Coming Home

[woofbarkenarf]

Excellent story FOTH!
The part where they needed to get the parachute off the limb reminded me of a time while out camping with the wife and kids, we got a kite caught up in a tree. I had several hundred feet of "jetline" (a polypropylene twine like rope for pulling through conduit) I tied this to each end of a ropesaw, tied a rock on one end and "slinged" it up and over the branch some 50 feet up, then dragged the ropesaw into place and cut it down. I thought I was mighty clever coming up with that solution.

[FOTH]

Woofbarkenarf, sounds like a successful rescue of the kite! That jetline is some very sturdy and useful stuff!


Folks, it's been a very busy few days around here, and I just haven't managed to get a chapter together despite wanting to. I'm very sorry, and will definitely have one for tomorrow.

Thanks for your patience.

[FOTH]

The day passed in relative leisure for the little family in the cave, wind raging so outside that neither Einar nor Liz found themselves much inclined to try their footing on the steep descent, spin-drift creating near whiteout conditions even when the snow itself abated, and travel largely out of the question until the wind managed to subside, some.

Several times Liz took advantage of the smoldering fire---pleasant; just enough warmth for that small space—to cook up additional treats from the supplies Susan had left the, Einar having some of everything she prepared but doing so with caution, finally having admitted to himself that a good deal of the weakness and other troubles he’d been experiencing over the past several days could be directly traced to the insidious and sometimes dangerous sickness he had experienced several times in the past when his body struggled to adjust to eating a bit more, after extended periods of near-nothing. The trouble would pass, but only if he worked cautiously to find some balance until the adjustment was complete—enough to give him the energy he needed and keep him headed in the right direction, but not so much that his physical systems would find themselves unable to cope, and begin betraying him. Or finish doing it.

Late that morning and after having helped Liz finish their second warm snack of the day—not counting breakfast; what’s got into her?—Einar roused himself from a heavy and encroaching near-sleep, raised himself on a bony elbow.

“You know, we really do have to leave here sometime. No easy access to hunting, trapping or much of anything else here—even firewood. Once we’ve used up all the branches from that old dead pine, there’s no more easily available, not that I’ve seen, and the food from Bud and Susan won’t last forever…”

“No, and I’d hate to use it all up. The storm seems to be slowing a little. It seems a shame to leave this place, but you’re right that there isn’t much here for us. Are you wanting to head for the bottom of the canyon soon?”

Einar stretched, rose, squinted out at the whiteness beyond the cave mouth. “Not entirely sure that I want to, but think it’s about time. When the wind slows and we can see where we’re going, that is. Maybe this afternoon, and if not, first thing tomorrow morning. Need to get someplace where we can set up a bit more of a long term shelter, and this just isn’t it.”

“No, I guess it wouldn’t be much of a life, over here. But it does have the advantage of not being on the map. Those other places are on the map. What do you think the chances are that they may be places people come to explore…”

“Possible, of course. But as remote as they are, as far as this place is from any sort of road or even a Jeep track, I don’t think it’s too terribly likely, especially not this time of year. We’ll take a look when we get over there. Will be tracks to show us, of course, if anyone’s been there during the winter and once we get a look inside a cave or two, I’ll be able to tell you for sure. No matter how careful a fellow may be, he always leaves signs in a cave, marks of his passage. Makes an impact. I’ll be able to tell if anyone’s been in there, and roughly how many of them and how frequently, too. Then we can make our decisions.”

“Well. If we’re going tomorrow, I guess we’d better do it before too much of the day goes by. This camp worked out just fine, but I wouldn’t want to make a habit of getting ourselves stuck on narrow shelves halfway down cliff faces with night approaching, and having to search with our hands in the dark in the desperate hope of maybe finding some rock feature that will let us hang on for the night without being scoured off the rock by the wind…”

“Oh, it wasn’t as bad as all that! Not nearly.”

“It was worse. You just don’t remember. You nearly walked right past this cave, and probably would have kept going until you finally fell off the wall from sheer exhaustion, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe. Ok, first thing in the morning, it is. Should give us plenty of time to work our way to the bottom of the canyon even if things get complicated, and from there we can decide whether to camp for a night, or go ahead and make the climb, figure on camping in one of the caves when we reach them.”

Will, bored after a time with the monotony of eating, resting in the sleeping bag and watching the fire and tiring at long last of listening to the adults converse—a process which normally held endless fascination for him, and seeing the intensity in his eyes as he listened, seldom looking directly at either speaker but clearly focusing with undivided attention their words nonetheless, Einar wondered sometimes if the little one understood far more than he let on—he wriggled free of Liz’s grasp and set out at a gallop-crawl to investigate a particularly sparkly patch of white calcite near the back of their little grotto. Already out of the sleeping bag and not wanting the little one to journey too far into one of the tunnels at the back of the grotto, Einar followed. “What do you see there? Rocks really reflect the light of the fire, don’t they?”

Knowing he was about to be scooped up Will made a sudden change in direction, evading Einar’s grasp and heading straight for the fire. Stopping just short of the coals he stared in silent wonder at the living red-orange that danced and glowed in their centers, light reflecting on his face. “Fi. Fi!” He whispered and then shouted, holding out a little hand so that Liz was afraid he might be burned, but pulling it back in time. “Fi!”

“Did you hear that?” She exclaimed, swooping in and moving him back a few feet before he could again reach for the coals. “He said ‘fire!’”

“He said ‘fi.’”

“It’s close enough, for his first try! He meant ‘fire.’ He was looking straight at it. Your son is talking, Einar!”

“Well, it’s about time he said something, I guess. I can see him thinking every time he looks my way. Lot of stuff going on behind those big grey eyes of his. Wouldn’t be surprised if he understands every word we say, and has for a while, now. I could. I remember.”

“You remember things from when you were six month old?”

“Oh, maybe eight. Hard to say for sure. But around that time. I just know a person should never underestimate the capacity of these little critters to hear and understand. Because it aggravates the heck out of them, when you do. I remember that, too. Best to always take them real seriously.”

“I do take him seriously. Between you and Will, I’ve learned to take everything very seriously! But I may not mean that in exactly the way you do, so you’ll have to help me out now and then, as he gets older.”

“Oh, I don’t know anything about little humans, really. Except that they are little humans, with fully-formed if still-growing human minds, and ought to be treated that way.”

“Yes. And this little human is hungry at the moment—guess speaking must require a lot of energy—so I’d better take care of that. How about his father? Are you hungry too?”

“Sure!”

[gipsysmith]

Nice update. It sounds like he is starting to get his head on straight.

[FOTH]

Sept 17, 2013 11:26:50 GMT -6 gipsysmith said:

Nice update. It sounds like he is starting to get his head on straight.

Thanks. He's working on it.

________________________


Night, and Einar lay wide awake beside Liz as he tried to picture in minute detail the probable course their climb would take once they reached the canyon floor and began ascending again. From the rim, he had studied the possible avenues of approach, worked out in his mind which would provide the best cover, which seemed least likely to end in cliffs, trapping them before they reached the series of broken, sparsely timbered gulleys near the top, near the caves, and when he closed his eyes to shut out the still-dancing orange of the dying coals, he could still see that picture clearly as when he’d been looking right at it. Should go, if they were able to find the right course from the limited perspective they’d have at the bottom of the canyon, and stick to it. Needed a landmark, something they would be able to spot from the bottom. Would be sure and look for one in the morning before they went anywhere.

With which thought he probably should have let go and allowed himself to sleep in preparation for the exertions of the coming day, but something was bothering him. Tried to push it aside, think of other things, and for a while it worked, smiling as he remembered Liz’s efforts at getting Will to say another word, any other word, after his somewhat tenuous but unmistakable naming of fire, little one stubbornly refusing to try, his interest having moved on to other matters and Liz in her excitement doing enough talking for the three of them…

But then the memory faded, silence of the night pressing in all around him once again and there it was, the call of the snowy rock and timber outside, his need to answer it—to leave everything behind and spend a night alone in the elements with a length of nettle cordage, testing himself, repenting, in some small measure, for the ease, the luxury, the food and warmth he had allowed himself over that past day in the cave—nearly too strong to resist. Resist he did, though, turning to face the rock wall and forcing himself to keep still, to stay. Would need all the strength and stamina he could muster just to get himself, his gear and his family to the bottom of those cliffs the following day, and knew he had no business spending it all on simply getting himself through the night.

Liz, sensing his restlessness, woke and stirred up the fire, saw it in his eyes, the need, the struggle, recognized the thing she saw, silently pleading with him not to go—not tonight, not up here on this wild, windy cliff face; we’d never see you again—and not realizing that his decision had already been made. After a while she moved closer, held him, and he, though wanting desperately to be alone, allowed it, stillness of the night eventually creeping in, both of them sleeping.

With the coming of day the wind eased; inside, Einar could hear the change as he lay wide awake and trying not to shiver at Liz’s side, warmth of the coals gone and temperatures outside falling fast with the departure of the storm. Already, that past night before sleeping, they had largely made ready their gear, stowing everything as securely as possible in the drop bag and cinching it down tight against what both knew would likely be a difficult and at times complicated descent. Little remained to do beside make one final check of the place, stash the sleeping bag, secure Will in Liz’s parka hood and take their leave, but Einar was restless, pacing from back of the little grotto to cave mouth, crouching, staring out into the unfamiliar stillness that had fallen over cliff face and canyon, rising, returning to the back of the cave to stare again into the darkness of the tunnel beyond. No decision to make, really. They must leave, had settled it in their conversations the day before, and now was the time. No reason for the sense of uncertainty that had come over him. He was not staying behind. The tunnel was not an option for him. Had to lead his family off that cliff, and seek for them a new home amongst the broken rock, black timber and sheltering caves of the canyon’s other side, and for the last time he turned from the tunnel, blinking into the brightening, dazzling light of day and gently stirring Liz from her sleep.

“Better get going, if we want to have a full day of it. Got some breakfast ready for us, just some bars that Susan sent, but this seemed a good time for them.”

Liz was out of the bag and on her feet in seconds, crouching beside Einar as they shared their hurried breakfast, cold but satisfying, she immensely glad to see him finishing his portion and he striving to stay singly focused on the task before them. Bag would be the hard part, safely lowering it over the more vertical sections, preventing it pulling them off the wall; given time and proper equipment he could have rigged a system to assist with this, but equipment was in short supply, and time—well, the less time they spent out on that wall where they would, with the departure of the storm, be visible to any who might pass by, the better. Seemed about the best he could do was to make sure that he, and not Liz, was the one managing the bag, minimize her risk and Will’s, should something go wrong. These thoughts he did not share with Liz. He’d seen her previous unease with that narrow, snow-covered ledge, and did not want to do anything to increase it, before they set out. Soon—Lord willing—they would be on the canyon floor, laughing about their near-misses and planning the climb up to what would hopefully be more permanent shelter.

Time to go. Cave checked and rechecked, empty, good shelter from a storm which would surely have scoured them from the wall without its discovery, and they left with grateful hearts, Einar leading the way back along the ledge, looking, now that daylight was full and the snow no longer swirling, for a feature in the severe terrain of that wall which might allow them passage. They had not traveled long before he found it, what started as a mere brokenness in the rock quickly opening up into a good-sized cut in the wall, steep but not impassable, and studded here and there with stunted vegetation to give them some additional handholds, twisted frames of the tiny, tenacious subalpine fir and limber pine each older than the combined ages of the two adults in the party, if barely taller than the youngest.

No way they could have seen this route in the storm which had driven them to the cave, even smaller chance that they would have survived an attempted descent under those conditions, blinded by storm and already dangerously exhausted and chilled as they had been, but now, belaying Liz through a particularly steep and exposed section with a length of parachute cord, he gave thanks for the means of escape which had been provided them.

Though the descent was by no means easy for him, Einar did find himself feeling a good deal stronger than he remembered doing for some time, body starting to come back, a bit of the muscle tone and agility with which he had for so long been used to meeting the world, and though he knew he still had an awfully long way to go, things were beginning to look hopeful. Which, for reasons not wholly known to him, only increased his need to retreat off into the snowy woods, meet with the ropes and spend a night thus challenging himself. Half wished he didn’t need to it, but knew that he must, if he wished to stay in this world.

Which—Will loudly practicing his words on Liz’s back and Liz answering him with delight in her voice as the two of them came along behind him—he certainly did, and a successful descent being their first and most immediate priority, the rest of it could wait for some other time. Grinning, Einar plowed ahead through the snow, spruce scent sharp and life-giving in his nostrils, all the world seeming tremendously alive and full of promise around him.

Movement grew easier as they descended, gully opening up and the trees becoming more numerous, until after a time they found themselves walking with relative ease over a snowy boulder field, still steep, a struggle, especially for Einar, who was burdened with the bag, but definitely walking rather than climbing, and below them through the timber, the canyon floor was in sight.

[FOTH]

I'm heading out for a few days, and will be back with another chapter on Tuesday.

Hope you all have a good weekend, and thanks for reading!

[FOTH]

Here is where I have been, the last few days.

Will still work on having a chapter ready for this evening.

[mommasue]

Very pretty ! Though I am not ready for snow yet. Having agoraphobia, once the snow is here, I'm housebound.

[FOTH]

Sept 24, 2013 7:29:39 GMT -6 mommasue said:

Very pretty ! Though I am not ready for snow yet. Having agoraphobia, once the snow is here, I'm housebound.

Why? Are the woods full of people all winter, where you live?

I don't do crowds, either--which is one of the reasons I love winter. So long as I stay off of established ski trails, I pretty much have the mountains to myself, once the snow comes!

Is there someplace you could get out and snowshoe, ski or generally enjoy the snowy solitude? It would just be you, the chickadees and the elk/deer or whatever other wildlife you have, there!

[mommasue]

No, I have a fear of being on the roads in the winter. I do live at the top of a beautiful gully, that when I was young, I would follow it to the small waterfall at the head of it. But sadly, now I cant climb back out of it. It is too many miles for me to go the other way where it levels out some and joins an old logging road. But I do love to sit and watch the snow fall in the pines !

[FOTH]

Mommasue, I do hope you can find or make some way to get out and enjoy the winter, even if it's on foot rather than on the road.

The chapter will have to wait for tomorrow. Busier day today than I had expected. Sorry for the delay...

[FOTH]

Canyon floor wasn’t much to see, when finally they did reach it. In fact, they recognized the place as much by smell as by sight at first, sweet-sharp tang of the willows rising to meet them even before the slope finished leveling out. Then they were pushing their way through tangles of the stuff, willow interspersed with red osier dogwood to form thickets nearly impenetrable by creatures so large as themselves but not, Einar saw, entirely so, for there in the soft snow-mud beside the creek were a series of tracks too large to belong to any creature other than a female moose and her yearling young. Warily then he stood casting about for any sign of the beast, tracks fresh and country so closed-in and brushy down there that the pair could have been ten yards from them and they never would have seen a sign, but there was nothing, no crackle of willow or wet slurping of half frozen mud, and gradually Einar relaxed a bit, signaled to Liz that they could resume moving.

“Stay right behind me, here,” he spoke low and near her face. “Let’s be real careful about this until we’re sure she’s not nearby. Real fresh tracks.”

That moose, should they end up remaining long enough in the area to take advantage of its presence, offered the possibility of a bounty of meat to eat and preserve, but must in the meantime be treated with respect and caution, Einar not at all liking the idea of the angry mother charging Liz and Will as they wound their way through the dense thickets of willow and dogwood which so clogged the canyon floor.

The creek itself was barely running, a mere trickle between banks of brittle ice, but they could see from jumbled deposits of debris and mud two and three feet high on especially tight clumps of vegetation that it must is some seasons roar through the narrow canyon with a force fearsome to behold. Einar, seeing the sheerness of the walls surrounding them and their distance from any quick way up out of the canyon, found himself glad for the moment that it was winter.

Cold though, awfully cold, for though one might have expected the canyon walls to block some of the force of the wind, they seemed that day to be channeling and concentrating it, instead, so that the gusts howled and sang down through the willows with a force nearly sufficient to knock Einar from his feet, Liz leaning into it with one hand on the back of her neck in an attempt to keep the hood in place and shield Will from its bitter strength. All around, when those gusts came through, the supple and springy wetland vegetation bowed and danced before the hand of the wind, paths opening, little family passing through before momentarily they closed again behind them. This, Einar knew, they could not keep up. Not even in the better clothes left them by Bud and Susan, for the sheer force and power of those gusts was exhausting them, sending blinding skiffs of snow skyward and confusing their path.

Silent, struggling for air, Einar pushed himself to catch up with Liz, who had taken a turn at the front after the moose tracks had turned clearly away from their path. Hand on her arm, he waited until she stopped, spoke, leaning into the drop bag webbing to prevent himself being leveled by the wind.

“Caves can wait. Got to find some shelter. This is…” Lost his footing as another gust came through, taking him somewhat by surprise, had to spit out a mouthful of snow before he could speak again. “This isn’t getting any better. May not be able to find the right draw, one with the caves in it, anyway, with the snow blowing in our faces like this. What do you say…hunker down for the night if we can find some shelter.”

Liz, herself more worn out than she had realized from the long, taxing descent, nodded in silent agreement, took the webbing and helped him pull the bag, stopping to lift it over stubborn clumps of willow when they rose up to tangle the traces and halt progress. Shelter came in the form of a series of limestone boulders, castoffs, no doubt, from some long-fallen spur on the canyon wall, three of the rough, water-pitted remnants having fallen so close together as to form nearly a completely closed roof at the top, space inside quiet, still and nearly devoid of wind due to the position of the automobile-sized rocks and their proximity to the wall, itself.

While Einar worked on scraping an area more or less free of snow with his boots, Liz took tarp and foam sleeping pads from the drop bag, working to construct an expedient shelter to block out even more of the wind and insulate them from the cold ground. A long silence then as all caught their breath and Will had his first meal since the harrowing descent down the walls, Einar drifting towards sleep and Liz deciding it was time to eat. Already dusk was encroaching down in the canyon’s narrow depths, hours having passed in puzzling out the intricacies of their descent. Einar, rousing himself with more difficulty than he would have liked from his near-stupor, balanced himself against one of the rocks and went in search of dry branches to use for firewood while Liz scraped together a meal.

Einar’s mind was not on food as Liz heated water for a packet of freeze-dried chili over the fire, but on the thing which had haunted him during his wakeful hours the previous night and which now weighed with increasing heaviness on his mind as dusk cast its long shadows across the snow-encrusted evergreens visible far above on the canyon’s rim. Taking out the long coil of nettle cordage which stayed always with him in pocket or around his waist, he straightened it, tugging, testing, measuring its strength. Not greater, he could only hope, than his own. When Liz sat down beside him there was little need to speak to her his thoughts. She already knew.

“I know you’ve been needing to go. Could see it last night, and I’m glad you decided not to do it, then. Now I won’t try to stop you. But I would like to know—well, with Will and all, it seems reasonable that I should know your intentions…”

“Intentions? No different than ever, really.”

“It’s cold. You’re still—well, you know how you are. I don’t need to tell you. With that in mind, I want to know if you intend to come back to us.”

“Of course I do! I always do this so that I can come back to you. Stay with you. Besides, the cold would be…it’s far too gentle for me, too peaceful. Not the way I should go. If I was to go.”

“But you might anyway, if you’re not careful. Might not notice in time to make a choice, and turn back.”

“Oh, we’re old friends, the cold and I. Know how to talk to each other. I’ll come back.”

“Yes.”

And he went.