Tales From the Outposts, Vol. 1 - Travels in the Forbidden Lands

On the Road Again

Even though the old man and I were up at sunrise, it was mid-morning by the time we were ready to depart. After everything was arranged, the old man pulled a length of red cloth from under his bed, walked outside to the flagpole and hoisted it into the air. The red banner snapped in the breeze, its wrinkles and folds soon flattening out as the breeze stiffened the cloth. Just as we had finished breakfast, the Vulture and Skua swooped in to see if we were ready. The four of us set off toward the interior, with very little being said. I could see Skua and the Vulture keeping a surreptitious eye on each other, as if neither fully trusted his traveling companion.

We journeyed the rest of the morning through a lush tropical forest, the ground gently sloping upward as we left the beach behind. We were following an old concrete path that the jungle was rapidly encroaching on. More than once we had to either hack our way through the dense undergrowth or detour around the plants that had erupted out of the old pavement, causing a blockage. Around noon we stopped for a light meal in a small clearing. The old man emptied the pack he had been carrying while I cleared a small patch of ground and got a fire going. Soon, we had a hot meal prepared and proceeded to stuff ourselves while we talked and relaxed in the warm sunshine. Again, the old man was generous with his jug, making sure everyone had enough to drink and that contributed to the conviviality of the meal. After we had packed up the dishes and put out the fire, the old man shook my hand.

"Good luck, son," he said with a wink.

"You're not coming with us?" I gaped at him. The thought of not having the old man next to me after so many months together thoroughly unsettled me. "Nah," he said stretching, "I got things to do here, besides, this is as far as I can go. The trail ends here and it's up to these two to be your guides. You'll be in good hands, though, with these two and besides, somebody has to stay here to clear the path back to the cabin and await the next person who comes along."

I was suddenly sad at the thought of what was going to happen to the old man and had to swallow hard to get the words out. "Who's going to play cribbage with you? It won't be much fun without a partner, you know."

He laughed and clapped me on the back. "I think I'll give it up for a little while. I've got a hankerin' all of sudden for Scrabble. And that's a whole lot easier to play when you're by yourself."

He shook my hand again and without a backward glance, the old man started walking back toward the beach. I turned back to face Skua and the Vulture; the Vulture politely gestured me to lead. I shouldered my pack and stepped to the front as we continued through the jungle. The going was a little rougher now, there was no path in front of us and the rising ground ahead of us much steeper and rockier than it had been and the trees and vines grew closer together, forcing us to detour more often. Gradually the forest thinned out, the lush, dense trees and choking vines giving way to smaller, hardier trees and shrubs that were better suited for the thin, rocky soil. Even though the vegetation had thinned, several places turned out to be impossible to hike through because the path had been washed out by torrential rains or blocked by piles of rock that had fallen in the past. When we came upon these ruined pieces of land, we were forced to detour around them and resume our journey.

We worked our way higher into the rocks and boulders, our progress now more horizontal than vertical. Still, we worked our way steadily uphill. It didn't seem like we were making very much progress until I looked down at where we had come from and realized the heights we had climbed to. Late afternoon brought us to the edge of the tree line, and what little grass and shrubs we had encountered became fewer, poorer and closer to the ground. The earth was now more rock than soil, with only the hardiest of plant life surviving here. Many of the plants had exposed roots that only emphasized the grip the plants insisted on maintaining on life. Looking back, I could see the little shack at the edge of the brilliant white beach, the red flag fully extended in the wind and white caps in the bay, headed toward shore. The crystal water of the bay was a brilliant blue-green, contrasting sharply with the deeper blue of the ocean beyond.