Within minutes the canoe was grounded on the small sandy beach and quickly tied off to a small tree.
Once on dry land, they exchanged life preservers for survival vests and belts and kept their rifles handy. Karen and Meri walked upriver, scouting the best route to take the canoe while Bill remained behind.
When they returned Karen said, “I think the easiest way is to tow the canoe through the water. It doesn’t look too rough. Just rough enough to prevent us from paddling, though.
“Grab your packs and paddles. The only things I want left in this thing while we’re towing it are those we can live without.”
Backpacks were thrown on backs, and paddles were strapped to the packs. Meri offered to keep watch while Karen and Bill towed the much-lightened canoe upriver. It didn’t take long before they were over the rapids. That wasn’t too hard, Bill thought when they had finished and were loading back up to continue their journey.
Over the next fifteen kilometers, they repeated the process numerous times. Some of the rapids were more like actual falls, albeit small and taking the canoe through the water was not an option. In those cases, they dragged the canoe upriver on land, which wasn’t as easy as they hoped it would be. Unlike a modern composite or aluminum boat, the wood canoe was heavy, weighing several hundred kilograms. Dragging it uphill took all three of them.
After three days of navigating and portaging the rapids, the crew were finally above the fall line, out of the flat coastal plain and into the hilly piedmont of the Appalachian Mountains. The water, while still relatively flat and calm, had become just noticeably swifter due to the slight drop it experienced in its progress through the hills. It wasn’t fast enough to appreciably slow them down; just enough to tire them out faster.
The volume of the river decreased, and the hills to either side of them grew larger until they were passing through small mountains. When the water got shallow enough that the paddles were scraping the riverbed, they switched to poles. Usually, one would pole, standing up, while the other two sat, bows in hand, keeping an eye out for any unwary game that could be converted to supper. They had fresh meat just about every night, with leftovers and jerky the following day.
Eventually, they got to the point in the river where exposed rocks were difficult to navigate around and the water was too shallow for the canoe while they were sitting in it. As the plan was to drag the canoe from the Roanoke River to the New River, they had to make a decision: continue upstream to the chosen takeout spot, or leave it and make another when they arrive at the next river. They elected to tow it upriver as far as possible. Thank God! I didn’t want to dig out another damned canoe, Bill thought.
Two days later, Bill wasn’t so sure that had been the best choice. They had reached the headwaters of the Roanoke, and the water was now too low to even tow the canoe. The vegetation was crowding the area of what had effectively become a small creek, to the point where it was difficult walking through it. After several hours of struggling through branches and being splashed in the face by water kicked up by walking, all while pulling a heavy canoe in the summer heat and humidity, Karen said “Let’s stop and set up camp. I want to revisit the whole ‘drag the canoe 20 klicks overland’ thing.” She looked pointedly up at the mountains hemming them in.
They established camp, strung hammocks, and set out the standard trip-wire. So far, it hadn’t been set off by any animals since they arrived on Ti’ichem, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be in the future.
Because they had been walking and towing a heavy canoe for the past two days, their hunting opportunities had been limited. Bill offered to supplement the dwindling meat supply with fish.
“Heck, these types of rivers are what fly fishing was made for,” he said, strengthening his argument.
Karen relented, agreeing to stand watch while both Bill and Meri fished. The two found some small pools well within eyesight of each other and proceeded to cast into them. It didn’t take long before Meri had a fish on, followed by Bill. Within a half hour, they had a sufficient quantity of fish for supper. They had also managed to capture several crayfish to supplement their meal.
Karen offered to start the fire and suggested Meri and Bill use the small river to wash up in. They took advantage of the break to get the day’s mud off them and wash their sweaty clothing. After changing into dry clothes, Bill took over the watch duty to allow Karen to wash up and do laundry. When Karen was done, the fire had burned down to coals, ideal for grilling the night’s meal.
The talk over the fire that evening centered on the next river’s journey, and the question of towing the dugout from one river to another. All agreed that towing it upriver in a small stream was hard enough, and trying to get it through the forest and over rough terrain would probably be too much for them.
“So, what are our options?” Meri asked. “Another dugout?”
“I don’t know about you two, but I’m kind of tired of digging out canoes,” Bill said. “What about a regular canoe with bark or skin?”
Looking around the small clearing, Meri said, “Just sayin’, but I don’t see any birch trees hereabouts.”
“I agree, no birch trees,” Karen said. “That means skin, which we’re pretty much out of. So, how much time would it take to hack out a new dugout instead of killing enough game and curing enough skins, and then making a skin canoe?”
“Hmm, couple of days to soak the skins, a couple of days to tan, and maybe one to smoke,” Bill said. “Figure a couple of days to build the actual canoe. About a week. Same as making a heavy dugout. On top of that, we’d get a lot of food out of it, not just wood chunks.”
Karen looked thoughtful. “It probably makes sense to haul everything over to the New River and then do our hunting over there. Even though we’ve pared our equipment down, we’ve still got a bunch of stuff to haul as it is.”
“You think one travois will suffice?” Meri asked.
“I do,” said Bill.
“Me, too,” agreed Karen. “So, tomorrow, let’s make a single travois, load it up, and head cross country to the New River.”
“What if we see something along the way, like an elk or deer?” Meri asked.
“Only shoot something large if we come across it. Otherwise, the plan is to get to the river ASAP. We’ll set up base and do all our preps there.”
37
It took them the better part of two days to make it from the Roanoke River to the New River, most of it through old growth forest and rough terrain. Occasionally they would come to an open spot, and at one of these glades, Meri managed to down an elk with her bow. The skin was thrown on the travois, which Bill was dragging, along with enough meat to sustain them for another day. Wrapped inside the skin was the animal’s brain, to be used to tan the hide.
Man, am I glad we decided not to drag that boat this way, Bill thought, as he struggled to drag the travois through the forest.
They finally arrived at the New River a couple of hours before sunset. By now they had been trekking for a bit over two and a half months, so setup went quickly. Hammocks, trip wire, fire. Supper consisted of elk stew, which Meri made while Karen began soaking the elk hide in the river. She did so by setting the skin in the river and covering it with large rocks.
“If it floats away, we’ll just kill another elk,” she said, inspecting her handiwork.
The evening’s discussion was on how to best do everything. They needed to hunt, but they also needed to cut down enough wood to construct the frame. Any of these, by themselves, wasn’t an issue. The issue became who would remain watchful while the others did the work. While they hadn’t been attacked by anything since leaving the Caribbean, that didn’t mean threats had gone away.
“It kinda makes no sense to have somebody at camp building stuff if the hides aren’t ready in the first place,” Bill said. “I’m thinkin’ we should all hunt together. Once we’ve got enough hides soaking and tanning, we can build the frame.”
“Bill’s right,” Meri s
aid. “We’re struggling enough just keeping watch. Splitting up and trying to get everything done would just become crazy. Especially with the kinds of dangerous animals we’re facing here. Ti’icham’s got several types of bears, cats, and wolves. And that’s not even counting the venomous snakes we need to watch out for.”
“It’s settled, then,” Karen said. “From now on, we stick together. But anytime we leave this campsite, we take all our primary and secondary survival gear. The lifeboat stuff can stay, but I don’t want any of us caught out there needing something that might have been left behind. Is that clear?” she asked the others. Meri and Bill nodded.
Hunting began in earnest early the next morning. The trio donned all their survival gear and headed out, leaving the campfire smoldering. Nobody was worried about a wildfire; rather, the concern was that some wild animals would come into the camp and take the one skin they had.
All three carried bows that had been made during the Atlantic crossing, but Bill’s was slung over his shoulder while he carried his rifle at the ready. The team traveled in an inverted V-formation, with Meri and Karen in front and Bill trailing behind them. His job was to provide security, so as they moved, he was constantly looking forward, to the sides, up in the trees, and behind them. Fortunately, the two women were walking slow, in the method they learned during survival training as “still hunting.” Each of them would take a couple of slow steps, gently placing their foot down and putting their weight on that foot. After two or three steps they would stop, slowly move their heads around to look for game, then proceed in the same manner.
They had been at it for some time when they finally approached a large clearing. Bill could see charred stumps of trees; the clearing had been made by fire. Grass in the clearing and a lack of burnt wood smell meant that the fire had happened a year or two ago. I’m betting this was a lightning strike fire last year, Bill thought.
Across the clearing, they could see a small herd of elk, headed up by a monster bull with an amazing set of antlers. They rivaled the ones that Bill had seen on the Roosevelt elk he had been used to seeing on Earth. Though, nobody here cared about the antlers.
Karen whispered a quick plan to Bill and Meri, then she and Meri began the stalk. Bill made sure the tree above him was predator-free before leaning against the giant bole, biding his time while the women made their way closer to the herd.
The stalk was slow and silent. Occasionally, one or another elk would raise its head and look at one of the women. When the women saw an elk head start to rise, they would freeze in place, barely even breathing. It took almost a half hour, but finally, Meri and Karen were in place.
Bill slowly raised his rifle and sighted down it while the women slowly brought their bows up and drew the strings back. Bill made sure to keep both eyes open so he could see at least one of the women while also keeping an elk in his sights. As soon as he saw Karen loose her arrow, he fired.
The elk Bill had chosen dropped like a rock. The rest of the herd, startled by the shot, stampeded into the forest away from him. Immediately after firing, Bill took his rifle off his shoulder, charging it in the way he had learned during Explorer firearms training: bolt handle slammed up, bolt drawn forcefully back, a quick glance down to see the spent casing eject and a fresh cartridge move up to load into the barrel, forceful action of pushing the bolt forward, and a final action of slamming the bolt handle down, locking the bolt in place. All of this was done in less than a second and without a conscious thought.
Bill looked around, conducting a quick threat assessment, then finding no threat near him, did the same for the women. Once satisfied that all was good, he left his position and started making his way across the clearing to where Meri and Karen were standing.
It only took him a couple of minutes until he had joined the women.
“How’d it go?” he asked.
“We’ve got two blood trails. One looks like it’s lung shot, and the other might be a heart shot. We’ll know more in about twenty minutes” Karen said. “In the meantime, let’s get this one skinned.”
The two women worked to skin the dead animal while Bill maintained watch. It didn’t take long, particularly since they were only after the skin and brains. Meat was secondary. Afterwards, the women helped each other wash blood off their hands with their canteens.
Meri grabbed the rolled-up skin with the brains tucked inside it and strapped it to the outside of Bill’s pack. “Let’s go get the others.”
They carried their rifles: the need for safety superseded the need to save ammunition. Unstringing their bows, they stashed them on their packs. The bowstrings went in their pockets.
The second elk they found was the one that was shot through the heart. It hadn’t gone too far before bleeding out. As with the first, it was only a matter of minutes before it was skinned and the brains collected. This time Bill had the pleasure of cleaning the game with Meri while Karen stood watch.
After cleaning it, he wrapped the brains in the skin, and strapped the load to Karen’s pack.
They backtracked to the clearing to track down the final kill. Finding the third elk took some time, as it traveled quite some distance. They followed the drops of frothy blood it left on the ground, the grass, and leaves of low-lying bushes. Finally, after more than a half hour, they came across the body of the elk. Unfortunately, it wasn’t alone.
An American lion, larger by one-third than Earth’s comparable African lion, was gnawing on the kill. As he spotted the humans, he laid his ears back and issued a throaty grumble.
“Crap. Big and mean, and on our kill,” Karen muttered.
“We need that skin,” Meri said in a quiet voice, aiming her rifle at the large cat. In fact, all three had their rifles aimed at the lion.
“Hold on. Let’s do this a little different. How’re your peeder skills, Bill?” Karen asked, referring to his shooting ability with his PDW.
“What are you thinking?”
“Can you take him out with a head shot?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he said.
Keeping her rifle trained on the growling creature, Karen said, “Do it. We’ll provide cover.”
Holding his rifle in one hand, Bill shrugged out of his pack and set it on the ground. With his free hand, he unstrapped the PDW. Setting his rifle down on the pack, all the while eying the lion, he checked the PDW to verify it was loaded, extended the stock, then brought it up to his shoulder.
Taking careful aim through the low power scope, he sighted in on the large cat’s eye. He quietly said, “On three.” When he got to the number, he shot.
The bullet went exactly where Bill aimed, into the lion’s eye, through the eye socket, and into the brain. The poor beast never knew what hit him, and dropped dead instantly. All three Explorers breathed very audible sighs of relief.
“Looks like we’ve got another skin,” Meri said. She turned to Bill, she said with a huge smile. “You caught it. You clean it.”
The four elk and one lion skin proved more than sufficient to clad the canoe. Branches were lopped off nearby trees and carved to form the ribs, and the tanned hides were applied over the frame. Pitch from nearby pine trees was used to seal the holes from where the hides were stitched together. To Bill, it seemed the pitch was also used to cement his fingers together. Only with vigorous rubbing with sand, which also took away some skin, was he able to remove it.
A week had passed, and finally, the canoe was ready. It was now late August, still summer in the piedmont, but it was slowly fading into fall in the mountains. Through gaps in the trees caused by the river, Bill could see the leaves on the tops of nearby mountains changing. As he helped load the canoe for their journey down the river, Bill said, “Looks like summer’s just about over.”
Meri and Karen followed his gaze.
“Well, at least we’ll be done with the heat, humidity, and mosquitoes soon,” Karen said, as a bead of sweat dripped off her nose.
Bill was more worried about the coming col
d than he was about mosquitoes. According to his reckoning, they still had over six months of travel ahead of them, the last three taking place deep in the continent where sub-zero temperatures could be expected to last for weeks during the late winter. He scratched his chin and thought, Well, at least my face’ll stay warm with this fuzz I’m growing.
The equipment loaded, the Explorers boarded the canoe and continued their westward journey.
“It seems strange to be moving into the mountains and not fighting the current,” Bill said. The others agreed, looking at the rising terrain around them. Their seating arrangements were the same as the trip up the Roanoke — Meri up front with a bow, Karen in the middle, and Bill steering from the stern. Karen and Meri both had their rifles slung over their backs, while Bill kept his PDW close to hand, slung across his chest. His rifle was strapped to his pack, which, like the other packs, rested in the bottom of the canoe, strapped down in the event of a capsize. All three wore their survival belts, vests, and life preservers.
Bill was surprised at the different handling of the skin and frame canoe compared to the dugouts. He could feel its nimbleness and with each stroke of the paddle, its lightness. It was also slightly tipsier, he noticed. But still, it rode well and practically leaped forward when he dug his paddle into the swift waters. It was nice traveling downriver. Not only was it easier, despite the muscles they had built up rowing against the Roanoke’s current, but faster. The landscape seemed to rush by them as they made their way westward, cutting through mountains.
A bit over four hours later they had entered the cut between the first range of mountains. They stared in amazement at the steep mountains towering hundreds of meters above them. Not quite like the Alps, Bill thought, but still, intimidating enough.
The land around them was steep, and the current picked up, so Meri set her bow down, retrieved her paddle, and helped control the canoe.
They went through two more steep ridge cuts before entering an area of more scattered hills and mountains, with some flat land near where streams fed into the river. It was at one of these flat areas that Meri saw a small herd of deer. She motioned the other two to maneuver the canoe closer while she traded her paddle for her bow. Once within range, she loosed an arrow, bringing down a small doe. The other deer saw the animal fall, then noticed the approaching canoe and fled into the forest.
The Corps of Discovery Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3: A multiverse series of alternate history Page 40