[center]The S.W. Chronicles[/center]
Journal entry one: Where to begin? Well, it seems at the beginning of this story is the best. I took a flight from South Africa, my home, to Australia. I went to Australia to meet a gentleman named Quentin. He had written me a couple years ago about a discovery he had made and wanted to share it with me, as I was friends with some importing people. He would not tell me what it was in the letters, but, asked if I could come and visit and he would share it. I don’t know if it appeared as a disappointment right off or not, but something he called, Ginger Beer, did not live up to what he had promised.
Well, after sleeping on the matter, I concluded that I would not invest in this new invention of his and began to get things together for the return trip home. It just wasn’t my cup of tea, if you know what I mean. Quentin was kind enough even though I had turned him down, and gave me a lift to the airfield to catch my flight. He also promised he would still write.
A DC-3 was sitting on the dirt run way and my bags had been loaded. There were several other passengers waiting to board as well. A young couple, two men who seemed to be in a heated discussion, and four other men who were just milling around. As I walked toward the aircraft a two of the four made some comments that I could over hear quite well. “What does she think she is, an explorer?” The taller of the two said to the other as he eyed me. The second just shook his head. I stopped and turned to the men. Putting my hands on my hips in a condescending posture, my face began to take on an angered expression and I slowly walked over to the pair. “Do I take it, you gentlemen do not approve of women explorers.,” My tone just below seething level. A mixture of laughter and mockery came from both until a cry of pain changed the first gentlemen’s tone. He fell to the ground holding his shin, his face grimacing from the pain the swift kick I had just delivered.
The whine of the twin engines began as they sent dust flying around the windows. With an increase of throttles and a rumble, the lumbering craft began rolling, picking up speed as it edged toward the end of the runway. I had only a view over the wing, so I could only look forward in the cabin seeing out the cockpit windows to know where we were. The plane turned and began the roll for take off. I looked forward to getting home and back to matters at hand. But I had to admit, I had liked what I had seen of this country. The beauty in the sparseness was different. I had to admit it appealed to me. I would like to come back and explore here a bit more on day.
The other passengers seemed occupied with reading and small talk. The young couple were asleep, her head resting his shoulders. The men who had been engaged in a heated discussion back at the air field, were still in disagreement, though they kept the volume down to a whisper now. I could not quite make out what they were discussing, but it did seem a bit intense. I decided to nap a little bit. We were scheduled for several stops in this county before crossing the ocean back to South Africa.
I’m still not sure how long I had slept, but the rough air the plane hit, woke me quickly. There was a violent storm outside and the plane dipped and rose. It shook so that I thought it would fall apart. The copilot looked back into the cabin and yelled, “Everyone, hold on to something, we’re going down.” That set everyone on an edge. The couple clung to each other while others gathered their things together and held them like they would not see them again. Judging by the storm that might very well be true. We began to descend, where, I do not know. The clouds surrounding us were so dark with rain.
After a few minuets of this, there seem to be a break ahead of us, the sun light shining a bit more in these clouds. I looked out my window and saw the ocean, the surf breaking on rocks and the few trees whipping back and forth. We were on the coast, but where? It looked like we were just five hundred feet up. Too low to regain any altitude and speed to escape disaster. We were indeed, going to crash. I put my things together in a bag and put it by my feet. If we crash, I wanted my things near me. The others showed a mixture of disbelief and fear. They had no clue as to what would happen to them but did think that they were about to die.
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The landing, if you could call it that, was rough. I will credit the pilots for that though. Unfortunately, they did not survive. The cockpit had crushed them when we struck a boulder. Everyone else though, did survive. I began to salvage what I could from the plane. Another man helped me. His name was Michael. He had not said much on the flight nor at the airfield. The couple, I had found out were named Mau and Chet. The two men who stayed in a heated discussion were, Peter and Arch. Turns out they knew each other before the flight and just loved to discuss things. The others were, Ed, Paul, and Mitch who went by the nickname, Mustang. Mustang, I had over heard, had lived in this country all his life. I thought that might be a help in our survival. He was also a maverick, hence the name Mustang, he was a little on the wild side.
Michael and Mustang went off in search of some dry wood to try and build a fire. The couple, Mau and Chet sat on a rock and went through some of the supplies that were salvaged from the plane. There were signal flares, tools, matches, and a first aid kit. The only things we did not have, was drinking water and food. Peter and Arch just sat by themselves, sulking. Neither wanted to help out with our survival. They just wanted to wait for rescue and said as much. Ed, Paul went though the aircraft trying to salvage parts of it to build things with. Ed wanted to get anything shinny to make a signal mirror. That presuming the storm clouds leave and if someone comes looking for us, as we weren’t sure the pilots had gotten a message off or not.
Michael and Mustang came back with what looked like timbers from boats and a bag over Mustangs shoulders. The bag it turns out, contained mussels for food. I had wandered around and found some animal tracks, but none I could identify. I moved back to where I could see Michael and Mustang using a hatchet on the timbers to cut off the wet sections to get at the dry to light. The gear also contained some lighter wood to use to start a fire. After half an hour, a fire was going, and we could warm up a little bit. I then thought about water. It’s not like we can drink sea water, so I got Indy and we set off looking for a spring, stream or anything else to get fresh water.
Mau worked up the courage to dig around the cockpit for anything useful. She did find a map the pilots had used to plot their flight. Now we could find out where we were and how to get out of here. She also asked Chet if they could bury the pilots. He looked over their situation and shook his head. They were pinned in tightly. He took her by the hand and pulled her away, a tear forming in the corner of her eye; sad at the loss and that nothing could be done for them. . They set about cutting cloth from the seats and taking whatever else they could find useful.
I saw some dense green undergrowth about one hundred yards ahead. I knew there must be water near to support the growth. We headed off in that direction. The walk was pleasant enough, and Ed proved good company. We made small talk about a lot of areas. He seemed knowledgeable in a lot of things. He also said he had lived in a city in the states, somewhere in North America. Ten minuets later, we came across a small spring in the nook of rocks. The water ran clear and pure, and tasted so good. Ed and I drank our fill and then filled the containers we brought with us. We returned before nightfall to refill them again.
Mustang sat down at one of the bags that had belonged to a pilot. There was a long case attached to it. Opening it, it turned out to contain a fishing rod. Now they could catch some fish for food. Mustang knew the type of fish and what to bait for them. He dug up a length of twine and some bait and headed for the surf. Needless to say, they meal that night was even better. Grilled fish steaks always was a favorite of mine.
Journal entry two: The second day seemed more promising than the other. The sky had begun to clear and we had all had some food and water. Indy, Mustang and myself poured over the map. Apparently the co-pilot had marked most of the course they would take and indicated the area they had already covered. They would only be off by about twenty miles to account for the storm. The nearest town on the map was about one hundred miles away. Mustang said it had no airfield, but it did have a port and could catch a ship to wherever we wanted to go. He also said the travel would be hard and would take about a week to get there. This set Peter off to grumbling that they should just sit here and wait for rescue. I looked him in the eye and said calmly, “There won’t be anyone coming” and turned to Mustang and he gave a nod of confirmation. Peter and Arch both turned at this and fumed. “You have the choice, stay here or get off your backsides and get with the program, Got it?” I said. Both men seemed surprised by my attitude.
It was about three hours later, when we had all the items together in nine packs. The fish that had been caught were cooked and wrapped for the trip. The map showed some rough areas ahead and we would have to detour away from the sea for about twenty five miles distance before angling back to the sea. We would have to be on the look out for water all along the way. The containers that we had would not hold a lot. We all stopped by the spring and drank as much as we could hold and moved on. Michael took the lead for the first hour.
I found a good sized stick that after I cleaned it up, made an excellent walking stick. Ed moved up along side me as we began making our way through some rough brush. Thorns that seemed to dig in with a desire for blood. “What’s on you mind” I asked as he kept pace. His limp was a little less noticeable now,
“I just wanted to apologize for my comments back at the airfield, they were wrong and so was I.” He kept looking at the ground or trees, every where but at me. The expression on his face spoke volumes. It looked as if admitting this hung on him. I kind of felt sorry for him now. But, I decided to play it out a little longer.
“That wasn’t so hard, now was it” I responded. A grin on my face as I looked at him. He looked up at me, not knowing what to expect. He stopped in his tracks and just shook his head. This made me laugh out loud.
The next three hours went rather smoothly to my surprise. I guessed we had covered about four miles, judging by the map, and the lay of the land. A rise to the south of us gave a good bearing to go by. Michael moved back down the trail and Mustang took over the lead. I noticed Michael had made himself a walking stick as well, though his was larger. Almost that of a quarter staff. I noticed a slight design carved in the staff three quarters the way up. It looked like a star.
Arch and Peter picked up their topic again as we walked. I tried to tune it out, but to no success. Mau and Chet moved up a pace or two to get further away from it. Paul still brought up the rear. He had the most fun of making sure we had no stragglers, but it also made him be too close to the conversation. I know how he feels.
Noon time brought on a rest period and a little food and water. Mustang said that he thought a stream may be near and he and I should scout it out. It sounded fine to me, I liked the country side and welcome a chance to explore more of it. I grabbed my stick and a container and we headed off after letting Ed know where we were going. The others didn’t even seem to notice we were leaving.
A little bit of walking brought us to a wide stream that was lined with moss covered rocks. Mustang cautioned me about approaching it. He picked up a large rock and threw it in near the bank. A swosh and stirring made me take a step back. A tail turned in the water and moved away from the bank. Mustang said it was a fresh water crocodile. It seemed safer now to move close and get some water. I lowered the container, never taking my eyes off the surrounding area. The I took a long deep drink. It was cold and tasted good. Again we drank our fill and then took the refilled containers and headed back to the others.
The others had stretched out in some patchy shade and a couple of them had even nodded off a little. Rest would help a little to regain energy. But, it was now time to move on. I poked and prodded the sleeping ones to get up and we grabbed our things and started out again. Mau and Chet were still a little groggy.
Journal entry three: Day three finally brought us sunshine. The dawn was so beautiful. If I did not have to return home, I believe I would stay here for a while. The food was about gone, so we started looking for any type of fruit to eat and any game we might be able to catch. Though I did not hold much hope out for that. I asked if any of the others had heard any sounds last night. But aside from the usual conversations, no one said they heard anything. I knew that I had, but I could not place the sound other than a rustling on the brush.
At the first break, I got the map out and did few calculations. I figured we had covered about eight miles a day for the last three days. Not enough to get us out in less than a week. I spoke to the group and said we need to pick up the pace to get at least ten miles a day. Most agreed, except for Peter. He said again, he just wanted to sit and wait for help. I tried to reason that no help would be coming. His reply was that we could send help back. Mustang just shook his head in disbelief. No one could get to where we were, let alone rescue anyone. So, I told him to get off his back side and get a move on, or we would leave him behind. He huffed a bit, till we were almost out of sight. Then he quickly came running up, to catch back up with Arch. He told Arch, between catching his breath, that he couldn’t believe we would leave him behind like that.
Two hours into the walk, brought a yip sound, not too different from a dog. “Dingo’s “ Mustang said. Most of us had walking stick’s now, so we would have a defense. Peter and Arch began to stay closer to Mustang and Michael now. Fear does amazing things.
Paul came back from waking the lead to see what happened to us. Mustang told him of the dingo’s and then gave us a little lesson on them. They could be dangerous if in a pack, but if in one or two’s, they could be handled. So, we would have to be a lot more alert. I hoped we would soon be at the point that we headed back toward the sea. Fruit proved to be a little scarce. We were all getting hungry. I just wanted a hot bath. Oh well, back to the trail. We had a little over six hours of day light left and needed to make the most of it.
Near the end of the day, we began to pick up some sticks for the nightly fire. It was easier than testing the luck of having it when we made camp. Nights here were a treat. I loved the night sounds. The insects didn’t bite too much, but the sounds were enjoyable, at least to me. Peter and Mau didn’t like them too much. Peter slept near the fire that night. I think he was afraid a dingo might want to take a bite out of him. He had that terror look on his face as Mustang had told us about them. After getting the fire going, we scrounged for food. Roots that Mustang said was edible, and found in abundance were gathered and cooked. They tasted ok, a bit starchy for me, and in need of salt. I looked forward to the sea again and some fish. I could learn to like the plant life, but truth be told, I was a meat eater in heart.
Sleep came eventually, but I was awaken around midnight by a sound I did not remember hearing before. Michael was on guard that hour. He waved at me as I sat up. He didn’t seem to have heard the sound. I walked over and sat by him as he through another piece of wood on the fire. I reached for a green stick and began to poke at the fire. Sparks flew upward into the night like a fireworks display. Then I heard the sound again. Michael looked at me and said, “He’s back again”. I had an incredulous look on my face.
“You mean to say you knew someone was out there and didn’t say anything?” I asked, trying to keep my voice down. Michael nodded. It took me a while to get out of him what he knew. Michael said he had already seen and talked to the stranger following them. The stranger, Michael indicated, was no threat to them, but was just curious to see people this far from a town. The strangers’s name was Ben. He lived a day’s journey from the plane wreck and had heard us coming. It seemed, that he was responsible for some of our good luck so far. I asked if he was going to continue to follow us, and final nodded yes. It took a bit for me to go back to sleep. Knowing that someone was out there watching us.
Journal entry four: Dawn came to slight over cast skies, and a scent of water in the air. Peter was stoking the fire up a little. He wanted to reheat some of the left overs from last night. Seems the ruffing it was settling in to him, a little. Arch moved near the fire, warming his hands. The nights got a little cool, but the days quickly warmed up nicely. Today, according to the map, we should arrive back at the sea shore. We had a river to cross, but it should be easy enough. I had, though, not forgotten the crocodile incident and would be very careful.
The packs were getting lighter as we used up some of the supplies we had scrounged. We still needed to carry as much water as we could find. Not just for drinking, but for cleaning as well. The brush could be unmerciful at times, so many thorns to tear the skin. I washed the scratches and dressed them as best I could. Mau was quite adept at the medical practices as well.
I longed to learn more in this life, which led me to were I am today. But the truth be told, most men did not like to see a woman in my position. It took even more work to prove myself. And, to a degree, I have. I have articles published on wilderness travel and other studies. That’s why I seem to love it out here so much. The things I see, they fascinate me so much. But, I am now off my subject and back to the hike. I have to laugh at Peter sometimes. He and his city life did not leave him at much of an advantage out here.
Continuing on for the few more hours eventually turned the trail to a river bank. Perfect time to take a break and figure a way across. The flow was slow and gentile. I favored making a raft as the river was at least eight feet deep here and I did not wish to swim in light of the other experience with the crock. I looked for materials to tie a raft together while Mustang set out to catch some fresh water fish for us. Chet and Ed got the firewood together so we could cook the fish we hoped Mustang could catch while Michael and Arch went a little further upstream to get the water for drinking. They were, of course, were warned of the wild life they could encounter. That made Arch happy to no end. The look of gloom on his face was priceless.
A it turned out, there was only a small amount of wood to make a raft, so we lashed all of it together and put our packs on it to keep them dry. As for us, we would have to swim. I was hesitant, but with a little patience, mustang was able to help me get past the fear, and we crossed without exception. We had food left over, we wrapped it for later and we also took time to change into some dry clothes. That helped the rest of the day go by faster. Leaches were only a minor problem, but they seemed to like Peter a lot. He used his lighter to get them to let go. Mau wanted to help, but Peter would hear none of it. I wanted to laugh at the site, but, I knew he had his hands full without me adding to his misery.
Two hours later, we could again smell the sea. I planed to take a swim when we arrived back at the coast. Mustang would tend to the fishing. He was quite skilled at it. Ed started to pickup some kindling along the way. I found some fruit as well and picked some to have when we made camp. Looking at this group, I am amazed we have gotten along as well as we have, no that I’m complaining.
A barking sound, or yelp came from ahead of us, and we all raised our walking sticks. Dingos! We moved into a clearing and spotted two of them. They did not seem to be afraid of us. But, to correct that, four of us charged them whooping it up and raising our sticks to swing at them. They skittered away, but soon return to try to nip at us. “Just give them some of the fish” Peter said, “they will eat it and leave us alone”. I just shook my head.
“If you give them any food, they will be back for more” Mustang replied. I picked up a couple of rocks and threw them. One scored a hit and the dingo yelped and ran away with it’s mate behind it. I knew I didn’t want them following us to the next camp.
Finally, the surf could be heard, then seen. There was even a little sandy area, a mini beach. A smile lit my face. We got the fire pit dug and lined with rocks and made a couple of lean-to shelters while Mustang went fishing. I dug into my clothes and pulled out my swimsuit. I ducked into the bushes to change. Mau and Chet headed down the shore in search of whatever they found, arm in arm. Seems love was in the air. Peter and Arch settled back into their discussions when I reappeared and headed toward the surf. Ed and Paul were staring at me as I dove in. When I popped back to the surface, they still were staring. I held my hands out as if to say, What? You never saw a girl swimming before?. They just sat down, watching. I enjoyed my swim. It gave me a chance to stretch tired muscles and exercise. Dinner was an hour and a half later. The fish were a welcome change from the roots. The fruit was sweet as well. Michael moved to were I sat and handed me the water bottle. He moved off to the brush and sat, staring at the sea. He seemed to relax the easiest of all of us. As always, night came and much needed sleep.
Journal entry five : Dawn came as usual. We all woke, a little restless and ready to be gone from here. Water was getting low, so that would be our first priority. We needed it to survive. I said I would go to look for some and Paul and Mau came as well. We headed in an area Mustang indicated should have some water. Peter, got his gear together and wanted to head out on his own. A change from a few days ago. But, Mustang explained the dangers to him, embellishing a little so he would see the error of his ways and stay put.
As I moved toward the location Mustang had indicated, I heard something moving a head of us. I could not make out what or who it was. It didn’t sound like the dingo’s though. Then I remembered the fellow Michael had talked to, Ben. So I called out his name, and Mau looked at me in surprise. I explained what Michael had told me and she was the more amazed. Someone watching them, following them? At that moment, the brush parted and this tall thin man stepped out. “Ben, I presume?” he nodded and pointed the way we were headed and said there was a spring in that direction about one hundred yards. I moved on, Mau behind and Paul following up and got the water. When we returned, Ben was no where to be seen.
Camp was soon packed up and ready to move on. According to the map, the walking would be easier, so we would push a little harder to get an extra mile or two and make up some time. I for one was ready for a hotel room and a hot meal in a restaurant. As for the other, well, we shall see.
Sticks in hand, we worked our way around to thorn brush, nasty stuff. I’ve had my fill of scratches to last a lifetime. Peter and Arch were in second place with Ed bringing up the rear. The sun was a scorcher. But, thankfully no insects to bother us.
A couple hours into the walk, I decided to break for some water. In the middle of the second gulp, I was turned toward the sea. I almost dropped the container. Michael and Mustang turned and asked what was wrong. All I could do was point toward the sea. There, heading away from us, were two tall sails. The craft moved quickly in the stiff breeze, by the time we started to shout and wave, they were on the horizon. Disappointment was all around, but the most vocal was Peter. He could not believe we let him down and had not caught the attention of the boat so he could get out of here. Mau and Chet looked ready to turn on him, but Arch managed to get Peter calmed down and quiet. The others had all ready had enough more than enough of his complaining.
Mustang decided we could use some good news, so while pouring over the map, he said, “Listen up people, that boat was a very good sign.” Paul looked over Mustangs shoulder to see what was up. “The ship must have come from the port town where we’re headed, there isn’t any other even near on the map”. I asked what that meant in relative terms.
“It means, we have about one day’s walk left to reach the port” he replied. That was good news to me. I looked around, but Michael was gone. I asked if any had seen him, but no one had since before the ship was sited. I started to go look for him when he appeared from the brush with someone in tow. The others did not know what to make of the stranger. None but myself, Michael, Mau and Chet knew of him and who he was.
We gathered the equipment together to see what we had left, after all, with one day’s walk left, we were almost home. I guessed the time to be about four o’clock in the afternoon when we got ready to continue. Michael took the lead, and Mustang brought up the rear. The new man was near me and Michael. Mau was still curious why he was here. But, we started off in the direction of the port. Strange to have someone else with us now. But, it gave some, a new topic to talk about.
By seven o’clock, we decided to make camp for the night. Mustang went fishing again and I tagged along to learn some of his techniques. It was a treat to learn new things. I was going to hate leaving here, as odd as it sounded.
Later, after cooking the fish Mustang caught, mine were a little too small, we had our fill. We soon got ready to turn in. Mau sat beside me and tried to find out what I knew of the stranger. I was not at liberty yet to say what I knew, but I did tell her, I didn’t think we had anything to fear. She and Chet slept near their own fire and Peter and Arch stayed near their own as they returned to their discussions. Seems they never get finished with it. Ed sat near the main fire whittling on his walking staff. Michael and the man sat a ways off talking, about what, I do not know. Paul pulled a book out of his bag and sat reading by the fire light. A novel I think. Me, I sat in deep thought, wondering about this adventure. So much had happened, but it seemed to be turning out alright. Still, there was a day left and more travel when we reached port. I may just catch a ship back to South Africa rather than trying to fly back.
Journal entry six: Dawn came in an overcast sky, the smell of rain in the air. We looked at today as the last day here and soon reach freedom of civilization. I got my gear packed and looked around. Michael and the stranger were gone. I was a little alarmed because of what I knew. I got the others on up and said to eat so we could get the show on the road. As we readied ourselves, he and the stranger returned. He introduced Ben to everyone. He explained who he was and why he was there. He also explained that trouble was ahead. He let Ben continue the story as he got his gear together. It seems a large pack of dingo’s were between us and the port and we would have to defend ourselves to get there.
We all started looking pale. But, we asked what they could do and how would we get there. The two choices were to fight through the dingo’s or take the long way around which would add and extra day, but without water to drink. Not the best of choices. We all pretty much agreed, the long way with no water was a bad idea, but then, so was the straight way. We opted for the straight route. For once Peter didn’t complain. But seemed up for the fight. We would prepare some spears as well as our walking sticks.
By the time we heard the first one, tens were near us, trying to nip at our heels. We swung spears and staffs, striking heads. They seemed to replace one for everyone we hit. Peter managed to spear a couple that the others then turned on. That gave us a small break and we hurried on about another hundred yards till the next battle. Again it was the strike and spear tactic that worked best, but by the time we ran again, we were getting tired. At the next stop, Ben pulled a little item out that had a cord attached to it and proceeded to unwrap it.
The sound it made as he swung it over his head was odd, but did not seem to bother the dingo’s. “What’s that suppose to do, put them to sleep?” Peter asked with sarcasm in his voice. After about five minuets, we had out answer. Natives in the area were throwing spears at the dingo’s killing several. The others hi-tailed it and took off for safer areas. Ben bowed and waved to the natives who waved back and turned to leave. We didn’t get the opportunity to thank them for their help. The rest of the travel was un eventful, thankfully. We saw the smoke coming from the rise before us, then the aroma of food cooking and knew we had arrived. The port spread before us, and the best site of all, two ships to catch a ride home on. But first, I wanted a room and a bath. Exhaustion began to take over and I wanted nothing more than to sleep. When we reached the Inn, Ben had secured us rooms for the night and went to check on passage on the ships. He had done so much for us.
After I got an hours sleep, someone knocked on my door. How I hated to get up, but was glad when I did. Michael, Ben, and Mustang were there. Mustang explained what I had not known of ff and his help. It seemed that they knew each other and some how, instinct, ff knew where to find us. Any way, he knew the route we were taking and followed incase we needed help and at the end, he knew of the danger and wanted to help, so he contacted his friends the morning we had noticed him and final missing. How glad I was. I thanked him and said if I was ever back here, I would look him up. He thanked me and left.
Mustang told me I would be leaving on one ship and the rest would be on the other as they were going in opposite directions. I knew then, I would miss them all. Friends made and hopefully kept. Paul and Ed promised to write. Mustang said I would be welcomed back any time. I wanted to thank Michael, but he disappeared. I never found out what happened to him. No one saw him leave and he was not on either ship when they sailed. This was an adventure I would remember for a life time. My journal would help me recount the story for others one day. Now though, time to put my pen down and get ready to leave the ship. We are arriving at South Africa. Home at last. As for me, well my name is Sara Whitaker, though I prefer to go by the initials SW, and these are my Chronicles....
Journal entry, closed.