The Beginning Ending
The sun had bleached the sky to a hazy, white glare. A permanent sheen of sweat glued my shirt to my skin, a second skin of damp discomfort. It had been days since I'd known the feeling of dry clothes, the constant dampness making it seem as though I'd wet my pants. Every breath was a sip of fire, and with no wind, the air was a thick, woolen blanket, smothering and still. Sitting; walking; lying down; it doesn’t matter, nothing feels cool. The fans I use are useless; even in the river, you sweat. I can smell the sour stench of body odor that I can’t hide. None of it is embarrassing, to anyone.
The ground is so dry; the vegetable gardens are dead, and the harvest is lost this year. My plow won’t even cut a row. The horse is as drenched as I am, its coat dark with moisture. The air shimmered above the baked earth, and I couldn't think clearly in the oppressive stillness. Salty sweat stung my eyes, blurring the already wavering landscape into a mirage of heat and dust. When I wipe my face, I can feel the sandy grit cut into my skin.
But there is one place where I can escape: the thick, deep forest after the plains at the foothills of Maze Mountain. The mountain is known to be alive and not many will even enter the forest. Stepping in the darkness of the wood, I hear a man could disappear in less than a minute. This forest has swallowed many men. It is there that I can build a shelter, hunt for food, and survive until this passes. Perhaps there is a cool spring in the forest where I can soak to remove some of the cutting sand, and rest comfortably. I’ll pack in the morning.
The night was sweltering, and the morning brought no relief, but I had to start moving. As I slid my feet off the bed, the sand between my sheets and skin created a burning friction. As my feet touched the floor, I felt the grit again. It was everywhere. I’m up now.
There were things I had to collect before I started my trip; things for survival and protection, and as I began gathering them, the collecting became overwhelming because the things I believed I needed were too many. I had to stop and consider what I really needed for the while I would be gone. My list had to be purged of the extraneous.
In the mountain forest I didn’t need the comforts of home. Thinking about what was paramount, I determined there were four basic needs; shelter, water or access to it, fire, and food. Now, the question was, what do I use to fill those requirements? Taking a tent would be beneficial, but the tent was made of canvas and was too bulky and heavy. Alternatives would be imperative. I had to think light-weight and durable, simultaneously. I found my old backpack at the bottom of my closet; brushed it off, and laid it on my bed.
As I looked around, I saw this haze in the dimly lit bedroom which was the resuspension of particles on everything, as well as the floor. It reminded me of the folks that lived in the Dust Bowl that couldn’t close their houses up tight enough to keep the sand and dust from coming in the house. Everything in my home had minute dust particles sleeping on it and when I moved, walked, or passed by something, they awoke and flew speedily into the air, lofting for extended time, relocating throughout the house. This sometimes made me sneeze, cough, or both. It was annoying. If only there were a little humidity, it wouldn’t be so bad. After a round of sneezing, I sat down to think for a few minutes.
I had a tarp that I could use as a make-shift shelter. I finally found it outside under some old dusty boxes in the garage, slapped the dust off of it, then took it in the house and placed it at the bottom of my pack. Not wanting to sleep on the ground, I found a piece of plastic large enough to lay my sleeping bag on. I could also use it as a poncho should it rain. I knew once I was there, I had to build an off the ground bedframe, so I needed a knife, hatchet, and binder’s twine. Later, I could cut wood and bind it with the twine for a better shelter, depending on how long I remained.
There were so many things I learned while growing up that I believed I would do well by myself, alone in the Maze Mountain forest. I knew the night skies and where to locate Polaris; the large vines limbering up and then down to the ground from the tall trees held water; there are edible plants I knew; sand could be used as a filter; how to make a fire with a bow; how to tie binding knots; how to fish using a spear; how to make a sling weapon; how to cook; how to use pine straw and leaves as an insulator, and so much more. I’m sure I will be challenged and hopefully I can overcome. I just have to keep a clear head and be able to think.
I only wish and hope the childhood stories aren’t real; that there weren’t unknowns living there like the Boshuns; missing villagers that reappeared; strange carnivorous animals with six feet didn’t quietly sneak up to my living quarters tempted to eat me; bats as large as humans, and that the forest trees didn’t rearrange themselves at night and weren’t really alive. Could it all be myth or legend? I’ll only know once I’m there, but there is a fear inside me that wants to believe it’s all true. When I think about it, my heart begins to race. I have to stop it.
I packed my eating, drinking, and cooking utensils, and threw in my water purification tablets just in case. I know there are flowing streams, at least when the snow melts, because you can see the alluvial fans on the mountainside. Maybe there’s a lake, or deep, clear water holes with fish I can catch. Thinking that, I threw a collapsible fishing rod in the pack along with a compass, small magnifying glass and mirror. The air I breathed in was a current of heat, offering no relief. Totally miserable.
I have to think about my safety and what I would do if I hurt myself; a knife wound, hatchet cut, an animal attack, broken bone, or a fall? I probably needed to include something of a first aid kit with ointments. In the backpack went my first aid accessories. I also included a small jar of Vaseline and handful of cotton swabs.
In the past year, I had made the absolute best venison jerky ever and I included it in my traveling pack. Once I attach my 50’ climbing rope and sleeping bag to my backpack, I should be ready for the trek to Maze Mountain. Just because the mountain looked close didn’t necessarily mean it was. I knew it would take at least a day to arrive at the foothills, and then begin the ascent into the forest. My hand slipped on the smooth dogwood of my walking stick, and I tightened my grip, the slickness of my own sweat a constant, frustrating companion. I walked outside, and closed and locked the door. I turned toward Maze Mountain and gazed at its majestic height and purple-green color. It was crowned with bright white clouds. I took another deep breath of hot air, took the two steps down to the hard dusty ground off the porch, and began walking. I lived at the edge of town so I didn’t have to say hellos or goodbyes to anyone. I had no family; it was just me.
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