Leaving Sherwood - A Fickle Universe Time Travel Companion

Chapter Five

Will didn't know if they were making good time or not.

Since they didn't have a destination, it was hard to judge, and the force driving them on was relentless. Every day they both agreed they felt closer to their stopping place, and once, when they took a wrong turn on one of the many forest roads, they didn't get more than a hundred yards before they knew they needed to turn back.

He figured they were making about five miles each day. His instincts told him once upon a time he could have done twice or even four times that much, but they had entered mountainous territory on their second day, and they both felt how far they were from full recovery with every climb. Add to that their need to supplement their supplies with food foraged along the way, and five miles became a respectable distance.

On their third day, they began to find backcountry campsites, with fire rings and signs of other hikers. They even slipped past a pair of hikers setting up camp one night and listened from the trees to them arguing about where to set up their tent, whether the fire ring was too close to the stream, and where they could legally dig their cat-hole.

After that, Will decided it was safe to light fires to cook the food they foraged. He was able to tickle a trout out of a stream, but Paul was better at it, and fish became a staple of their diet, supplemented by soups made with the new shoots of plants coming up from their winter sleep. He recognized and could name blackberry and wild raspberry, and when he spotted new leaves on plants he recognized as lily, he dug up the bulbs and added them to their stew.

Once they came across a nut tree and gathered a handful of nuts from the fall that were still edible. Wild roses provided rose hips that still clung to their branches, and he found new growths of mint, nettle, dandelion and watercress, which they ate variously as green salads, or brewed as tea.

There was much more they might have tried, but Will couldn't place all the plant life they saw and didn't want to risk eating anything poisonous until he felt safe enough to test them in small amounts. As tempting as the plentiful mushrooms were, he knew better than to try them without consulting someone local to the area. He and Paul both seemed to have intuitive skills when it came to cleaning fish and cooking over an open fire. He had taken to fashioning a snare out of his boot laces each night when they stopped, and four mornings they broke their fast on squirrel and rabbit.

The farther they got from Suttle Lake, the more comfortable Will felt about passing other hikers. For the first three days, any time they heard other hikers they slipped off the trail and hid in the undergrowth until the path was empty again. After that they stayed on the edge of the trail as hikers passed them with only courteous nods or warm hellos. Some gave them curious glances, and Will realized how much less gear he and Paul had compared to the other hikers. Where Will carried everything they possessed in a single duffle bag, the others had elaborate packs and hiking poles.

On the sixth night, as they built their fire and prepared to sleep, a gregarious young man joined them. He introduced himself as Dave and exclaimed about their lack of a tent and sleeping bags. He assumed they were survivalists on a training mission, and Will did not correct him, even though he didn't know exactly what that meant.

He didn't need to worry about Dave's curiosity, because while the man asked many questions, he was just as quick to answer them with his own theories, and Will only needed to nod or shake his head to incite another round of speculations.

While Dave's prattle was mildly annoying, it was also informative.

"This is my first time hiking the Santiam Wagon Road trail from end to end," Dave said. "I parked my car at the Mountain House trailhead, ten miles away. I'm training to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, and I thought this would be a great first training hike of the year."