6 Miles With Courage (13 page)

It had all the appearance of a
dead-end
. A massive vine covered earthen wall that ascended upward like steps leading to an ancient Mayan temple.

Ryan approached it
cautiously more out of disbelief than fear.

“What the he
ck?” he said.

As far as he could see to the right and left was this earthen damn rising up out of the swamp, draped in vines. He took out his compass to verify the direction he had to travel and sure enough it was straight ahead.

He quickly marched along the toe of the berm to the left for several hundred feet looking for a passage but it was not to be. He repeated this to the right with the same result and upon returning to where he first encountered the obstacle he sat down on a log to assess the situation.

What Ryan encountered was normal for a river basin but it was something his father had not prepared him for. What
’s in front of him is known as the “transitional” lands.

Like any basin or bowl for that matter there is a bottom and a top.
If you were to put two fingers in your cereal bowl (like a man standing) and then walk the little man to the top of the bowl you would have to go up the side to get to the top.

The bottom of the bowl is the swamp, the side of the bowl is the transitional land and the top of the bowl is the upland
. It’s that simple, and just like the bowl, that’s how it is in nature. Sometimes the transitional lands are long and flat and sometimes they are short and steep, but always there is a
transition
to higher ground.

This transition was six hundred feet long and one hundred feet high. It did not rise on a straight incline but rather it was terraced
into three steps, each terrace having a length of two hundred feet. The terraces were each separated by berms of fallen trees and soil twenty-feet in height. Ryan knows nothing of the length or height of the transitional lands. All that he could see was the first wall of soil behind a curtain of vines.

The transitional lands have an eco-system all their own. It is a tortured landscape frequently flooded on the lower terraces
, and subject to severe storm water run-off in the upper regions. It is home to unforgiving vegetation such as
cat-claw
and
tie-tie
vines, as well as brier bushes. This is vegetation that can rip the meat off of your bones if you’re not careful. These and other types of vegetation try to form a barrier against the elements, struggling to hold the soil together in an erosive environment.

Wildlife from
both above and below like to call this area home as the cascading landscape makes for many-a-place to borrow a den in the eroding soil, in and around the many fallen trees. Strangers are seldom seen here making it an ideal place for the creatures of the swamp and of the uplands to harbor their young, all the more reason why Ryan is not welcome here.

But welcome or not
, it is a place that Ryan must cross if he is to get the attention of the forest ranger. It will prove to be the greatest test of his courage yet. 

Ryan st
ood up from the log and surged forward into the curtain of vines. He parted them with the bayonet and turning sideways he attempted to step through. But the thorns of the cat-claw vine sunk deep into his flesh.

“
Ah!” Ryan screamed in agony.

He had not encountered thorny bushes or vines since leaving the wreckage. He spun around in an attempt to free himself and in doing so broke the
thorns off the vine leaving them embedded in his arms and shoulders. He sat down against the berm and immediately began pulling out the hooked thorns one-by-one. The thorns are
exactly
like a cat’s claw. They are thin, translucent and curved. They have a tendency to break off the vine easily.

Ryan pulled the thorns out
. Blood trickled down his arms. With only a few steps back to the swamp he splashed some cool water on his wounds. It stung. A few washings and the bleeding began to slow. He stepped back through the curtain of vines very cautiously this time.

He st
ood at the foot of the embankment. He figured out that by leaning forward, he could take hold of the many small trees and work his way up. It was twenty-feet high but it was by no-means a vertical climb. There were a lot of small holes burrowed into the soil. Most were at the base of the trees growing out of the earthen wall. Using the trees for his hands and the holes for his feet Ryan began his ascent.

It was
a lot like climbing the rock wall at the shopping mall when he was just a boy. Grab something and put your foot here, grab something else put your foot there. It took some thinking but you didn’t have to go straight up. He moved a little left and then up. He moved a little right and then up again and before long he was past the halfway point of the first mound.

Looking up
he didn’t notice that the holes were burrows for various rodents and reptiles. It wasn’t until he looked down to see how high he was that he first saw the mice and rats as they scurried to see the
giant
that had just stuck his foot through their front door!

They emerged like ants
“boiling” out of a mound as they tried to find the disturbance. They ran to-and-fro stopping only to sniff each other, and the air, in their quest to find the intruder. Their squeaks must have gotten the word out to the rats and mice above because only a few moments had past when suddenly they started to emerge also, and then they came out from the holes where his feet
and hands were!

“Ugh!” he screamed loudly shaking his legs a
s he flung them off his arms. He looked down! He looked up! It was one way or the other but it was
go time!

He kept his wits about him
, and in an amazing show of courage he propelled up the face of the embankment parting the mice as he went. For the most part they got out of his way except for an occasion rodent that just happened to emerge onto his boot or run up his arm.

He crested the top of the
ridge with a couple of rodents in tow as he was yelling and slapping himself like a man gone berserk. They quickly ran down to the safety of their burrows. Ryan dusted himself off as life on the berm returned to normal.

“
Oh, how I hate mice and rats!” Ryan said as he looked over the edge shuddering.

As the land transition
s so do the trees, and the tree canopy that has been over Ryan’s head since the crash ends
right here!
It is a milestone in his journey that should call for a celebration but it goes
completely
unnoticed. The sky has darkened so much from the approaching front that Ryan did not have a chance to see a change in the light, signaling an end to the towering canopy above. Now he was quickly distracted by the beauty of the first plateau.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the compass to check his bearing
. In the direction that he was to go there was a plateau of unexpected beauty. It was a marvelous site. All across the narrow plateau grew the giant elephant-ear plant. They towered over his head radiating in an effervescent green hue. Being a tropical and sub-tropical plant they thrived well under the canopy, and in the rich soil of the lower regions of these transitional lands.

Slowly he stepped forward gazing up through the large leaves that were every bit as big
as his
outstretched arms. He felt like a dwarf walking among giant green elephant ears, but they were truly plants.

Over his head and trapped in the crutch of the leaf was something shimmering
, a small pool of fresh water. Then—perhaps for the last time of the day—the sun broke through the darkened sky and the canopy above. The ears grew brighter and more transparent and Ryan reaching up tilted a leaf towards his face and the cool water refreshed him.  Walking along his bearing, and pulling each leaf down one-by-one, he drank and splashed his face until he had his fill. Before he knew it he had reached the end of the first two hundred foot long plateau. He knew this because what stood before him was another tall berm leading up to the next plateau. With a sigh a refreshed and even more determined Ryan turned to face the next obstacle.

This berm was different than the first
as it consisted more of gnarly tree trunks than rich soil. This berm of twisted trees strewn-about, piled-up like match sticks, was a combination of swamp trees that had fallen throughout the years, and decaying upland trees that had made their way down the slope with the eroding soil.

He concentrat
ed on how he was going to ascend the berm for there were no holes or little trees to grab. He studied the large branches and towering root balls of the fallen trees as he mapped out a path in his mind for which to climb.

“Let me see, I’ll start on that branch then hop to that branch, and then I’ll climb
over to that tree,” he said pointing out a zigzag pattern. And being so eager to get moving he hopped onto the first fallen tree and started his ascent.

He walked along the
log putting one foot in front of the other holding his arms out for balance and keeping an eye out so as to step on the center of the fallen log. The center provided the best traction; the rest of the log was covered with slippery moss. When he got to the end he carefully stepped up to the next log heading back in the opposite direction but above the log he had just left.

And so he continued this back
and forth pattern until he could go no further. Blocking his path was a huge root ball higher than he was tall. It had rotting roots hanging out of the bottom which enticed him to climb them like a ladder, and so he did. He cleared the root ball without looking back which was a good thing.

O
f all the places in the forest, a large root ball was the most likely place to find the black widow spider. The dark and dank crevices made for the perfect place to breed and lay egg sacs and as most tree stumps go this one was no exception. Ryan’s climbing had brought out dozens of the shiny black widows with their distinctive red hourglass markings, but he was in luck. He had escaped without a bite.

Clearing the root ball h
e stepped very slowly down a long log with nothing to hold on to.  Fifteen feet up in the air, arms held out for balance, he was nearing the top. Suddenly the log snapped out from under him. If it were not for a cross-log directly underneath he would have fallen to the bottom of the pile where he most likely would have become trapped, never to be seen again. That’s what was running though his mind, and with the sound of the log landing below, he could hear the telltale sound of an irritated diamond-back rattle snake—echoing in the hollow below. It sent shivers down his spine.

He scooted the rest of the way along the broken log. In fact he scooted along the final two logs never standing up again until he reached the top of the berm. Standing up he looked back from where he came. He looked down the treacherous pile
of logs, across the plateau of elephant ear plants towards the swamp. He had a great feeling of accomplishment and rightfully so. Then he turned to face the next plateau. It was not as beautiful as the previous one being that it was not under the towering canopy.

This two hundred foot stretch had lots of tall fern
s, thick scrub-oak trees, and vines. Vines as tough as wire with spikes like iron, his father called these vines—
tie-tie
. It was hard to cut thru tie-tie even with a machete; it would be next to impossible with a bayonet.

Ryan attempted it but after a few
swings he put the bayonet back into his waistband and then carefully snaked his way ahead, keeping one eye on the compass and an eye out for the tie-tie. Weaving in and out, and with the help of a long stretch of fern and scrub-oak, he had made it to the final berm. And just over the final berm came the last two-hundred foot long plateau and then the uplands. But then Ryan had no idea how much longer this ascent would be.

“Da
rn-it!” not another stinking berm to climb!

He put his hands on his hips as he looked this one over. He put his mind to solving it
right away
.
He knew, that if he thought about how tough the going had become, he would only get discouraged. Discouragement to Ryan was like a deadly poison. Too much of it and he would fail, and failure was not an option.

He
was trying to figure out how he was going to tackle the berm, when it came. A loud groaning noise off to Ryan’s left. He squatted down amidst the fern and scrub oaks. He had heard this noise before. It was another
bear!

Off to Ryan’s left a large male black bear emerged from a den in the side of the embankment. Ryan was well hidden from his view and
he was downwind. He was really in no danger so long as he remained quiet. He moved not a muscle.

After what seemed to be an eternity
, the bear wandered away down a path. Ryan waited ten minutes then very slowly he crept towards the path near the front of the den. He tossed a small stone inside. He tossed a larger stone and still no other bears appeared. Ryan felt it was safe to venture out onto the bear’s path.