Leave Only Footprints
09 July 2019 | Kisameet
James & Roni Redman
Soooooo, not the first time I have been out in the middle of no where racing through the underbrush hoping to find James, wondering what to do when I do find him, while imagining only the worse. We were on a trail up to a lake at Kisameet, after having spent the night as the only boat in a serene anchorage, two baby docks, one eagle and us.
I was a bit ahead of James, marveling at the Bald Eagle just a few feet below me, examining the waterfall for dinner. The thunder of the water crashing over rocks and logs kept the eagle from hearing me and almost kept me from hearing "Roni, come help me?" James had dropped our bear spray along the way, and so turned back to find it. We are soooo cautious!
So, I slipped and slogged, climbed over logs, ducked under logs, as fast as I could until he calls grew louder, and then. . . there he was, upright, alive, but knee deep in soft, black muck. The skunk cabbage provided no support and each effort to move only got him deeper. one foot pulled loose enough to loose its shoe!
The good news is, this black mud is actually carefully collected and shipped off as the , THE, magical component in some verrry expensive skin cream. So, with a few grunts and a little bit of colorful language, we did manage to extract both James and a full arms length down on my part actually pulled out his shoe.
Laughter came with relief on my part. James. . . not quite so much laughter.