source.
Trees that had fallen across the trails had to be clambered over or squeezed under. It was strenuous going.
They snacked on berries along the way and stopped around noon to eat some of their fish.
At one point in the early afternoon, they emerged from the deep woods to an open patch of ground and startled a sleeping snake so it slithered away.
Two hours later, they stumbled upon a bear. It was a big black bear. A full-grown male. Fortunately, not a female with cubs to protect, but a black bear is a beast to be treated with respect.
The animal was happily munching on a patch of wild blackberries, reaching up on its hind legs to reach the big juicy ones high up.
If she’d been watching the berry feast on a documentary program, Claire would have been charmed. But the problem was, the big bear was blocking the path. She didn’t think pushing past him and saying “excuse me” was going to work.
Going back the way they’d come was futile.
In the end, they simply waited. He showed no interest in them. He wanted his berries.
For more than an hour they waited while the bear munched his food and the mosquitoes and the odd bee buzzed. At least they could rest from their relentless walking, but they had no idea when he’d stop eating. And even then, what would they do if he turned their way?
Finally, the bear dropped back to his four paws, swung his head their way for a heart-stopping ten seconds and then ambled away in the opposite direction. They heard crashing of undergrowth and waited five more minutes before venturing along the same path.
“At least he left a few for us,” Max said cheerfully as he popped a plump blackberry into her mouth. It was warm from the sun and bursting with flavor.
She was tired, her feet hurt, she itched all over from mosquito bites, and worry that some catastrophe would befall them before they reached the logging road plagued her. But Max had a way of making things seem better than they were. So, she munched her berry and was thankful for the burst of sweetness on her tongue.
* * *
B Y LATE AFTERNOON , she felt as though she couldn’t walk one more step.
Max never asked her how she felt.
He didn’t offer her sympathy or urge her on.
Instead, he told her stories.
Stories about his childhood. Silly pranks he and his sister had played on each other. Stories about him and his two best friends, Dylan and Adam.
“We did everything together. Little League, Boy Scouts, team sports when we got older.
“We still play hockey together,” he said. “You’ll have to meet them one of these days.”
“I’d like to.” She wondered if word had leaked out that they were missing. If his friends knew. But Max didn’t bring that up.
He told her about his friend Adam. “Adam has the first birthday out of the three of us. When he turned thirty-five, his parents threw a party for him. And June, his mom, surprised the hell out of him when she showed a video of his fifth birthday.” He grinned at the memory, whacking some low-growing branches out of the way so they could pass, as though his sturdy stick was a machete. It was exhausting work but he didn’t seem to notice.
“She asked the three of us what we were going to be when we grew up. The amazing thing is, we all ended up doing what we said we would.” He whacked another patch of heavy green. “Or pretty close, anyway.”
They were aiming for a river tributary that would cross their path. That, she calculated, would be close to halfway to the road.
“Then she asked us who we were going to marry.” A dark line of sweat down his back was the only evidence he was putting any effort into this hike. “We were five. But we all had answers. Adam was going to marry Princess Diana. Remember, this was 1983. And Dylan planned to marry Xena, the comic book character.” He shook his head. “Boys. Knowing Dylan he still wants to marry Xena.”
“How about you?”
“I was always more sensible than the others. I said I wasn’t
Trees that had fallen across the trails had to be clambered over or squeezed under. It was strenuous going.
They snacked on berries along the way and stopped around noon to eat some of their fish.
At one point in the early afternoon, they emerged from the deep woods to an open patch of ground and startled a sleeping snake so it slithered away.
Two hours later, they stumbled upon a bear. It was a big black bear. A full-grown male. Fortunately, not a female with cubs to protect, but a black bear is a beast to be treated with respect.
The animal was happily munching on a patch of wild blackberries, reaching up on its hind legs to reach the big juicy ones high up.
If she’d been watching the berry feast on a documentary program, Claire would have been charmed. But the problem was, the big bear was blocking the path. She didn’t think pushing past him and saying “excuse me” was going to work.
Going back the way they’d come was futile.
In the end, they simply waited. He showed no interest in them. He wanted his berries.
For more than an hour they waited while the bear munched his food and the mosquitoes and the odd bee buzzed. At least they could rest from their relentless walking, but they had no idea when he’d stop eating. And even then, what would they do if he turned their way?
Finally, the bear dropped back to his four paws, swung his head their way for a heart-stopping ten seconds and then ambled away in the opposite direction. They heard crashing of undergrowth and waited five more minutes before venturing along the same path.
“At least he left a few for us,” Max said cheerfully as he popped a plump blackberry into her mouth. It was warm from the sun and bursting with flavor.
She was tired, her feet hurt, she itched all over from mosquito bites, and worry that some catastrophe would befall them before they reached the logging road plagued her. But Max had a way of making things seem better than they were. So, she munched her berry and was thankful for the burst of sweetness on her tongue.
* * *
B Y LATE AFTERNOON , she felt as though she couldn’t walk one more step.
Max never asked her how she felt.
He didn’t offer her sympathy or urge her on.
Instead, he told her stories.
Stories about his childhood. Silly pranks he and his sister had played on each other. Stories about him and his two best friends, Dylan and Adam.
“We did everything together. Little League, Boy Scouts, team sports when we got older.
“We still play hockey together,” he said. “You’ll have to meet them one of these days.”
“I’d like to.” She wondered if word had leaked out that they were missing. If his friends knew. But Max didn’t bring that up.
He told her about his friend Adam. “Adam has the first birthday out of the three of us. When he turned thirty-five, his parents threw a party for him. And June, his mom, surprised the hell out of him when she showed a video of his fifth birthday.” He grinned at the memory, whacking some low-growing branches out of the way so they could pass, as though his sturdy stick was a machete. It was exhausting work but he didn’t seem to notice.
“She asked the three of us what we were going to be when we grew up. The amazing thing is, we all ended up doing what we said we would.” He whacked another patch of heavy green. “Or pretty close, anyway.”
They were aiming for a river tributary that would cross their path. That, she calculated, would be close to halfway to the road.
“Then she asked us who we were going to marry.” A dark line of sweat down his back was the only evidence he was putting any effort into this hike. “We were five. But we all had answers. Adam was going to marry Princess Diana. Remember, this was 1983. And Dylan planned to marry Xena, the comic book character.” He shook his head. “Boys. Knowing Dylan he still wants to marry Xena.”
“How about you?”
“I was always more sensible than the others. I said I wasn’t
Similar Books
