The Road by James Gerard (ink ebook reader .TXT) 📕

A couple of weeks had passed since Jerry’s journey through the mysterious road.  Mesmerized by the road’s idyllic setting, the mind would not release the intrigue.  The thoughts were preoccupied with the discovery or the raw wilderness untouched by the hand of man.  The scene was splendid in its beauty and one never witnessed before in his young life.  Longing to know much more about the spot and intrigued about what lay beyond the isolated setting, Jerry played around with the idea of a further adventure.  The calling of such an exploration was haunting.  While the season allowed, he knew he could not let the opportunity pass.  It spoke with a sweat and harmonic invitation that reached his very soul.  A river nymph who called out to come to her just one more  time to forever become one with the tantalizing beauty.  He decided that a camping trip along her banks was the only way to satisfy the unquenchable desire to visit the beauty one final time.

Having grown up in a coastal town just off the Pacific Ocean, Jerry was no stranger to water.  He was more than familiar with the seashore and how it endlessly stretched beyond his earthly vision.  Unlike his newfound beauty, the coast was much more expansive and abounded with wide beaches covered with beds of graying white sand.  In the summertime, the memory of warming up quickly after coming out of the cool ocean waves and letting his feet sink into the sand’s heavenly warmth was a cherished nugget in the mind.

Also, unlike the newfound beauty, were the straight runs along the strip of sand impacted by the water originating from tall and mighty waves.  He smiled while thinking of the juvenile game of dodging the gentle sheet of water reaching as far onto the beach as possible before retreating meekly back into the ocean depths.   Awe inspiring thoughts popped in the mind as the vision of rolling waves moved effortlessly towards the shore, crested and curled, then came crashing thunderously into a mixture of spray and foam and sand and turbulent water.  But as far as river itself, the Yukon presented an equal phenomenon not in size but the impact on the heart.

As far as Jerry knew and remembered there was only one river where he grew up.   But with memories reaching back in time, thoughts of that river were rather pathetic.  He knew its headwaters were somewhere in the mountains miles and miles away and the water made it ways down to the shore through etched out channels at the base of foothills and through valleys formed long ago.  He figured at one time it may have been a formidable sight, but reasoned the hand of man had tamed it to the point where it became a mere trickle of its former self.  Now, with the Yukon capturing and holding captive his heart, the river back home was like a drip of water in a bucket compared to the sheer depthless bottom of the mighty Yukon.

The adventure was a go.  The only problem was he had never been on a camping trip outside the one time during his year as a cub scout.  How to go about the camping trip raised a lot of questions.  Nevertheless, common sense was tapped in to and he looked around his room.

Remembering the mess kit and canteen he was issued while at basic training, he marched over to a drawer where it had been stowed and forgotten.  Looking through the mess kit’s contents it contained eating utensils, a small metal cup, and a plate that that doubled as a lid.  It also functioned as a small pot which would be perfect for heating the packaged tins of meats he had pilfered from a case of outdated C-rations.  The problem of food solved, the attention was turned to bedding.

“Why didn’t I join the Army,” he whispered while contemplating the lack of a sleeping bag, and for that matter, a large and sturdy backpack equipped to carry all the essentials of life for battlefield survival.  All that were available where the blankets and sheets provided by the station.  A shrug of the shoulders signaled they would have to do.

A change of clothes came to mind but the logic of such was questioned.  He laughed aloud after musing over the thought of being away from everyone; why should I care if I stink?  But he did find it logical to bring the parka issued to him on arrival to the isolated station just in case it became terribly cold.

Wondering what to use to carry what he was bringing along, he had not a clue.  Once again Jerry considered the backpack to be essential for the men and women of the marines and army to roam for days and weeks and months through any battlefield terrain.  “But for an airman to…” he questioned, “…to roam an airbase?”  Jerry found the thought to be ridiculous.  “But what was issued,” he happily considered, “was a common necessity for any service personnel regardless of their mode or branch of service.  The one common gear that was the tough and expansive for the job.” He smiled while spotting it sitting in a corner of the closet.  ”The big green duffle bag.”

The physical needs taken care of, Jerry then turned the attention to just how dangerous the adventure could be, but “ahh,” he scoffed.  Warnings of such danger had been eliminated by his experience in spite of the adamant advice of the staff sergeant.  Jerry figured no matter what, everything would go without a hitch.

*                    *                    *

With a couple of days off, Jerry woke early in the morning eager to begin the adventure.  Stepping outside he saw the bright blue sky with the sun, despite its position low on the horizon, lighting up the day.  Not a cloud could be seen.  He knew the day was the perfect companion for the adventure.  With the duffle bag’s straps hooked over the shoulders he set out towards the road.

As Jerry approached the entrance, trepidation was non-existent.  He knew he was walking to a source of life, not death.  The senses became alive as he hiked through the serene setting.  Ears again detected the friendly caws of the ravens along the way.  The nose took in a mild, musty breath of the fallen leaves returning their vital nutrients to the forest floor.  The eyes beheld the majestic trees standing bare and mighty, acting as personal protective giants guarding the idle stroll up the path.

Before Jerry knew it the light ahead came into focus.  With excitement rushing him forward he stepped into the light.  In an instant the excitement was renewed.  There she was.  The beauty before him brilliantly sparkled.  He stood there for a moment listening to the river nymph’s sweet voice carried by the gentle breeze.  With eyes closed.  He inhaled deeply enjoying the crisp, fresh air and the utter solitude.

Leaving behind the safe confines of the station and the nearby village, the leisurely stroll up the river began with a step along its receding and stony shoreline.

Jerry realized, truly realized, that in the absence of trash cluttering up the shoreline and shimmering splotches of oil slicks, he was physically separated from society for the first time in his life.  He pondered why worry and fear had failed to show, but believed the surrounding peace and tranquility provided the mind with a strength that conquered such weak, emotional responses.   Even as signs of the predators, the impressions of paws set deep in the soft sand began to appear, the thoughts stood strong.  Jerry was unwavering in his belief that all would be well.

The thoughts lost amidst the solitude Jerry strolled up the river’s bank.  The shoreline further led him away from the safety of civilization.  The path, unfortunately, came to an abrupt halt.  A tributary which spanned some thirty feet across blocked the way.   Standing above the water, he looked down at the slow flowing tributary.  Jerry suspected that its depth was shallow.  An attempt to wade through the obstacle proved unwise, for the first step into the murky water took hold of the boot.  As the boot sank deeper into the mud he struggled to break free from the suctioning grip below.  After a few seconds the mud gave in and released its trap.

He looked into the woods and wondered if there was another spot at which to try and cross the tributary, but the trunks of countless trees and fallen limbs and branches impeded the path.  For a moment he entertained stepping through the water at the river’s edge but the idea quickly disappeared.  The thought of just one wrong step and he might be trapped by the depths of the sodden earth.  But maybe, he thought, it was the river nymph’s way of saying stop, rest, and behold the beauty from the vantage point she had provided.  That was good enough for Jerry.

The first thing to do, Jerry thought, was to set up a camp.  As he walked down the path eyes searched out a relatively flat spot to set up the makeshift bed.  He considered going into the woods a little bit to hold off the wind if it were to stir up, but looking at the dense forest there was no open spaces for which to accommodate the needed space.   He decided right where he stood was good enough.

Dropping the duffle bag onto the bed of sand, he suddenly had an idea.  “What is it called?” he whispered aloud.  “A one sided…sided wall…ah ha!   A lean-to I think it is called.”  Although the picture of the structure was clearly seen in the imagination, the lack of a mechanical mind on how to construct the wind-breaking device was elusive.   Nonetheless, logic reared up and spoke.

A stroll over to the edge of the woods proved to be wise.   Long pieces of broken tree limbs and branches were abundant.  Gathering as many as he could carry he walked back to the duffle bag and tossed the construction materials to the ground.  A quick estimation of the supply prompted a need for more.   Hauling back another load, he laid them out in a row and sized them up.   Taking one the two sturdiest, shortest ones, hands tried to stab it into the ground but while the top layer of sand was forgiving, the hard shell of the earth underneath was not.

“A rock,” he thought aloud, “I need a rock.”

A quick survey the path brought forth just the need tool.  Lying atop the sand was a good sized rock to hammer the limb into the ground.  The limb, although short yet strong, was no match for the pounding of the rock gripped firmly by both hands.  The end easily pierced the underlying layer of impacted sand.  Checking the direction of the wind with a wet thumb held up into the air, Jerry positioned the next limb accordingly and about seven feet away.  Repositioning the limbs at a slight angle, he then looked to the dead limbs and branches lying in the sand and began to stack them one on top of another until they reached the top.  Stepping back he viewed the makeshift shelter and figured the one side was good enough to block the wind sweeping off the river.  The thought of the required fire pit then came to mind.   However, there was plenty of time left in the day to build the needed flame so he decided to wait until it was a bit darker and colder.

With waves of relaxation rolling off the river and immersing him in thoughts of sweet slumber, the makeshift bed was quickly made.  Lying down the feeling was of a peace he had never known.  The sound of the wind whistling through the trees and the