A sequel to ‘At the Turning’

Published: 20 Dec 2018

The sun had ascended over the tops of trees some time before it filtered down through the thick canopy, while the fresh warmth of the morning raised moisture in the damp undergrowth upwards as a light mist. Ralph had risen with the first illumination and repacked their saddlebags, now all that was left was breakfast and to pack the tent but first he would have to remove Wayne from his bed. This was not an easy task as Wayne was definitely not a morning person. He could stay up most of the night but once he finally hit the sack he become comatose and if disturbed quite grumpy.

“Breakfast,” Ralph simply announced as Wayne eventually joined the day.

“What’s on?” Wayne stretched and yawned, “I don’t smell bacon.”

“Not a lot, mostly the sandwiches I packed. Ralph offered.

“I guess that will do, besides I’ve never been a breakfast person, well not before eleven – coffee?”

“Nope we need to get going, no time to build a fire, plenty of fresh water in the creek, once we are done with the brumby track we can have coffee.”

“I am a morning coffee person.” Wayne complained, “I need my first to wake me and a second to become mobile.”

“Sorry,”

“I expect I can miss a morning without it but I warn you I may get grumpy.”

“I’ll ignore you.”

There was a small stream down a slight embankment behind their tent, which Ralph used to water the horses before attempting the next leg of their journey. By the time the horses were watered, Wayne had packed the sleeping bags and tent and with hands on hips stood deliberating on the incline ahead.

The climb didn’t appear steep while the track beyond was still a four wheel drive access, yet his gaze went even higher until the ascent disappeared within a low cloud. ‘What’s hiding beyond that?’ he thought, ‘what nasty surprises have you install for us?’

“Are you alright?” Ralph asked as he brought the horses back to the clearing.

“Umm…”

“You appear concerned?”

“A little apprehensive maybe, I can’t see the top so don’t know what to expect.”

“It’s probably better that way, you can’t panic.” Ralph appeared most confident but unable to convince his friend.

“I think I would rather know what’s ahead.”

“Where is your sense of adventure?”

“I would still rather know ahead of time what to expect.”

The sun only lasted until they recommenced their journey and although it wasn’t raining the light mist made the going slippery and the usually shore-footed horses slowed their progress while shying at rocks and logs along the path.

“I believe we are on the track.” Ralph suggested as the way narrowed into a rocky path with many dips and hollows, with the occasional fallen branch but nothing too great to cause grief.

“I don’t think these horses are accustomed to hills.” Wayne observed.

“They will be fine.”

“You keep saying that but Patchy is sliding somewhat and appears a little unwilling to continue.” Wayne peered over the side of the narrow track, now only three metres wide and tapering as they progressed. Off to their right the stream where Ralph had watered the horses now ran low in a ravine with steep sides rising towards their path at a good fifty metres. The other side was almost a vertical slope, ever upwards to disappear in the lowering mist.

“A bit of a drop,” Wayne perceived while stretching across for a better view of the ravine.

“Are you nervous of heights?” Ralph asked.

“A little…”

“Yes I remember you on the Skyrail.” Ralph humoured.

“It was that flaming door latch, not the height.”

“Then don’t look down.”

“That’s easy to say but there isn’t really anywhere else to look – what’s up ahead?”

“Much the same but we are climbing at a steady rate.”

“Do you realise something Ralph?”

“Go on.”

“This is the longest period I’ve been away from civilization.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“Don’t know yet, I miss my morning coffee.”

“How would you faired back in our uncle’s time?”

“Good question, I expect what you don’t know you don’t miss.” Wayne admitted.

“I should think back then it was survival and not adventure and life at best was somewhat precarious.”

“Precarious,” Wayne repeated.

“I meant -”

“Yes I understand what you meant but it’s a little precarious here right now – and don’t you dare say don’t worry it will be fine.”

“Okay I won’t but it will be.”

“Precarious huh?”

They were soon on the narrow brumby track and climbing more steeply at every step, while much of the track’s surface had been eroded from years of monsoon downpours and the hooves of wild horses.

“See that large tree jutting out of the embankment above and ahead.” Ralph asked.

“It doesn’t appear very secure.” Wayne deduced.

“It’s secure enough it didn’t get to that size without firm roots.”

“What about the tree?”

“Not the tree but that large dead branch leaning over the track.” Ralph pointed towards the branch.

“Yea,”

“They call branches like that widow-makers.”

“Why?”

“They can fall out of a calm day, so never camp under one, and be careful there is one fallen onto the track ahead but can be stepped over.” Both horses shied at the fallen branch but with a little encouragement passed beyond.

“I don’t much like this track.” Wayne complained nervously as they rounded a bend to find their path had been partially wash away ahead, yet was still quite passable but somewhat rocky and still narrowing.

Ralph didn’t answer as he kept his bay mare moving at snail’s pace, with Wayne on Patchy bringing up the rear, while the track lost even more width and was strewn with storm litter.

“It appears there has been a storm through here recently,” Wayne offered.

“I should think it was that one we were watching from the verandah a couple of nights back.” Ralph surmised.

“It has sure made a mess.”

“A little trouble ahead,” Ralph cautiously admitted and dismounted; Wayne caught up and soon discovered the problem. A large bolder had dislodged from somewhere above and after rolling down the slope came to rest in the middle of the narrow track, making further advancement impossible without moving it. Wayne dismounted and joined his friend.

“It’s not too large,” Ralph deducted, although he found it wouldn’t budge under his full weight.

“Big enough, fortunately we weren’t passing as it fell.” Wayne looked up discovering some distance above there was a grouping of such boulders, all appearing as if one more rain storm would bring them down, “they look ominous and larger,” he confessed nodding towards the vicarious outcrop.

“Come on give me a hand moving it,” Ralph again pushed with all his strength but still it remained firm. Soon both were grunting over its weight.

“Ever hear of a lever?” Wayne backed away.

“I was thinking the same.”

Wayne searched about and found a long tree branch beside the track. “This should do the trick,” he announced confidently and with some effort they had it in position and applying their combined weight and strength to lever.

“I think it shifted.” Ralph admitted.

“Not a lot – on the count of three put your weight to it.”

“Right,”

“One – are you ready?” Wayne asked.

“I thought you said on three, just count it off.”

“Here I go – one, two threeee – its going!”

The bolder moved, rolled, caught on the soft edge then with an almighty crash tumbled into the ravine, coming to rest in the creek below, taking with it enough to create a small dam across the stream. The water quickly built until its force prevailed, tumbling the bolder and debris along until it caught against a fallen tree. Another brief blockage but water always has its way and soon all was as before.

The commotion unsettling a flock of sulphur crested cockatoos from some nearby trees. Screeching their discontent they circled twice and resettled into the same trees.

“There you go easy peasy.” Ralph admitted, his gaze upwards, did the overhang move. Obviously his imagination but he did suggest moving along quickly lest it also gave way.

“As long it is the largest we encounter.” Wayne grumbled feeling somewhat uneasy with their adventure. They once again commenced their journey and ever upwards and towards the low mist like cloud.

Another bend and then another and another. The tack was following the stream at an even higher level, cut into the side of the mountain by a hundred years of brumby hooves. Those care-free wild animals with no fear of heights or fear of falling, while Wayne’s fear was acute and appeared to be transferring to his mount. He bit his lip, feeling his disposition rise from his chest to pulsate loudly behind his ears while refusing to look downwards. Some distance ahead Ralph seemed to be at home with the climb and the narrowing track, “you alright back there?” Ralph called while keeping his eyes on the track ahead.

“I guess so.”

Half an hour passed and still they slowly climbed through the hills, an equal length of time and Wayne was becoming brave towards their success or at least mildly confident, “how’s the track ahead?” he called as they turned another bend, one so sharp that if they needed to turn their mounts back they could not do so.

“The same; we’re getting there, must be only a couple of kilometres now.” He encouraged but Wayne lacked confidence in his friend’s assurance, with his vision ever upwards he calculated they were nowhere close to the summit. Then Ralph’s mount stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

“There is a fallen tree across the path.” Ralph called back.

“Can the horses step over it?”

“Too high, we will have to somehow move it.” Ralph answered and dismounted to better view of their impediment.

“What happens if we can’t?” Wayne asked as he came into view of the obstruction.

“Have too. The track’s too narrow here for the horses to turn back and there isn’t any way around it.” Wayne dismounted and joined Ralph at the blockage. Beyond the tree trunk the track appeared to improve somewhat, a teaser towards their situation but the river side was a drop of a good hundred meters, even more, with broken tree trunks and boulders among the giant forest trees, protruding out of the embankment like stakes in a medieval moat. To their left the mountain rose, a colossus stretching to the heavens and the ever lowering mist.

The fallen tree wasn’t impressive not much thicker that a man’s body but the lower end had wedged itself into an outcrop of rocks, while the portion that crossed the path was at chest height, preventing their horses from stepping over or going under.

“How do we get around this, I bet you didn’t pack an axe?” Wayne asked while attempting to man-handle the log. It refused to budge. It couldn’t, weighing most probably tenfold their combined weigh.

“No.”

“Everything but an axe,” Wayne sighed, while Ralph looked despondently upon his friend’s negativity, “we brought a rifle maybe we could shoot it.

“We could try moving the rocks; they are all that’s holding it from falling further.” Ralph took himself to the outcrop but soon admitted they were much too large and well anchored into the side of the ravine to manipulate. “It would take dynamite to shift them, but I have an idea.”

“I suppose you didn’t pack any dynamite?” Wayne made light.

“Funny boy – Still where there is a will there is a way.” Ralph seriously answered while giving close scrutiny to the situation.

At the rocky outcrop end the trunk was much thinner and the part lodged within the rocks was quite rotted, Ralph stood on the log while jumping up and down. It didn’t move.

“You could do that for a hundred years without budging it.” Wayne said thinking if that was Ralph’s idea it didn’t carry much credibility, “and if it did give way, you, the rock and log will end up down in the drink.”

“Oh I didn’t think of that,” Ralph quickly jumped down from his perch, “what I was thinking, we could burn the log through here where it is thinnest beside the rocks. The rocks will help increase the heat but it may take a while.”

“Clever boy that may work as there doesn’t appear to be a great deal anchoring it, I would think another wet season and it would have gone anyway,” Wayne agreed.

“You reckon we could wait that long?” Ralph asked somewhat flippantly, “it has to work, otherwise one of us will have to walk back home for a chainsaw, can’t safely turn the horses here, the path behind is already crumbling.” Ralph commenced to pile firewood under the thin end of the log; then with the pile high they backed the horses as far away from their bonfire as was possible.

The fire was slow to take but as the wood dried it built into an inferno. An hour past and their bonfire lowered but still the fallen tree held. The two quickly gathered more fire wood and soon had their inferno even higher than before. Another hour and still their fire burnt, while desperation commenced to climb. More fire wood then with one mighty crack the granite boulder split like the side of a rotted tooth and tumbled into the river below, taking with it the blockage and part of the path, making their passage more precarious than before.

As the rock cracked both horses took fright and for an instance they were at danger of falling from the path but they settled quickly with Ralph’s softening voice. “You’re a bloody hero Ralph.” Wayne shouted and hugged his shoulders.

Soon they were crossing over the path where the log had barred their way, now with little more than a hoof’s print to stand upon. Once they had done so they heard the rest of the rocky outcrop give then tumble into the ravine taking with it a good ten meters of the path and any chance of turning back, or of anyone ever using that section of the path again.

“I think that is the end of the brumby track, I can’t see anyone or anything coming this way in the future.” Wayne drolly spoke while looking back on the gaping hole in the route they had just travelled but the humour soon diluted with the thought the passage ahead may also be blocked. If so how would they turn back even if they found a broader plot to turn the horses? This thought he shared with Ralph who not wishing to sound pessimistic, replied those immortal words he appeared to cherish, everything would work out.

“It’s my reckoning you would say those very words as the hangman put a noose around your neck.” Wayne grumbled.

“It has to I’m too young to die.”

“I don’t think providence works like that Ralph.”

“It does in my story and who’s telling it?”

Another kilometre and all was well, the path was still narrow but it solidly held onto the side of the mountain, while still climbing upwards. Around another bend and then another when Ralph pointed to something that caught his eye at the bottom of the ravine. It was the remains of a brumby whose footwork wasn’t as sure as was necessary. It had fallen onto a rocky ledge above the water level and time had shrunk it down to tight skin stretched over white bones with ghostly eye sockets, black and blankly gazing upon its misfortune. By its appearance the fall had occurred since the previous wet season. If it had tumbled during the monsoon season the torrent down the ravine would have taken it and everything else along with it.

The sight of the fallen brumby sent a shudder through Wayne, thinking if the path had given way as they crossed, they most likely would have joined the brumby and it may have been years, if at all, before their white bones were discovered. Besides who knew of their adventure, seeing Ralph’s garden wasn’t in need of constant care, they even neglected to advise Biff of their intention to travel, except that some time they were to visit Ralph’s relations.

Wayne cast his eyes to the canopy. The day was dulling, yet there was a good three hours of daylight remaining. The mist they had perceived at the base of the mountain was now all about them, causing the path to become greasy. His heart began to race while thinking of being caught on the track after dark or if there was another rain storm.

“I think we should dismount and lead the horses.” Ralph suggested. They did so and immediately both horses appeared to find a new steadfastness, even increasing their speed. Then as the mist thickened the trail opened out onto a large flat surface.

“Have a look ahead?” Ralph called back to Wayne bringing him to the front.

“That looks more promising.”

“With the daylight failing I suggest we should camp here for the night.”

“You’re the boss.” The suggestion came as relief to Wayne in the form of a stress releasing sigh.

“It’s a little rocky.” Ralph looked about and found a perfect spot to pitch their tent to one side of the clearing, “I guess this will do.” As Ralph unpacked the tent the fine mist became light rain.

“Not a minute too soon, here I’ll give you a hand,” Wayne collected the tent pegs and between the two they had the tent erected and their provisions stowed in little time.

The clearing had a good carpet of grass and to one side a large rock basin of water, which with the almost daily occurrence of mist and rain remained at a permanent level. It was now growing dark, more from the gathering clouds than from the lack of daylight hours.

Quickly they secured their belongings, climbing inside the tent as the first of the afternoon’s rain arrived.

“What do you think?” Ralph asked.

“I don’t think? I know we won’t be going back that way.”

“That I agree.”

“Where do you believe we are?” Wayne asked, his head projecting through the tent flap, while attempting to visualise their position.

At the edge of the clearing the trees grew tall becoming a wall to his vision, their canopy so thick little sunlight would ever make way through to the damp fern covered grown below.

“I reckon we are on top of the range, or close enough to consider so.” Ralph ascertained.

“But it’s almost flat?” Wayne supposed of their few acres of clearing.

“That I have read is the anomaly with many Australian mountains they are often flat on top, warn down through age I expect.”

“Ralph sometimes you are a world of information; useless in most aspects but always entertaining.” Wayne laughed, pulling his head back inside the tent away from the rain as droplets descended down his nose, wiping them away with his shirt sleeve he continued; “you know Ralph I was a little concerned on the track back there,” he admitted now free from their ordeal.

“Concerned! I was scared shitless.” Ralph confessed. “But if I’m correct the downing should be less difficult as the fall is gradual.”

“When we return home I think we should warn folk not to attempt what we did today, especially after part of the track has fallen away.” Wayne zipped the tent closed.

“I would say nothing; we don’t want anyone thinking we are crazy.”

“That’s not like you Ralph.”

The rain was continuous during the late afternoon and past dusk, taking away their ability to build a fire so they had to partake of bread and jam. It was filling enough and to Ralph’s taste. He often said that there was nothing better in the entire world than a slice of freshly baked bread with lashings of butter and strawberry jam. The bread wasn’t so fresh but the jam did come in abundance, while with the heat the butter in its container became more a dipping sauce, both were soon satisfied.

“Had enough to eat?”

“It would have been nice with a juicy piece of steak between, covered with tomato sauce – and onions.”

“What a jam and steak?” Ralph was teasing.

“No steak and steak. There isn’t anything better than a well prepared steak sandwich and I know a place in Cairns that makes a real beaut, my mouth is running to water just thinking of it.”

“I must admit I do like a steak sandwich.” Ralph concurred while screwing the lid back onto the jam jar. “So tomorrow’s another day,” Ralph added without meaningful reason.

“Yes and for a moment back there, a day I didn’t think we would see.”

“We should start out early with the sun, I reckon the brumby track will head out from somewhere on the other side of the clearing.” He lay back onto his sleeping bag and folded his arms behind his head and grinning broadly.

“What?”

“I was just thinking.” Ralph declared.

“Oh yea what?”

Ralph gave a giggle and shook his head, “I suppose it’s now my turn to pussy-foot eh?”

“Have you been at the scotch?”

“No but it’s a good idea he reached for the saddle bag and retrieved the bottle. “I was thinking of what Biff said to you, that were are turning into an old married couple. I don’t think an old married couple would have attempted that mountain crossing.”

“I don’t think a young sensible stockman would have.”Wayne corrected, taking a swig of scotch he passed the bottle.

“Yet we made it. Something to tell your kids,” Ralph gave a satisfying smirk.

“I will tell you one thing Ralph Matthews, you may get me on a horse again, you may even get me to take a long riding expedition but I will never follow you into the mountains on one.” Wayne promised.

“And I will tell you this Wayne Jenkins, I won’t ask you to either.”

As the scotch relieved the built up anxiety they had accumulated during the day, there was nothing more to do than sleep with the anticipation of an easier descent with the new sun. Ralph as was usual removed his clothes placing them under his head as a pillow, while Wayne finished his final nip of scotch.

“You know kid you look better naked than dressed.” Wayne comically offered while looking down at Ralph through eyes washed with a measure of alcohol, enhance by relief after such a worrying experience.

Ralph turned away from his friends gaze. “What’s wrong, you’re naked half the time, being looked at doesn’t usually buzz you.”

“True but I don’t usually have someone actually admit they are looking at me.” Ralph coyly rebuffed.

Ralph became silent, appearing as if he were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Eventually he did. “You know that waiter at the House on the Hill, is he really gay?”

“Jeremiah? Suppose so, he said he is. I guess self incrimination is proof enough.” Wayne answered.

“Do you believe it is an offence to be so?” Ralph reacted on Wayne’s choice of the word incrimination.

“No, that was probably the wrong word to use but I guess if you hear it from the horse’s mouth it must be so.” Wayne corrected.

“Is that how all gay people act?” Ralph asked, his voice drawn from some part of him that he mostly kept off limits.

“I can’t rightly answer; he is the only gay person I know, so I don’t have much to go on.” Wayne removed his clothes except his underwear and lay back beside Ralph. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Ralph looked down at Wayne’s shorts, “come on get them off and I won’t feel quite as naked.”

“You could put yours back on.”

“Wouldn’t be the same.”

“I don’t get your meaning.”

“Spontaneous, it would need to be spontaneous.”

“Much too late for that now. Alright for the sake of a little peace,” Wayne complied and commenced to giggle, rolling his nakedness away from Ralph’s view.

“Now go to sleep.” Wayne demanded and pretended to snore.

“Can I cuddle into your back?” Ralph asked.

“I guess so but no funny business.”

“Funny business?” Ralph questioned.

“Yea you know; your name isn’t Jeremiah.”

“I guess not, so no funny business, goodnight Wayne.”

“Goodnight.”

“Hey Wayne?”

“What?”

“I was thinking how are we going home?”

“Not this way I assure you.” Wayne quickly enforced.

“I do realise that.”

“I think we will catch the bus and have the horses returned by float, I know a fellow in Yungaburra with a horse float and I am sure he will be willing to oblige at a fee.”

“How long did you live in Yungaburra?”

“Only a couple of months, I have relations there, two uncles in the area and was with them before going to my grandmother. Why?”

“No reason.”

“It’s bloody hot in here.” Wayne complained.

“Open the tent fly.”

“Not bloody likely, especially after all those stories you told about things that like to bed down in dry warm places.”

Wayne lay with Ralph’s arm across his shoulder while gently holding one finger in his grasp. It felt natural without affecting his masculinity, which appeared to be diluting with each day he spent with his newly found young companion, becoming closer with each sleep.

Releasing what could be considered an ironic grunt he believed the only act keeping their relationship from being similar to Jeremiah’s was the act of sexual intercourse. Did this make him gay, was he involved in a homosexual relationship without realising the fact? Not knowing how to answer such a question he placed it aside but it remained and constant.

“The rain eased.” Ralph interrupted Wayne’s thoughts.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Not yet.”

“This tent needs air conditioning.” Wayne grumbled.

“I didn’t pack one.”

“It’s a wonder, you did everything else.”

“Except an axe;” Ralph added.

“Or dynamite and a chain saw, either would have been welcome today.”

“I’ll be sure to pack them next time.”

“Yet the fire worked, just think all that power from a single match.”

“I used two.” Ralph corrected.

“Very wasteful; again – goodnight Ralph.”

“Ditto.”

Let Gary Know that you are reading and what you think of his story. Drop an email to him: Gary dot Conder at CastleRoland dot Net.

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