Lightning at 200 Durham Street

by Ron Finch

  Georgie looked at us and said: “That’s not good news.”

  It suddenly dawned on me what was going on and why Georgie was concerned. If that tree was two and a half miles away, then our baseline should be at least a couple miles long. This was just another small hitch in our plan.

  “Maybe we should have added bicycles to our equipment list,” Jay chimed in, helpful as always.

  “Great day for exercise,” I said to my frowning friends. “Let’s get at it. We’re going to be doing some walking, and we won’t have a lot of time to spare before Jay’s dad comes back to pick us up.”

  I drove a wooden stake into the soft earth at the side of the road using the small sledgehammer provided by Jay’s dad while Jay took out his fancy homemade angle measuring device. We’d decided to call this apparatus the Jaytractor, instead of the protractor, because it certainly wasn’t PROfessional in design or construction. Jay accused us of teasing him. He was right, and we enjoyed every minute of it.

  Jay and I collaborated, using his device to take the angular measurement as best as we could. It was a crude measurement, but we decided, after a vote, on 52°. The next bit of fun involved measuring the baseline; not that the word ‘fun’ could be connected at all to the process we were going to use. We were a little too democratic, in my opinion, when it was decided by a vote of three to one that I would be the trail man.

  Still going my way, I thought, less than pleased.

  Since our rope was only 300 feet long, every 300 feet I would get left behind holding the end of the rope. When the rope ran out they would have to stop and wait for me to catch up and then we would have to repeat the process. So I stood there holding the end of the rope, with no one to talk to, while the other three went off up the road, chatting happily away. If anything, it was actually a lot more boring than it seems when you read about it. Fortunately, it was a fairly nice afternoon. Not too hot for an unintended walk down a country road. It had rained a couple of days ago, so even the dust wasn’t too bad.

  We had agreed that once we got near Georgie’s relatives’ place we would try to tiptoe by. I had already exceeded my embarrassment quota for the day, and, although in my opinion the others were under quota, they agreed silence was the best policy. We almost got past Georgie’s relatives’ place unscathed by any embarrassing questions from the sidelines, but just as we’d started to congratulate ourselves on our quiet bypass, two of Georgie’s small cousins popped their heads out of the long grass by the side of the road.

  “What are you doing back here now? What’s going on? Do we need to go and tell your mom you’re back?” they asked.

  Georgie gave them a couple of our picnic cookies to calm them down and they went back to playing in their imaginary house at the side of the road.

  By the time we got down to the next corner we had completed 29 measurements at 300 feet a piece. We were reluctant to go any further but realized that the baseline was probably still too short. We agreed unanimously that it was time for lunch: it’s easier to make decisions when you’re not hungry.

  We decided to have our picnic sitting on some conveniently provided stones from a nearby farmer’s field, commonly known as a stone pile. This picnic was the best idea of the day by far. We had chicken sandwiches, nonalcoholic ginger beer, and some cookies. Sylvia had wisely packed ice around the sandwiches when she’d packed the lunch.

  As we sat and chatted, we realized that we didn’t have a lot of time left. It was already after three and we knew we needed to measure off anywhere from another 10 to 20 lengths of that 300-foot rope.

  I took a piece of paper from the back of the booklet we were recording our information in and wrote the numbers 10 to 20 on it in columns. Then, as neatly as we could, we ripped the paper into squares, each square with one of the numbers on it. We folded up the squares and dropped them into my cap. Since Sylvia had prepared the lunch, we gave her the honour of drawing.

  “The winner is 14,” she proudly announced.

  There wasn’t much cheering at the result.

  We went on down the road, completing our final measurements without much enthusiasm. You can do the math, but you know we measured off more than 12,000 feet. (It was 12,900 feet, actually.) Fortunately, we could still see the tree. Thank heavens there was no significant dip in the road. Jay got out his trusty Jaytractor and we measured the final angle. This angle was roughly 67°. In theory, we now had enough information to determine how far away that tree was.

  We were tired, but we were pleased. Our plans hadn’t worked out as we’d thought they would, but we’d improvised, and we did have the information we needed. Even better, we still had time to get back to George’s relatives before Jay’s dad came to pick us up.

  It had been quite an afternoon.

  Monday, May 14 to Saturday, May 19

  FOR THE NEXT FOUR DAYS, as part of our homework, Jay and I worked on the assignment.

  We divided the work up. I did most of the writing. I included a small preamble that included the purpose, method, and list of required equipment. Then I added a section titled ‘Summary Comments’. In this section, I outlined the problems we ran into and how we solved them. Jay handled the observations, calculations, and conclusions. He sketched a great map laying out the concession roads, the bush, and our landmark tree and included the measurements – both distance and angles – on it. The calculations page produced the distances to the tree from both endpoints. These distances were the numbers that Mr. Graf was after.

  After Thursday night we had our project in great shape, completed and ready to submit, and we celebrated with ginger beer and homemade cookies. Friday afternoon we proudly presented our assignment to Mr. Graf. He was astounded. We were a day early.

  This had been a big week for Jay. Earlier in the week, on Tuesday, he’d gotten his driver’s license. In his mind, I think getting his license was an accomplishment that even topped our joint completion of the project. Since getting his license, his dad had let him drive the car twice: once to my place on Wednesday, and then again on Thursday night so that we could finish our project.

  His dad had become very interested in the project, too. We had talked off and on during the week about going back to the woods on Monday. Monday was only May 21st, but since it was the last Monday before the 24th, it was the official holiday. The Queen’s Birthday was my favourite holiday. The weather was usually good and it meant a day off school. My parents even closed the family store; and then, just as dark came, we had our own private fireworks display on that double lot beside our house.

  Ever since last Sunday, Jay and I had wanted to return to the woods. Our curiosity had gotten the best of us. We were determined to find that big tree and put a sign on it that said: Jay and Joel were here, along with the date. Mr. Jarvis – or Brad, Jay’s dad – was almost as curious as we were. He said that he and his wife Carolanne had contacted Jay’s uncle Herbert and aunt Emeline. They were going to go for a visit on the holiday Monday. We could go with them. And if we were not too late coming home, Jay could drive us back to Chaseford.

  Mr. Jarvis was concerned about us going into that bush. He told us that, according to Herbert, the woods were virtually untouched. Aside from the little bit he owned, nobody had bothered with the bush for years. The neighbouring farmers didn’t have much use for it. The bush didn’t seem to harbour any animals worth hunting, there was no stream running through it, and there was very dense undergrowth. Once you entered the bush, it was very slow going. It was not a pleasure to walk.

  Mr. Jarvis told us that if we were going to go into that bush, we had better decide ahead of time what we needed to take, how we would mark the trail, and set a realistic timeline for returning to the farm. We had to provide him with this information before he would let us go into the bush. That way he knew that we would take it seriously.

  I was at the store Saturday afternoon when, once again, Jay appeared to finalize our hiking plan for his dad. Like last time, he arrived about 10 minutes after thr
ee, just after my mom had gone home. We decided we would pack our knapsacks with drinks and chocolate bars for a snack and each carry a knife to carve arrows on the trees to mark our trail. We planned to wear long-sleeved shirts turned up around our neck, our socks pulled up over the bottoms of our pants, work boots, and caps. Jay left the store at about four and took our list back to his dad for approval. We wanted to show his dad we were serious. I told Jay I would come over to his house around 7:30 to see what the verdict was. With that, Jay was out the door.

  When I got to their door that evening, Jay answered it with his dad standing behind him. His dad gave us the thumbs up sign.

  Wow! Mission accomplished!

  Monday, May 21

  WE WERE BACK AT THE farm again and Jay and I were keen to get started.

  “Well boys,” said Uncle Herbert, “I hear you have a grand adventure planned. You need to be careful. It’s easy to say ‘I’m going into the woods and I’ll be back in a while’, but it’s a much more difficult chore than you think. I’ve only been a short way into that bush myself. After the first 50 yards I started to get confused so I turned around and came back out. I have no more desire to go in there.

  “Do you have any idea where you’re going? Do you know what direction that tree is?”

  “From here in the farmyard, we have a pretty good idea,” I said.

  Jay took out the map he’d made for our assignment. “This is where we’re standing now,” he said, pointing at the map. “You can see on the map there’s a line of sight that runs across the land not far from where we’re standing. That line of sight runs from the first sighting location we used last Sunday to the big tree. We figure that the line of sight intersects the bush about 100 yards from where we are now. So if we follow the edge of the bush for about 100 yards from here, we’ll be at the spot where we should enter the bush. Once we enter the bush, we’ll do our best to stay pointed in that direction. We’re planning to use the sun to keep track of it.”

  Uncle Herbert roared with laughter. A little too hard, I thought. I think he surprised even himself.

  “That’s one of the worst plans I’ve ever heard,” he said.

  Joel and I were taken aback.

  “You boys ever been in a bush before?” he said, chortling. “Once you get in that bush you may never see the sun. I hope you have a compass.”

  Despite our careful planning, our lack of an outdoor education meant we forgot to include a compass in our basic supplies.

  “Boys, you can’t go into that bush without a compass,” said Jay’s dad.

  It looked like our plans would be on hold. Maybe for a week.

  “That’s not a problem,” said Herbert, speaking up. “I have a compass and it’s a good one. Just don’t lose it on your journey.”

  Before he would turn over the compass, Uncle Herbert made us take 15 minutes’ worth of practical compass education using the neighbour’s barn as a landmark. I guess we passed the test because he said: “I think you’ll be okay with that compass.” And then he inquired: “Are you going to hold hands when you go in the woods?”

  We both showed some obvious discomfort at that question.

  “What do you mean?” I stammered.

  At that, Herbert and Jay’s dad both roared with laughter. This seemed to be an afternoon full of fun for them.

  “It’s okay,” Herbert chuckled. “The point is, if you don’t have something connecting the two of you, you may easily get separated and lost. That often leads to tragedy in a bush like this. You’re going to need a rope that ties the two of you together. I suggest a length of approximately 15 feet.”

  We looked at him with new respect. We could tell he knew what he was talking about. Joel’s dad had been getting pretty nervous about the whole thing, but when he saw we were taking Herbert seriously, he seemed to be okay. Now we were really ready to go. Jay and I headed out along the edge of the bush.

  “Hold on,” said Herbert, stalling us again. “Do either of you know how to use a shotgun?”

  Once more, Herbert had surprised us. Jay’s uncle was full of surprises.

  “I can use a shotgun,” I said. “I’ve been out with my dad shooting a couple of times.”

  “What do they need a shotgun for?” said Jay’s dad. “I don’t want them killing game out there. I really don’t want them shooting in the bush.”

  “They won’t be able to see any game anyway,” said Herbert. “But a shotgun can be a very important safety device. They’ll only use it if they get lost or run into a problem. They are absolutely not to shoot that gun under any other circumstance. A shot from that gun is a signal for a search party to set out after them as soon as possible. Two shots in a row mean someone is injured. After the initial shot, they’re to fire a shot every 15 minutes. That way, the search party can zero in on them.”

  Now Uncle Herbert was getting to us. We were getting pretty nervous about the whole darn thing.

  Herbert left for a minute and then he came back with the shotgun and a box of shells. I looked at Jay.

  “We thought we had a good solid plan,” I said. “But your uncle has helped us an awful lot to fill in some pretty important details.”

  “That’s true.” Jay turned to his uncle. “Thanks a lot, Uncle Herbert. You’re a real expert.”

  We set off once more along the edge of the bush, and this time the adults let us go. Uncle Herbert was beaming and Jay’s dad was smiling. They both hollered goodbye and reminded us to be careful, adding that they had too many women to answer to if anything happened to us. We turned around and waved and then started off into the bush.

  THE FIRST 5 YARDS WASN’T too bad; we could still see the farmyard. After another 5 yards, we realized that we were having trouble seeing the edge of the bush, the place where we had entered.

  The bush was densely overgrown, full of fallen trees and undergrowth. Most of the trees met at the top to form a canopy that in most places let in little light. Gradually, however, our eyes grew accustomed to the dimness. It was so dark that, despite the daylight, the bush seemed menacing. From time to time there were places where the trees weren’t packed quite so tight and the visibility momentarily improved, but I was glad it was only two in the afternoon and a clear bright day. I wouldn’t have wanted to try this in the dark.

  We decided we’d better mark a tree about every 20 feet. We used a knife to make a mark on the reasonable-size trees near the trail, but we also snapped as many small trees along the way as we could. It was very slow going. Jay had previously estimated that we had a little over a mile to go in this direction before we reached the hill that held the big tree, but at the rate we were going, I began to wonder whether we would have enough time to get to the landmark and back to the farmyard on time. Before leaving the farmyard, it had been agreed that we should be back by 4:30 PM at the latest. We kept stumbling along, going as quickly as we dared, and it was about as difficult a thing as I had ever done. We were in the middle of nowhere, heading towards a large tree that we couldn’t even see. It was an uncomfortable feeling, almost frightening.

  After half an hour, we stopped for a drink and a piece of chocolate bar and to check our bearings. Though we were tired and a little nervous, we didn’t want to give up. We realized that this was really quite an adventure and to satisfy ourselves we had to make it to the big tree. We talked about how well planned we’d thought our trip was before uncle Herbert showed us what real planning was about, and about how lucky we were to have had his advice. The break and the sugar gave us some of our spunk back. We would persevere.

  It was a real slog. After another 10 minutes, we came across a poorly defined trail. It didn’t look like a walking trail. Though Jay’s uncle had said there were no animals in the bush, Jay said:

  “It looks like a deer trail.”

  “If it is, it’s good news,” I said hopefully. “It probably leads someplace a deer wants to go. It may even be someplace we want to go. Somewhere sensible, such as an open space, or to water. Le
t’s follow it for a while, but keep an eye on our compass, too. We’ll see whether this trail takes us roughly in the direction we want to go.”

  So we followed the trail. It was easier going and we made better time. We became a little concerned when, after a few minutes, the trail seemed to be veering away from our target. We decided we would follow the path another five minutes and then check the compass and reassess whether we were headed in the right direction. At the end of the five minutes, when we rechecked, the path had curved back in the direction we wanted to go. Evidently, the deer were smarter than we were.

  We’d been walking now for almost an hour and we still hadn’t come to any kind of rise in the land. It seemed like an awful long time to spend going a mile; but then, this wasn’t easy terrain. It wasn’t just the dense growth, either; the land seemed to rise and fall irregularly, and the ups and downs were really noticeable once you were in the bush. But we plodded on, undaunted, and about 10 minutes later Jay stopped and held up his hand.

  “I think we’re starting to go uphill,” he said.

  “Look ahead to the right,” I said as we soldiered on. “I know you can’t see very far, but doesn’t it look a little brighter?”

  We set off towards that brighter area. The land continued to rise and within another five minutes we were breaking into a clearing.

  Hallelujah!

  We ran and jumped around that open glade like little kids at Christmas. We’d made it! We were on the hill and the big tree was only 50 yards away!