The Other Things

by Jonathan Dransfield

  In the campsite slightly up the hill stood the three converted camper vans – a red one, a yellow one and a green one. Each had a small cylindrical trailer carrying water and provisions to last two weeks. Their newly painted exteriors looked as fresh as when they left the production line in the 1970s.

  Magnus had been galvanised when he received his brief and enthusiastically set to transforming the vans into his vision of a space ship interior (also circa 1970), each van gaining a cylindrical lining blocking out the windows, apart from four inset ship’s portholes. The red van sported an immaculately finished white fibreglass shell, with moulded storage pockets and two fold-down beds (inspired by 2001: A Space Odyssey). He lavished so much time on the first that he was running out of time and materials, so the blue van now had a thin aluminium checker-plate skin, with two fold-down tubular-framed beds and the third bed fixed in the pop-top roof (Red Dwarf or Doctor Who). The green one he couldn’t complete and just applied several coats of Danish oil in 4mm marine ply backing. The six beds here was his challenge. He fitted a three-seater rock-n-roll bed and two canvas bunks in the pop top, and one hammock was slung in the driving cabin (Dark Star).

  Iceland Geysers

  Between the front two seats was a big steel enclosure. It contained ‘his box of tricks’, where the van could be controlled remotely or by the on-board computer. The dashboard held a series of glowing buttons and USB ports.

  The red van was for ‘The Right Stuff’, the blue for ‘The Elves’, and the green for ‘The Other Things’.

  By accident he’d discovered that the thin stressed ply skin, like a De Havilland Mosquito, was the most weight/cost/strength-efficient material and would subsequently be used for all future missions.

  Each team took possession of their vehicles and examined them in depth. The kids’ understandable hesitancy was broken by Bheki who’d been watching out for himself for as long as he knew.

  ‘What you waiting for?’ he called while frantically signing his instructions.

  ‘He’s a waste-man or what!’ Mo whispered to Buzz.

  This awakened something in Buzz.

  ‘He’s my buddy so butt out! He’s signing, you dumbo!’

  Mo bristled. ‘We’re not deaf, though.’

  ‘Hey, it’s cool, I’ve been learning it. We don’t want them listening to everything.’

  Mo suddenly saw the merits in it. ‘OK, teach me a sign.’

  Buzz was about to unfurl his middle finger, when Bheki grabbed him and paired him with Chao-xing.

  He split them into three pairs; Buzz and Chao-xing checked out the front drivers’ cabin, Mo and Enza the rear accommodation and Bheki and Elin the engine and the trailer.

  By the time they had finished they’d composed a list of questions and a compendium of their kit and provisions.

  Then the arguments started, the big issue… who got which bed.

  ‘I’m sleeping in the back,’ shouted Mo.

  ‘You go in front,’ instructed Bheki.

  ‘No, I’m there!’ cut in Buzz.

  Through the shrill voices, Enza put her foot down. She understood the psychology of boys. ‘You boys can sleep together on the big bed.’

  ‘No way!’ they replied in unison. ‘We’re having the bunks.’

  The boys soon sorted out their precarious perches in the front. The girls got the big comfortable bed.

  Buzz and Chao-xing eyed each other suspiciously while struggling with the controls.

  ‘It’s just the same as Granf’s camper except for the big box.’

  ‘Is this the engine?’ she asked as she opened a side hatch, only to find nothing but electronics.

  ‘Don’t worry, there’s a spare one in the trunk,’ consoled Buzz.

  Chao-xing joined him vainly trying to turn the enamelled steering wheel. Suddenly the door sprang open and the beaming face of Magnus thrust itself into the cabin.

  ‘Oh no, that’s far too last century! Here’s your controls!’

  To their delight he pulled out an Xbox console and plugged it into the USB port on the dash. The lights immediately flashed and Magnus explained the functions.

  ‘I’ll guide you tomorrow until you get the hang of it.’ Buzz beamed.

  Chao-xing’s eyes filled with a red mist. She thought the West was the bastion of human rights and equality. ‘Hey, where’s mine? Are you sexist, or what!’

  Mo and Enza opened up the central cupboards. Enza was enthralled by its neatness. Dwarfed in her restaurant kitchen, this was just her size.

  ‘Una piccola cucina,’ she giggled, seeing the tiny hob and sink under the worktop. She took out all the utensils and pots and pans and made a mental list of what was missing. She might be artistic, but in the kitchen she was organised.

  Mo was rooting in the storage and sorting through the maps, tools and the boots. Then he discovered a walkie-talkie. His dad had given him a shortwave radio, so they could communicate anywhere in the world. The crackle of his signal would bring joy into Alim’s loneliest days when stuck in some wilderness. Mo loved radios.

  Enza clapped her hands. ‘We do this together!’ They pulled out six bags. There were warm clothes and waterproofs for all of them. Mo examined the waterproofs with the motto, ‘No such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing.’

  Bheki and Elin were busy out the back. Bheki made a beeline for the engine. Elin started to unload the kit from the trailer, as a faint shower from the geyser settled on them every few minutes.

  Tents, backpacks, sleeping bags and food containers bounced down on the deck. ‘Va! It’s just like a real expedition,’ she shouted at Bheki’s bottom, his head still buried in the trunk. Then she banged on the side panel and he turned his head. ‘Va! It’s just like a real expedition,’ she said again.

  ‘It is a real expedition,’ answered Bheki. Turning back, he pointed. ‘This engine is just like Mr Herman’s!’

  Elin was unimpressed. ‘Hey, Bheki, come and help me now. We have to make sure we have everything.’

  In half an hour the children got together in the back of the van and made their list and set off in the gloaming light to see what they could find at the centre.

  As they neared the road a distinct clop of hooves cut through the air. From up the valley a parade of a dozen Icelandic horses broke across their path. Two riders guided them along the slushy road to the shelter of the lower pastures. The children gazed in wonder at the stocky herd until it diminished into a series of dots in the mist.

  By the canteen and gift shop was an outward bound emporium and the children shopped in pairs. Bheki raided the clothes with Chao-xing, buying six pairs of gloves, hats, angora vests and scarves. Elin and Mo bought a ground sheet, torches, gas canisters and a compass. Enza and Buzz stocked up on supplies, including lots of chocolate and a packet of Icelandic salt.

  Laden with their booty, Elin and Chao-xing caught the familiar sight of their mothers rooting through the other camper. It felt strange to be so close yet separated.

  Mo was envious. He hadn’t seen his mother in years and his father’s sporadic visits were never enough. Buzz recognised his angst, as he was beginning to gain some empathy.

  ‘What’s up?’

  Mo put on a brave face. ‘I miss my ma.’

  Buzz welled up, he’d never even seen his dad and Bheki spotted it. ‘What’s up, man?’

  Buzz shook his head as Mo explained, ‘We miss our parents.’

  Bheki thought for a moment. ‘Never had any. I miss my brother, though.’

  There was a roar of laughter outside as the kids ate their first meal. Mo’s head snapped round to the porthole. ‘Do we need bikes?’ he exclaimed as he saw two hulking astronauts careering past them festooned with shopping bags.

  Elin peered out and sniggered. ‘Not where we’re going!’

  To the soft, low murmur of the wind the children settled down.

  Then Enza sat up. ‘Where’s the toilet?’

  This had been lost on them all except Elin. ‘On the sid
e of the trailer!’

  ‘Yuck, I can’t go there,’ objected the girl.

  ‘No, that’s just where the shovel is!’ said Elin.

  Nobody slept. The thrill of it all kept them awake until the early hours.

  When Magnus’s bushy beard poked in, they were waking, bleary-eyed. ‘Off we go in twenty minutes – got everything?’

  Bheki had discovered the tell-tale boom of an empty water tank when returning the shovel. ‘Water!’ he piped up.

  The narrow tarmac road forked some miles from the centre, where they were the last to pull off onto a cinder track, which snaked across the low hills following a string of pylons.

  Magnus went through the controls with both Buzz and Xing (as they now called her) for the last time. ‘Remember, don’t stop in the rivers.’

  He waved warmly as he left them to the monochrome landscape.

  Four faces peered over the seat backs as Buzz and Xing restarted the engine. Mo had been studying the maps and co-ordinates. He laid the map on the silver housing between the drivers. ‘Here’s the route, innit!’ His finger traced its way along the faint grey line skirting the contours and crossing the rivers. ‘We take a right in about half a mile.’

  This was a maintenance track for the electricity company. Here the thin Earth’s crust provides an endless supply of steam and a spider’s web of power lines spread out from the geothermal areas.

  The old bus trundled along with the trailer clattering from rut to rut. Bheki just stared out. America had been different, Africa was familiar, but here was crazy. It was cold, the light was blue and without trees. It was as if the land had just been born.

  His Earth had an ancient past, where their ancestors’ spirits were laid down like strata. In this place no one had lived, the only spirits were of the land itself. He watched the gravel-strewn ground pass him by and surprisingly it excited him.

  He had dreamed of escaping his orphanage and this was as different as it could get, except perhaps Mars itself.

  Suddenly they lurched to a stop. Bheki sensed they were on an incline and he joined the scrum at the front, staring at the white-and-green-laced river ahead. ‘Mo, you’re useless, the road’s run out,’ wavered Buzz. It had been taxing enough driving on the rough track by Xbox control, but a raging river cutting across their path was impossible with no press and leap command.

  Bheki was not impressed. ‘Ach! Get on with it, man!’ Crossing rivers was not unknown to him. Neither were they to Elin.

  ‘Mummia just puts her foot down!’

  Buzz was more cautious. He ran the van to the water’s edge and stared into the depths, fearing what may lurk in the tumbling foam. ‘I think we’ll need to wade across and check.’

  Xing turned to him. ‘Under the rear seat there’s a depth gauge.’

  Buzz tumbled over to the seat backs and then crashed into the padding as the van lurched forward.

  Xing was going for it.

  ‘Just don’t stop, that’s all!’ cheered Bheki, and the van cut through the frothing mass. The waters deepened as unseen rocks deflected the van and the electronics struggled to cope with the jarring obstructions.

  ‘Easy, easy, don’t over compensate.’ Xing kept a steady thumb on the accelerator button, then as suddenly as they entered, they reared up on the far side to the whoops and clamour of all except a sulking Buzz.

  ‘My turn next!’ was all he said as he snatched back the controller.

  They emerged into a long, flat valley with a line of mountains along its flanks. The brooding presence of Helka dominated the landscape and as Elin had told them of its imminent eruption, they urged Buzz on and were relieved to leave it diminishing in the rear mirrors, except Enza who wondered what all the fuss was about.

  Helka

  ‘Gateway to hell’

  South Iceland

  63.6N 19.4W

  Altitude: 4,882ft

  Geology: Stratovolcano

  The track was now a pumice ribbon meandering through a boulder-strewn plain, devoid of all vegetation and fringed with great drifts of tephra swept up against the jagged escarpments.

  As they headed higher up the valley, it softened into faded greens of tough grasses and lichens among the pristine snow drifts. The sharp peaks gave way to rounded summits dappled with year-long scabs of ice. Mo guided them and to his relief a wide lake appeared to confirm his navigation. ‘Nearly there!’

  Over the narrow pass they threaded down to the wide, flat campsite at Landmannalaugar, with an icy glacial river sweeping to the left and the chaotic line of frozen lava flows to the right. They joined the two lonely camper vans on the hard standing beside the green-roofed huts.

  Their journey had taken the best part of the day and the weather was unwelcoming. Bheki and Elin shivered as they stretched their legs outside the van. ‘Are we ever going to be warm again?’ stammered Bheki as he surveyed the raw chemical colours of the surrounding peaks.

  ‘Grab a towel everyone!’ Elin shouted and she skipped off along a long boardwalk towards a patch of rising vapour.

  If they’d been wondering where the others had got to, they were enlightened by the happy chatter of ‘The Right Stuff’ and ‘The Elves’ getting acquainted. Their voices drifted over from the steaming hot waters that flowed out of the lava flow’s margins.

  Xing shivered as she stripped on the wet wooden platform. The cold air pierced into her bones until a line of enveloping warmth spread upwards as she lowered herself down the slippery ladder into the welcoming water. Crouching down, she luxuriated in the comfort of the crystal clear water as she half swam, half crawled towards her mother’s arms.

  The others waddled behind like little ducks until they reached the point where it was hot enough to just bear.

  This oasis is fed by seeping springs from the old lava flow, its core still scalding hot years after it solidified on the edge of the valley.

  Mo’s mind wandered as he relaxed. In front of him the hills glowed with sulphurous yellows and iron reds, to his back the ragged black basaltic cliff towered ominously. He pinched himself to check he wasn’t dreaming and then luxuriated in the sense of being anywhere but home.

  In the predawn glow Eugene was brimming with confidence. A natural early riser he was the first to bump into Magnus as he prepared to waken the troops and gather them for a briefing.

  There was little time, as they had to set off at dawn. He made them check their walkie-talkies, each with a built-in twenty-minute delay, only to be overridden in dire emergencies.

  Their vehicles were left ship-shape for the autonomous drive to the rendezvous at the end of the hike.

  The children checked their backpacks, adjusting the weight of the clothes, camping gear, water, food and cooking equipment which bore down on their diminutive frames.

  Eugene Claymore and Felix Owen were pleased with themselves. The old stagers, with many months in space between them, revelled in their moniker ‘The Right Stuff’ and were convinced they had an ace up their sleeve.

  ‘With these bikes we’ll do this hike in two days. We’re going to leave them in our dust!’ Eugene shouted as he checked them over.

  ‘What could possibly go wrong?’ Felix replied.

  Without hesitation, ‘Two years in space with you!’ Eugene gave him a large grin.

  Felix had another plan. ‘We’re going on a diet by the way!’

  ‘Huh! And how will that help, pray?’ Eugene attempted to balance his backpack on the rear rack of the bicycle.

  ‘The weight limit’s 31 stone. If we lost a bit of weight, we could take one of the women with us, the scientist!’ He gave a wry smile.

  Eugene was still struggling with his balancing act. ‘You should have got some panniers. By the way, what’s with the snotty kids?’

  Felix gave a dismissive shrug. ‘No worries about them, man! It’s just a bit of PC bullshit.’

  They set off in twenty-minute intervals, the half-light barely illuminating the well-worn track among the chaotic basalt b
oulders.

  ‘The Other Things’ followed in the tracks of ‘The Elves’. Once through the maze of the lower lava field they climbed up onto the limbs of the hills. Plumes of steam condensed in the morning air as they emerged like troops in a battle.

  It took time to become accustomed to the heavy backpacks. Elin helped with the adjustments, making them more tolerable. Today they were at their heaviest, with four days’ food weighing them down.

  Eventually they stopped on a rock-strewn plateau and the sight they beheld was enthralling. The empty interior of the island spread out behind them, with the milky green river far below as it wound out into the plains beyond. Ahead of them seemed like another planet.

  The buff weather-worn gullies were topped with a patchwork of mosses, lichens and mini ice fields. Ahead they could make out the three figures of ‘The Elves’ and way down the valley the wind just carried the curses of ‘The Right Stuff’ as they dragged their bikes up the unforgiving path.

  Every so often, Elin picked up a rock and examined it before casting it aside or surreptitiously slipping it into Buzz’s backpack.

  Enza clicked away with her camera. Mo and Xing were up front, map in hand as they marched along the route. Bheki kept watch for wild animals.

  Famished from their exertions, they huddled on a ring of rocks for a lunch of ‘Everest Brod’ and sausage and cheese. Bheki started teaching them signing and named familiar items as they followed his hands.

  Up the track there was a stone-scattering rumble and the Eugene and Felix flew past, waving from their mountain bikes.

  Buzz watched enviously they peddled into the distance. ‘I guess it’s what adults do and we’re just kids!’ he signed, as he tried to pick up his pack.

  He thought of his own bike lying useless in the garage and the hollow promise from Boyf to mend it one day.

  Mo was not used to hiking. Elin had a spring in her step and he had a leak in his boot. A real challenge for a city boy, he found himself lagging behind the others, apart from Buzz, whose pack seemed to have gained weight.