Something Ive been working on. A long way to go but here is a part of it. Curtis stepped out the door, slung the old army duffle filled with camping gear over his shoulder, a small cooler in his left hand and his rod in the right. He headed down the yard toward the highway. Curtis, at only thirteen was taking his first fishing trip alone. He was planning to camp beside the stream for two weeks. It was a three mile hike to the stream. He crossed the highway and the wide swag of grass between the highway and railroad to get to the tracks. Walking the railroad was safer than the roadside. It was mid-summer and the Kentucky sun burned hard. Ahead, the heat rising caused the rails and ties to wiggle. Curtis’s only worry was crossing the long trestle spanning the Licking River. He knew the tracks crossed two pieces of water but the first crossed a narrow bayou only good for hunting ducks and rabbit. It was easy. On the long trestle there was nowhere to go if he met a train. That played on his mind along with the long strides from tie to tie stretching his legs beyond his normal stride. He kept a good pace with the long strides. When he come to the first of two vehicle crossings before he would make the long trestle, he stopped for a breather but never sat his duffel down. There was no shade along the tracks here and unloading for a short break seemed a waste of time. The highway was always to his right and cars zipped by and he thought how quick it would be to get where he was headed by car. By watching the droop in power lines between the dark, cresol poles, allowed his mind to ignore the pace and the heat as he walked. Halfway to the river was a little airport to the right beyond the highway. It was no more than a pasture field with a few single engine planes parked alongside an old chicken house. The runway was kept mowed most of the time and when it was not in use cattle grazed the runway. A sun bleached, red, windsock hung limp from a skinny pole at the far end of the field. Curtis had always wanted to go flying. He could picture the bumpy ride down the grassy runway. He had never saw a plane land or take-off there but knew that they must, or there would be little reason for the airport. Things like that bothered him and he thought about such things more than he should. There was no true reason to think about such things. They had no real use in his life. He liked to pick at things like that. It was like picking a scab that itched. He did not want to, but it is done without thinking about it. Now he could see the tree outline of the bayou. There would be shade for a short time once he made the bayou. Curtis looked forward to shade but knew not to pick up the pace or it would defeat the purpose. When he was closer, the trees took shape and he could see the green of the leaves and the brown of the trunks. The old road now ran to the left and new US 60 to the right as he walked the tracks. The duffle was becoming heavier. The strap wore into his shoulder. He decided once he made the shade beneath the trees along the bayou, it would be time to stop, unload and rest. Sweat ran down his face but he could not wipe it while carrying his gear. The streams of sweat were itches he could not scratch. He batted his eyes and leaned his head to wipe the side of his face on the rough canvas of the duffle. It seemed the closer to shade the longer it was taking to get to it. Sweat ran from his upper lip and he tasted the salt and he blew out in a hard spew and beads of sweat sizzled when they struck the steel rails of the track. Curtis laughed to himself at the sound of his boiling sweat. He spat on the rail just to hear the spewing, sputtering sound again. He liked knowing how hot the rails were. He was only a few steps from shade. That alone, made it seem hotter. When he stepped into the darker light beneath the trees, he let the duffel slide from his shoulder and lay his rod to the side of the tracks. He was in no real hurry. The only time limit was what he had placed on himself. There was still most of the day left to make the stream. To be continued
Posted on: Fri, 09 Jan 2015 01:25:57 +0000
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