LAKE OF THE SWANS
Book 2 of 3
Chapter 55
Back on the water, the dugout crew no longer enjoyed the benefit of a river’s current, and therefore, all hands had to paddle. And because they were an odd-numbered crew, it was decided that Laureal and Emma would take turns paddling. This would make for an even number of paddlers from side to side and help maintain equilibrium, saving their stern man a small but cumulative amount of energy with every paddle stroke. The decision to have Laureal and Emma be the ones to trade places was a consideration revolving around old age and pregnancy. The children, meanwhile, were delighted because they now had three pups to look after. So it was, while the children were looking after the pups, Emma or Laureal, whichever was not paddling, would look after the children. It was a big, crowded, heavy ship with scarcely a dull moment, all in the midst of such natural beauty as to be a reflection of heaven on earth.
As for the raftmen, they could just as easily have been zookeepers. The puppy pen had been tossed overboard, and even the horse was grateful for it. Dora, Dexter, Bella, Biscuit, and Daisy had been distributed among the canoes, leaving an on-deck menagerie of eight pups, one wolf, and a horse. Remarkably, they managed to move along alright with the afternoon breeze filling their sail and ample strength at the oars.
Manning the rudder, Anders looked back at the dugout crew with concern. “How you all doing?” he called out redundantly, as they were obviously struggling to keep up.
“We’re too heavy,” Mia hollered from her seat at the bow.
Hearing Mia’s complaint, Jessie shouted ahead, “Harley!”
“What-y?”
“We need some help back here.”
Coming about, Harley and Cody paddled back to come alongside the dugout—
“We should make you a sail,” Harley said, tossing Mia a rope. Then, looking to Elkhart, “If we can make camp early, we can build one.”
The birchbark canoes towed the dugout while its crew paddled, and the flotilla proceeded to the next island where camp was struck. The new sail, a fixed H-frame, stood upright on a pair of runners spaced parallel against the insides of the dugout’s hull, along with supporting cross members and gussets. The frame, combined with a sail of caribou hide, made for a modest wind-catcher. It would take up precious space, a drawback remedied by distributing cargo among the other boats, mainly the raft, which had more space in the absence of the puppy pen. Also somewhat problematic, the sail would hinder Elkhart’s ability to see ahead but not drastically, and, as always, they would have Mia’s sharp eyes at the bow.
Not unexpectedly, the morning arrived without a trace of breeze. The archipelago lay smooth as glass for as far as the eye could see, while, in the sky above, unusually narrow Cumulus clouds floated motionless, each like a narrow pillar of cotton balls and altogether like so many pillars in a temple. As a visual result, looking to the horizon from the family’s camp on the beach, the mirror images of the sky, being upside down in the water, reflected the pillars so perfectly as to give the illusion that each pillar went down into the depths. The effect being that, between the surface of water and sky, the horizon became lost in a panoramic illusion that filled the eyes with divine feelings of heavenly flight—
“The Great Spirit sends us a sign!” Emma stood on the beach, her hands lifted to the phenomena, “Before us, his temple of Creation, through which he will lead us, that on the other side, he may reveal what is now only mystery.”
“Let’s hope he sends some wind first,” John muttered under his breath.
Laureal jabbed her fingers into his side. He let out a muffled bark. The others turned to look. None had heard what he’d said, and Laureal only smiled.
Starting out, the scouts assisted the raft by way of a tow line. By the same means, Jessie and Rowe assisted the dugout. So it was that the birchbark canoes led the way a stone’s toss abreast with the dugout behind one and the raft behind the other. The clan’s overall load, being their home within their home for lack of a better term, weighed over twenty thousand pounds and, as can be imagined, required no small effort to set it in motion. But in motion they did go, slow but sure, into the sky’s mirror image.
Paddling at the bow, Rowe marveled at how the leading edge of the canoe cut the lake’s surface, dividing a reflection so starkly defined as to be hypnotic. Looking up from it, she caught Cody’s eye and smiled back at him with joyous bliss.
Scarcely had they traveled a mile when that which they prayed for arrived. Onak was first to see the telltale signs of it. Air currents were coming up from the south, rippling the surface as they raced in straight lines here and there before arcing to swirl in wind eddies. They engulfed the family, erasing the heavenly reflection even as they billowed the sails. The towlines were withdrawn and, as if assisted by an invisible hand, the travelers tripled their progress. The breeze grew and, with it, the family’s pace until, by midafternoon, a fair wind blew them along at a fast clip—
“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Emma exclaimed, flashing a smile back at Rutin.
“Indeed we are, my lady!”
At the raft’s helm, John manned the rudder, his primary focus being to keep Ellie perpendicular to the waves. At the front, Julian managed the sail. Scattered about the deck, Leo, Lola, Riley, Garth, Mattie, and the rest rode like a pack of dogs in the bed of a pickup truck. Weya sat like the Sphinx atop a low platform made from the packsaddle’s boxes stacked before the giant and directly behind Julian.
With pups to his left and right, Julian shot a grin over his shoulder, “The winder it gets, the alive’r they gets.”
Off in his own world at the back edge of the raft, Storm waited for the next wave. Then, as it caught and pitched the deck, he sprang to the front, that he might watch it roll out from under—his head tilted, his ears perked.
“Smartest dog I ever saw,” said John, chuckling.
From his place in the dugout, Fischer glanced over at the raft and laughed lowly. Then, glancing again, he laughed some more.
“What’s so funny?” asked Mia, turning to him.
“Ms. Molay, do you know what a rocking horse is?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“It’s a child’s toy, a wooden horse about waist-high. It stands on a pair of bowed runners like a rocking chair, and when a boy or girl sits atop it, they can rock fore-and-aft like riding a horse.” Concluding his explanation, Robert nodded to the raft.
Turning to look, Mia began to laugh.
Scouting a quarter-mile out, Cody looked ahead where cloud shadows and sunbeams appeared to race one another across the aquatic expanse. High above and far out, a pair of eagles never once flapped their wings but, as though called by the voice of the wind, tilted and slid sideways together at great speed across the sky.
Behind the scouts, the family remained together as a group. Out in front, Rowe turned to Jessie, her young face moist with windborne spray, “Do you think it will storm?”
“If it does, we’re not in open water.” Jessie flashed a reassuring smile. Her meaning was obvious, as the way ahead lay dotted with islands, any of which could provide refuge or, at the very least, a wind shadow on its backside.
“I’m glad for that,” Rowe replied, turning and digging into the next wave while, all around her, whitecaps marched in ranks, a situation that may have unnerved the girl if not for growing up in a family that was all about canoes.
The many islands, called ‘drumlins’ by 21st century geologists, were mostly oval in shape and occurred naturally in groups. Sometimes numbering in the thousands, drumlins always followed the flow of the glacier that formed them. Eons of wind and water had sculpted them further, while life, ever persistent, crowded them with evergreens. Surrounded by this natural art gallery, the family beheld a finished product of blue water, limestone cliffs, pebbly beaches, and grassy waterfronts swaying in the wind.
Riding in the dugout, Laureal fixed her eyes on John. He stood at the raft’s stern, manning the rudder, his feet planted firm, his broad shoulders turned, his long hair in the wind. His muscular body, clad only in a loincloth, appeared more toned than ever, glistening with airborne spray, bear grease, and perspiration.
John flashed her a broad smile, the joyful glow in his dark eyes easily seen at less than a stone’s throw. It lasted but a moment, for the business at hand demanded his all. And as he returned to it, he felt high as a kite. For there he was, riding the wind towards his lifelong objective with a beautiful woman in a troop of highly skilled specialists. He could hardly believe his luck.
Meanwhile up ahead, the scout canoe vanished in white-capped waves, causing Elkhart and the others to look on with concern, for it was the first time they had lost visual contact, something they had agreed to avoid. The sun had begun its descent in the west, and, as it turned out, the scouts had only gone behind an island to gain its wind shadow (so that they might wait for the others to catch up).
Harley and Cody soon reappeared and, having exited the wind shadow, came alongside the dugout. “If we are to make camp before this wind calms,” Harley began, looking to Rutin and Emma, “then we’ll need a sheltered area for the raft. Either that or we can continue until evening when the water lies down, God willing.”
“What do you have in mind, Harley?”
“I’d like to reach the peninsula you spoke of, but I know we’d be long on the water. So, if you think it’s better to make camp now, then Cody and I can go ahead and find a suitable island…and we can signal back from there and, hopefully, give the raftmen enough distance to angle for the wind shadow on the backside. If they can get close and drop their sail, we can throw them a couple of lines and hopefully tow them in before the wind blows them past. But as I said, if you think we can continue for several more hours, then I think the time and energy we would spend getting the raft into a wind shadow could instead be applied to making the peninsula.”
Paddling hard to counter the waves, Rutin glanced at the raft before returning his eyes to Harley—
“Against this wind, they don’t have much say.”
“In this wind, they might cut a ten-degree angle at best,” Harley replied, referring to the trajectory needed to gain shelter on the backside of an island.
“Emma, what say you?”
“I’m only paddling half-time,” reading Rutin’s eyes. “You’ve been at this all day.”
Rutin could not help but smile.
Harley dug and ruddered against the wind as he spoke, “It’s your call, Rutin.”
“I don’t like the first option,” Rutin rejoined. “The raftmen would have a mile-long fight just to set up for it, and the canoes would have a fight towing them in. And later, when the wind dies, with our camp in a wind shadow…we’d find ourselves in the deadest air possible. It would be a muggy camp, thick with mosquitoes and bad for rest. No, let’s continue and make the most of this wind. If it’s still blowing by the time we reach the peninsula, we’ll swing around to the backside.”
That evening, the family landed on the peninsula shortly after sunset. As hoped for, the wind had died down, allowing them to set up camp on a south-facing beach in a summer night’s breeze that would help keep the bugs at bay.
In the afterglow of twilight, they supped around their campfire. No one spoke much, such was their exhaustion. All then retired except Elkhart and Harley who remained at the campfire discussing the route ahead.
John and Laureal, having not yet erected their little tent, presently worked to do so. Laureal knelt beside a pile of spruce boughs that John had cut before supper. The importance of her task, having increased due to her pregnancy, saw her laying the boughs out carefully, filling in the thin spots to make the most comfortable underlayment possible. John came to her without a word, their tent in his hands. From the ruins of LA, the tent had proven its worth even as it neared the end of its days. Prior to leaving the Lake of the Swans, Laureal had washed it, stitched it where necessary, and re-waterproofed it with beeswax, sunshine, and fire. Together, they had pitched it so many times that their motions were nearly robotic. Each holding a corner in hand, they stretched it out before setting it straight down atop the boughs.
“Rutin’s going to send you hunting in the morning.”
“He is?”
“Yes,” handing him a tent stake.
“How do you know?” driving it in.
“Grandma gave him a list.”
Just then, a bat swooped between them only to vanish as quickly as it had appeared. Laureal started, albeit only mildly, after which both chuckled. Neither could see much in the starlight, but they knew the tiny shadow had most likely grabbed a mosquito. It was the hour for bats, and sure enough, another shadow swooped just to their right and then to their left. While bats swooped about, the couple went about their business as usual. The family’s campsite, being open to a beach on the horn of a peninsula, enjoyed a mild evening breeze while simultaneously exposing the mosquitoes to one of their most feared predators—bats. And that was good because even while repellent kept the bloodsuckers from biting, no one wanted to listen to their constant buzzing, although the savages were habituated to the annoyances of their world, just as the inhabitants of the 21st century had been habituated to theirs.
Her face turned up to his, Laureal knelt in the doorway while John stood just outside, the two of them a pair of dark silhouettes. Extending his arms, he offered her their bedding, which, more often than not, they laid out before darkness fell complete, but it hardly mattered. Either one of them could perform the task blindfolded.
“Darling,” taking the blankets in hand, “would you go and get our lamp, please?” referring to the soapstone lamp Jessie had given them at the Lake of the Swans.
“Do you want it lit?”
“Yes,” musically, as if to answer a stupid question.
“Do we really need it?” thinking all that remained was to fall down and sleep until the light of dawn.
“I want to see you. Is that too much to ask?”
Knowing only that it was a bad idea to argue with a pregnant woman, John simply turned and trudged away.
“John,” said Rutin from his place beside the campfire, would you come over here for a moment, please?” Everyone had turned in except for Rutin and Harley.
“What is it?” stepping over to them.
“Have a seat.”
“If I do, I’ll be in trouble.”
“Oh, and why’s that?”
“I’ve been sent on an errand, the importance of which I believe to be pressing, although I’m at a loss for understanding why.”
“Would I be out of line to ask the nature of this errand?”
“She wants a lamp.”
“For what?”
“To see me with.”
The campfire shadows on Harley’s face accentuated his amusement, “Perhaps,” he began, “you should try this instead…”
Having listened to Harley’s suggestion, John started back only to stop and turn around, “Rutin, what was it you wanted?”
“Harley and I were discussing the route ahead. There’s no regular shoreline to follow from here on. So, to keep the raft from being blown into dead ends, we need to modify our signaling arrangement…but we can talk about that later. We’re going to take a rest day tomorrow. After that, we’ll do some hunting.”
“We’re not hunting tomorrow?”
“No.”
Again, John turned away only to have Harley call him back, “John.”
“Yeah.”
“Come here,” gesturing with his hand.
John returned, and Harley spoke knowingly, “Don’t go in there and announce a better idea. Instead, tell her you thought of something that she might like.”
Returning to his and Laureal’s tent, John poked his head inside, “I didn’t get the lamp.”
“Why not?”
“I can still get it, but I think there’s something you might like more,” John replied, his silhouette framed by starlight. “If you like, we can go to the beach, and I’ll show you.”
Emerging from their tent, our hero and heroine stepped quietly through an empty campsite surrounded by a natural cirque of aspens that opened to a south-facing beach. Out on the beach, the birchbark canoes lie on polished pebbles. The raft and dugout had been moored away from exposure to the south wind, just a stone’s toss through the trees on the north side of the peninsular horn.
Leading his wife with one hand, John picked up a bag of spare blankets along the way. Out onto the beach they went, following its curve along the inside of the horn to its rocky tip where, finding just the right spot, John set the bag of blankets against the face of a small boulder, parked his tail on the pebbles, and reclined against the bag as if relaxing on a couch.
“It’s not as bright as a lamp in a tent,” bringing her down beside him, “but it ain’t bad.”
“It’s better,” smiling.
The windy day had cleared the clouds away, leaving only a handful of whisps here and there, vaguely illuminated like feathers floating in a star dome. To the east, a thin crescent moon hovered over the water while, closer at hand, tiny waves no bigger than ripples could he heard rhythmically lapping the beach.
“Rutin told me that tomorrow will be a rest day.”
“Really? When did you speak with him?”
“A few minutes ago, when I went to get the lamp. He was at the fire with Harley. They were making plans, and he called me over.”
“What did he say?”
“Something about navigating from here on, but…he said it could wait.
Laureal looked out over the water, “I’m glad we’re taking a rest day.”
“I guess we’ll be staying here several days.”
“I can see why. It’s a perfect place,” leaning into him like a pillow. “The kids will be happy. Noah especially loves riding in the canoe, but the confinement wears on him, and Sophie too. And then, they wear on me.” Laureal concluded with a painful little smile.
“Well…you’ll get a break tomorrow.”
Laureal lowered her eyes to her tummy bump, and seeing her do so, John leaned in and spoke to it, “In a few years, Ellie will have a foal for you.”
“Weya’s puppies will have puppies for you,” Laureal added.
“There’ll be trees and rocks to climb on.”
“And a rope swing.”
“At a swimming hole.”
Smiling, they trailed off into their own thoughts—the light of a million stars glimmering above, the sound of the aspens, so soft in the breeze, the faint scent of pines on a summer’s eve. He pulled her close, and she turned her face up to his, “I was watching you today.”
“Oh you were, were you?”
“Yes, and I thought you looked particularly handsome.”
“That’s funny because I thought you looked particularly beautiful.”
“Ha!”
“No really. You’ve acquired a glow.”
“You think so?”
“I’m looking at it right now.”
Holding to one another, they traded looks, their eyes shining in starlight.
Across the dark water, the call of a loon came through the void of night, soon to be answered by its mate. Back and forth the lovebirds called to one another, their haunting voices like echoes from the depths of the wild.
“John.”
“Yeah.”
“Thank you for bringing me out here.”
“Well, thank you for coming,” somewhat punchy from exhaustion.
“Let’s head back.”
As he shifted to rise, she tugged at him, “John.”
“What?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” gently brushing her hair back. “I love you with all my heart.”
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