the difference between life and death. Foolish oversight. Sometimes he wondered how the species went on surviving.

Scanning the horizon he saw nothing that appeared out of the ordinary, twisted skeletons of the occasional ancient and wind-battered limber pine rising black and sharply outlined against the midday light, but no human form showing itself, no movement giving away a watcher. He had reason to hope that he had, at the least, managed to slip away unnoticed after his surveillance of the camp and his near miss with the early-returning scientists. Wished there had been a better way to approach the cave and determine for certain whether or not it had been recently entered, but now, looking back up two hundred feet of steep slope at the area and still able to see the spot where he knew the cave mouth lay, he knew he’d made the right decision in staying away. Too much chance of his being spotted out on that open ground, and even had he taken the risk and found evidence that the scientists had been inside the cave, there seemed little chance that the discovery would have significantly altered his course of action. Any information they might have gained from entering that cave could have already been spread to the four winds, and short of returning to the camp, capturing someone and hoping they could tell him whether such information might pose a threat to him and to his family—absurd plan for several reasons, not even a consideration—all he could really do was to avoid leaving further sign on the way back home.

Which means you really ought to be avoiding that moose, you know. Not only because you risk leaving fresh tracks and sign in the area, but think about it. What if that thing’s already been discovered by some hiker, big cat hunter, by the guys up on the other rim who were putting up those funny antennas….and they reported it to the Forest Service. Or worse, to whoever’s now in charge of any ongoing search? What’s to say either of those parties wouldn’t have set up camera sand other sensors all around that thing just to catch you—or some supposed poacher—when you return? Talk about risk. That moose is probably the biggest risk you could take, out here. Well, except for snooping around those tents maybe, but that’s done.

Getting too cold standing still he started downwards again, matter of the moose not solved, but he still had time. More time than he would have thought, in fact, for the lower he descended the more soggy and rotten grew the snow, he no longer able to stay on top of the crust as he eased his way down between the trees, clinging to their flexible boughs in a desperate attempt to support most of his weight and prevent himself falling through up to his waist with every third or fourth step, but with limited success. When he did fall through it was exhausting work freeing himself, wrapping an arm around the nearest available spruce bough and using it to try and hoist himself out of the hole, worrying all the time about the marks he was leaving in the snow, great pits which would surely be visible from the air as well as from the far rim of the canyon, but short of turning around and going back up the way he had come, there was no help for it.

Fifteen hundred feet and four hours later Einar, bleary-eyed with weariness and soaking wet from the chest down, realized that he was nearing the canyon floor. In addition to poor snow conditions which had required him to push his way through rotten drifts and stop every so often to extricate himself from a deep pit whose sides kept collapsing as he tried to hoist himself up and out, he had been forced to contend with several bands of sheer cliffs which had almost stopped his descent altogether. Traversing sometimes many yards to either side he had found his way around these obstacles one by one, but each effort had cost him time, and now it was nearly dark. A cold, clear night it was to be by the look of things, and Einar, long out of food, no way to get dry before nightfall and with fire out of the question, was at last faced with decision time about the moose.

[2medicine woman]

***waits with bated breath***

In this case, I am not sure what Einar should do. It's one of those catch 22 things.

I will sit back and see how this pans out.

oh.. we had rain, wind, freezing rain, sleet, blizzard conditions AND a tornado in that mess yesterday. I have never in all my many years in Minnesota seen or heard of a tornado in a snow storm. Very strange weather!

Thanks for the new post Chris.

[icefire]

Go for the moose, Einar; go for the moose! Einar REALLY needs the energy some of that moose meat will provide...it could well mean the difference between surviving the night or NOT!