Secret in the Clouds

by Christopher Cummings

  “Oh well, this is the spot to camp then,” Graham replied.

  “I can’t see a bloody thing,” Stephen said. He was shivering now, partly from the strain and stinging tree, but mostly from cold. ‘How can we camp here?’ he wondered. They seemed to be standing on a 45 degree slope.

  Graham took Roger’s penlight from his pocket and it gave a dim, eerie green glow. “Just after two. Be daylight in a few hours,” he said after checking his watch. Using the faint light he looked around. After a couple of minutes he called Stephen to join him. With a sweep of the penlight he indicated a small area several metres long which was relatively flat. “This will do. Let’s get a hutchie up.”

  With very mixed feelings Stephen dropped his pack. The relief was instantaneous, but was tempered by a deep sense of failure and guilt. ‘What if there are injured people up on top who die because we have stopped?’ he wondered. The feelings of dread and defeat were so strong he even suggested they go on.

  Graham shook his head. “No, we couldn’t do much anyway. Come on, help me tie this thing up. A rest will do us good. We are about half way up I reckon.”

  ‘Only half way!’ Stephen thought with dismay. He silently took the cord Graham handed him and then found he could not tie it because his eyes were filled with tears.

  “You OK mate?” Graham asked, moving over and putting a hand on his arm.

  “Can’t bloody see, that’s all,” Stephen replied, blaming it on his wet glasses.

  “That’s alright. Sit down and I’ll get this done,” Graham replied.

  Stephen slumped down on his pack feeling utterly exhausted and defeated.

  CHAPTER 3

  IN THE CLOUDS

  Within three minutes Graham had tied the four corners of the plastic shelter to trees. He then tossed his pack underneath the shelter and placed his webbing in beside it. Using the faint glow of the penlight he gestured and said, “Come on Steve, in you go and dry those glasses.”

  Stephen did as he was bid. With an effort he shoved his pack as far under as he could, then crawled in, dragging his webbing after him. He settled himself on his pack with his back to the wind and took off his hat, which was brushing the plastic overhead. The feeling of relief was immediate. All he could do for a minute was sit and let the tension drain out of him.

  Graham settled himself beside him and dug in his webbing for his hexamine stove. He cleared a space between his boots which was out of the wind, then positioned the small metal stove there. A hexamine tablet was placed in the stove and lit. Stephen found the striking of that match the most cheering thing that night. At once he felt better. It also made him aware that Graham could now see his face.

  ‘I’m a slug!’ he mentally berated himself. ‘Graham is carrying me. I must make an effort.’

  So he did. He forced a grin then began to dig in his own webbing for his toilet paper. As carefully as he could he extracted the plastic bag containing his toilet paper and peeled off several squares. He used these to gently wipe his glasses clean. By then the hexamine from Graham’s stove was well alight and lit up the shelter and surrounding area. Stephen placed his glasses back on and smiled with relief.

  Graham grinned back. “That was bloody hard work,” he commented.

  “You can say that again!” Stephen agreed. He was about to add that they were only half way up and had as much to do again when he realised that was a very negative comment. Instead he said, “We should find it a lot easier in daylight.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Graham agreed. He began pouring water into a mess tin to heat for coffee. Stephen realised he was shivering and that got him moving. He also took out his stove and lit it, then placed water on to heat. While that was happening he crouched and undid his pack to take out a pullover. This was wrapped in plastic so was quite dry, as was a spare shirt. With trembling fingers he unbuttoned his wet shirt and peeled it off.

  “What’s this then, a strip tease?” Graham said as he stirred the hot water into his cup.

  “Dream on! You haven’t thrown enough money,” Stephen replied.

  “Never liable to either,” Graham replied with a laugh “I’ve seen you without clothes on and it is not a pretty sight!”

  “Bite your bum!” Stephen retorted, but he laughed along with Graham. With sighs of relief he pulled on the dry shirt and then the pullover. That was almost bliss and he sat on his pack and stared at the tiny flames flickering under his mess tin and silently thanked God that he had such a good friend.

  A cup of hot chocolate helped restore him further. Graham offered him some chocolate and the pair sat and drank their hot drinks in silence. As they did Graham placed another half a hexamine tablet on his stove to keep the fire going. Stephen found that very cheering as it gave a small circle of light which also gave the illusion of safety and warmth.

  It was still raining heavily and swirls of cloud drifted in through the surrounding trees. The wind was coming from their left rear, around the side of the mountain. The main force of it was broken by the shape of the mountain and by the trees but it was still cold. The wind was also strong and shook the tree tops above them.

  Graham looked up at the plastic overhead. “Reminds me of that time we were caught by the cyclone in the jungle up the Mulgrave Valley,” he commented.

  Stephen nodded, remembering that awful test of endurance. It was partly the memory of how he had been left behind with the injured people because of his glasses that had made him so determined to climb the mountain this time. That time even Roger and Graham’s little sister Kylie, and her friend Margaret, had climbed up over the mountains in the storm. Graham had been the hero of the hour and the memory rankled. (See ‘Below Bartle Frere’ by C. R. Cummings).

  For a while Stephen sat holding the warm metal canteen cup in his hands and enjoying the pleasurable sensation. Then he realised he was actually shivering. Partly it was from strain but he also acknowledged that he was very cold. He said, “If we are going to be here for a few hours I am going to get out of these wet boots and socks and get into my sleeping bag.”

  “Good idea,” Graham agreed. “It’s bloody cold,” he added.

  “Summer time in the steaming tropical jungle,” Stephen replied with a wry smile. It was something they often commented on. They were only about 16 degrees south of the Equator yet were often cold when hiking in the rain forest.

  A couple of minutes work had stoves and cups packed away and ground sheets and sleeping bags unrolled. Doing this in the dark was something they had often done on cadet exercises so presented no particular problem, other than the drop in morale as the fires had been put out. Both boys then took off their boots and peeled off the sodden socks. That made them even colder so they quickly slipped into their sleeping bags. Almost at once it felt better. Stephen sighed with relief as warmth began to build up.

  “Good to get out of the wind,” he said.

  “Too bloody right!” Graham agreed, snuggling right down in his sleeping bag.

  Stephen carefully placed his glasses in their case and put that in his webbing, then lay down and stretched out beside Graham. “Should one of us stay awake?” he asked.

  “Why? Nothing’s likely to come along,” Graham replied, “And if it does we won’t see it anyway.”

  “I was thinking of being up and ready to move as soon as it starts to get light,” Stephen replied, picturing in his mind badly injured people lying in the rain and darkness. “If we are cold then any poor buggers who survived that crash will be in a bad way.”

  “Yes, but I reckon we will wake up anyway,” Graham replied. “This slope is so steep we are liable to be half awake to stop ourselves rolling off down the hill.”

  “You are right there,” Stephen replied. He had already started to slip downhill, the nylon sleeping bag being very smooth on the plastic groundsheet. To stop this he placed his feet against a small tree.

  Feeling very anxious but also seeing the logic of Graham’s argument he tried to relax. Lying in total darkness
was depressing and scary but Stephen was comforted by Graham’s closeness, and also by the thought that no pig or cassowary would be blundering around on such a steep mountain side in the dark. He pulled the hood of his sleeping bag up over his head and lay staring at the blackness. The rain had eased off for a while but then started again, the drops drumming loudly on the plastic sheet and dripping from every leaf and branch.

  Stephen thought he wouldn’t sleep but almost at once he dropped off. Several times he wriggled into a more comfortable position and he was vaguely aware that he had slipped downhill a bit. Even in his sleep he was conscious that the bottom end of his sleeping bag was getting wet but he was too tired to actually wake up and move. Instead he just pulled his feet up out of the way.

  *****

  When Stephen finally opened his eyes he found that he could just make out the shape of the leaves overhead. For a moment he lay wondering where he was. Then realisation burst upon him. He struggled into a sitting position and groped in his webbing for his glasses case. As he did he became aware that he was half out from under the shelter and that the bottom half of his sleeping bag was soaked.

  ‘Too bad!’ he thought, knowing he could easily dry it when he got home. After carefully putting on his glasses he looked at his watch. 5:15. He reached over and shook Graham. “Wake up! Get up lazy bones,” he said.

  Graham grunted and then rolled over. Stephen shook him again. “Come on Graham. Stop dreaming of Rowena or Kate or whoever it is this time and get up.”

  “It was Elizabeth,” Graham mumbled as he pulled back his sleeping bag to peer at Stephen.

  “Oh yeah? What were you dreaming of doing?”

  “Helping a maiden in distress,” Graham replied.

  Stephen smiled as he knew that Graham was very romantic and saw himself as a knight in white armour. He also knew that Graham liked girls very much. “More likely dreaming of putting her in distress!” he commented.

  “Humpff!” Graham snorted, moving to a sitting position as he did.

  Stephen knew he had hit the mark but left it at that. “Let’s get packed and get on up this mountain,” he said.

  “Have some breakfast first. We might not get a chance later,” Graham added.

  “Waste of time,” Stephen said, once again having his mind filled with images of dead people and of badly injured ones shivering in the rain.

  Graham gestured upwards. “We might need all the energy we can get. It will only take a few minutes and we have some shelter here.”

  As he said this a heavy shower of rain came drumming across the treetops, as though to emphasise his words. Stephen had to admit it was common sense. Reluctantly he extracted his feet from the warmth of the sleeping bag and reached for his socks. Pulling on those wet socks was an experience he would remember for the rest of his life. It was something he had often done on cadet camps but what was to follow was to etch this particular morning’s experience into his psyche.

  Boots followed, then the sleeping bag and groundsheet were rolled up into the bottom of his pack. Seated on his pack Stephen felt driven to move as quickly as he could. Already it was getting lighter and he could make out Graham’s shape and the outlines of trees. He took out his stove and began heating water.

  ‘Coffee this morning,’ he decided. ‘I need the lift.’ He dug out a sachet of instant coffee, two small packets of sugar and a tube of condensed milk. Beside him Graham did the same. Within minutes both boys had their stoves alight and water on to heat. As before the cheery glow of the flames lifted their spirits. They also emphasised the cloud swirling around them through the tree trunks. More heavy rain fell, coming in showers of several minutes duration, then easing to a spattering drizzle.

  While they cooked and ate some hot food the light increased so that everything became a pale grey, then colours began to emerge. Stephen gulped down a hasty meal of ‘Bacon and Baked Beans’ while Graham had ‘Sausages and Spaghetti’. Graham then heated more water and began shaving. It was part of their normal morning routine but this time it irritated Stephen.

  “Never mind shaving!” he cried. “You won’t meet any girls up here. We have to hurry.”

  “Might be a girl in the wreck,” Graham replied as he soaped his face.

  That was an appalling thought. Stephen hadn’t thought of that. It made him feel even more anxious and sick inside. Fretting to be moving he peeled off his pullover and stowed it back in its plastic bag. Even though it was cold he knew he would start to sweat when they resumed climbing. ‘I will want it dry later,’ he told himself. With shaking hands he packed his stove and mess gear away and prepared to march. Graham shaved as quickly as he could, then also packed his stove.

  Stephen stood up and pulled on his webbing and pack. “Come on Graham! Hurry up!” he snapped irritably.

  “Keep your shirt on!” Graham replied as he checked his gear. “A couple of minutes won’t matter.”

  “They might,” Stephen replied. Now that he was up and ready to go the awful sense of helpless dread was gripping him again.

  Graham stood up and began to untie the shelter. Stephen helped and the plastic sheet was down within seconds. It had not been raining at that moment but as Graham packed it into the top of his pack a heavy shower came over, soaking them at once.

  “Bugger!” was Stephen’s comment, but he merely hunched a bit more and kept his hat firmly on to protect his glasses. He found it an enormous relief to be able to see again. That also made him aware that it was now daylight- or would have been but for the clouds swirling around them.

  As soon as Graham began to swing on his webbing Stephen took out his compass and secateurs and set off up the mountainside. Now that he could see he was happy to lead. Graham was content to follow and the climb was resumed.

  Stephen climbed as fast as he could, hauling himself up from one slimy, moss-covered tree trunk to the next. His boots slipped repeatedly in the loose deadfall and mulch but he just struggled even harder. Within five minutes he estimated he had climbed fifty metres and had to halt, his chest heaving and sweat steaming up his glasses and running into his eyes.

  He only allowed himself to rest for as long as it took his hammering heart rate to slow down slightly, then he resumed the climb. Graham stayed with him and said nothing. Large patches of wait-a-while had to be avoided and generally Stephen went to the right of them, reasoning that would put them closer to the summit. He did not worry too much about the compass bearing, just keeping to the general direction.

  Cloud still swirled around them and continual drops fell from the leaves and trees. Stephen tried to ignore this, but was annoyed to find his glasses wet and fogging up again. He had to peel a wet leaf off the left lens and that left an irritating smear. All he could do was shrug and swear, knowing it would make it worse if he wiped it. Squinting in the gloom he concentrated on finding the easiest way through the tangle.

  After half an hour sheer exhaustion brought him to a standstill. Graham climbed up beside him and they stood with chests heaving.

  “Can’t be far now,” Stephen said hopefully.

  “We must have climbed well over a hundred metres,” Graham agreed.

  “So we should be only a hundred or so from the top,” Stephen replied hopefully.

  Graham nodded, then pointed. “The vegetation is changing. Look, there are some She-Oaks, and out to the right on that clump of rock are those twisted little trees.”

  That cheered Stephen up and as soon as he had recovered his breath he resumed climbing. It was getting very steep now and he had to haul himself up by his arms as much as use his boots.

  From behind Graham called after him. “Slow down Steve. You’ll blow a valve if you keep that up. Remember the tortoise and the hare.”

  Stephen had to admit that a slow steady plod got a person up a mountain quicker but it took willpower to force himself to do it. An all-compelling urge to hurry was fuelled by the apprehension of probable tragedy.

  Another heavy shower of rain came over an
d the gloom increased to a dull twilight. The water cascaded down the tree trunks, off rocks and down the steep slopes, soaking and chilling them both. Stephen’s glasses became misted over with tiny drops and more smudges and he could only swear and struggle on, half blind.

  ‘At least there seems to be less wait-a-while,’ he thought. In fact the vegetation had definitely changed. There were more rocky outcrops, all covered in moss and lichen, and there was even moss growing on the dead logs and tree trunks. It wasn’t a proper moss forest and Stephen knew he would have been fascinated to stop and study it at any other time. But all he wanted to do now was get to the top.

  And twenty minutes later, after two more stops, he was there. Within ten paces he came out of the trees, into a zone of windswept grass, large rocks and stunted, twisted trees. He let out a cry of triumph and clawed his way up a wet rock to the very crest. As he reached it strong winds lashed at his face and clothes and his hat was blown off his head. His chin strap saved it but his glasses were pulled off. He had to back off and kneel down to grope among the bushes and rocks to find them. Then all he could do was wipe them on his sleeve.

  Graham came crawling up beside him, his face alight with the exultation of achievement. “We did it!” he cried, looking around.

  There wasn’t much to see. Dark clouds swirled around, drenching rain lashed them, and the visibility was only a few metres. The crest line went on upwards to their right and through a gap in the clouds Stephen glimpsed a large clump of rocks a few hundred metres away which he thought might be the actual crest of the mountain.

  Graham stood and peered in all directions, holding his hat on with his hand and obviously alive to the adventure of it all. “The question is, which way?” he shouted.