Of Hooves and History

Moving In with a Friend

The sound of the ocean waves just a few meters away was the icing on the alarm clock cake for my consciousness to arise from its deep slumber. I sat up and hummed a little tune as I made a small breakfast of oatmeal with a banana and some sugar cubes. Given Sunny's offer, I knew it'd be time to pack up for a long time away from the sub.

In all the excitement of examining the artifacts, the tools had been forgotten. I gathered up the multi-tool kit for my bicycle and skateboard, along with my clothes suitcase and GoPro kit. I added another mooring line to the sub to secure it further, then proceeded to climb the cliff for one last time... or so I hoped.

Dismantling the campsite, I took everything and packed it into my bike backpack – iPad, GoPro kit, microscope kit, toolkit, water bottle, two small towels, a sleeping bag, a smaller sling bag, the food, and the three artifacts. Then I slid the tent into the duffel bag and tied it to the backpack. The skateboard was tied to the nike's top tube and handlebars, and suitcase to the rear forks. Finally I set off through the forest. It wasn't the most practical approach, but I did not want to have to return a second time.

I did pay the price, though. Five times my balance was harshly thrown off and I fell, and there were more cases of the suitcase bouncing so hard it flipped than there were birds in the trees. By the time I reached the top of the first hill the suitcase looked like it'd been used as a training bag for boxers plus as a survival unit for soldiers in a Floridian marsh. But it wasn't punctured or torn, so I kept on going.

Once again, sounds and reactions filled the atmosphere upon my entry in Maretime Bay. However, this time they were of surprise and awe, rather than fear and panic. No mass screaming and running. I waved and said hello to every pony, thereby easing their concerns and worries. It was surprising how their behavior had changed – not substantially, but that the change in perspectives both ways was noticeable.

Riding through town was much easier. With the smoother stone and concrete ground, I didn't have to pedal as hard. Pulling the suitcase behind me suddenly felt less cumbersome, but still awkward with all the clattering noise it made. Everyone kindly stepped aside to make room as I made my way through the streets.

Thirty-five minutes after packing up, I finally reached Sunny's home – the local lighthouse, perched on a taller cliff point, almost a kilometer from the main town. With its red-and-white striped tower, it looked to be a dead ringer for the one on Halifax's Sambro Island – but with the tower being round and centrally positioned in the actual house, along with the square-sloped roof, the similarities all but ended there.

"Wow," I whispered, gazing back in awe at the town that I'd just passed through. "What a view!"

The smoothly sloping and banking road leading back to the town also looked cool. Maybe later we can try racing down it to the town, I thought, giving a few knocks on the door.

The door opened slowly, and a familiar face appeared, looking a little stunned. "How'd you know where I live?"

"It's easier to ask than assume," I smirked.

Sunny smiled welcomingly. "Come on in."

I wheeled the mountain bike and suitcase in and propped them against the wall next to the coatrack, before taking of my backpack and duffel. Hurriedly, I wiped them down with a paper towel and some water from my bottle. The house was spotless, and I didn't want to sabotage that in any way. It was an open-spaced floor, with central pillars supporting the tower above. Off to the right was a nice kitchen, not unlike the one at my boathouse in Florida.

"You look tired," Sunny noted, gesturing to the sofa in the living room. "Have a seat."

"Thanks very much," I replied, catching my breath and dropping the paper towel into a nearby trash bin. "Lovely lighthouse you got here. Everything's well-placed and clean."