6 Miles With Courage Read online

  He briskly walks around the rear of the airplane to the left side, where he is greeted by the cypress tree pressing against the fuselage. He continues around the tree which takes him to the nose of the airplane. He stops there momentarily putting both hands on top of his head before lowering them to his mouth in disbelief. There is no way to reach or even see his father! He walks around the front and then climbs back inside shutting the door.

  “Dad,” he says, “we are in deep trouble.”

  Chapter Four

  “Ants! Ants! They’re biting my neck! Get them off me!” Ryan’s dad screamed. “They’re crawling all over me, hurry get them off me!” Ryan reaches over to brush them off but he doesn’t see any ants. Ryan is thinking that his dad must be hallucinating.

  “Dad calm down, there is nothing on your neck.”

  “It hurts like crazy son, get them off!”

  He looked again, “Dad I’m telling you I don’t see anything.”

  Rob calmed down.

  Ryan sees what looks like blood coming out of his dad’s ear. This worries him but he does not tell his father.

  “Ryan you need to listen to me very carefully. I’m in a bad way and I’m going to need medical treatment very soon.”

  “I figured that dad. I am hoping they get here in a hurry.”

  “Get here? Son nobody will even miss us until seven o’clock and by then it will be dark! They won’t even start looking until tomorrow and they will never spot us down here under the canopy.”

  “What do we do?”

  “There is only one thing we can do. You’re going to have to go for help and bring them back here!”

  “Dad, what you’re saying doesn’t make sense. First of all, I don’t know where here is and secondly I don’t know in which direction to go for help. You may not know it, but I can tell you we are in a deep dark swamp in the middle nowhere! That’s just crazy talk dad! Crazy talk that’s all it is, God! I wish you could see, and move!” Ryan, cupping his brow with his hand, lowered his head and gently sobbed.

  “Ryan I have a very good idea where we are. Remember I told you I just finished a survey of this area? ”

  Ryan is listening but not giving much thought to what his father is saying. He gives a half-hearted answer in a low somber voice, “yes dad I do.”

  “Not only do I know where we are, but I know with certainty that I can tell you which way to go.”

  Ryan rubbing the tears from his eyes asks, “And how is that?” Expecting his dad was about to make another delusional statement just like he did about the imaginary ants on his neck—thinking he’s in shock.

  “All you need is the right equipment, and to know how to use it and I can teach you what you need to know!”

  “What equipment dad?”

  His father replied “Son, everything you need, is in that duffel bag behind you on the rear seat.”

  It took a few seconds for those words to sink in but when they did, he raised himself up and spun around to take a look. At first he thought his father was mistaken, he did not see anything. Then he felt something like canvas tucked in tightly behind his seat. Could it be that maybe the force of the crash jammed it back there? He grasped whatever it was with a tight grip, and pulling it free, spun around falling back into his seat. In his lap was a heavy duffel bag. He looked at his dad.

  “I see you found it,” his dad said. Then without a word they both chuckled. His father couldn’t “see” anything.

  “Son with what’s in that duffel bag, you’re going to get us out of here!”

  Ryan anxiously opened the bag. Inside he found what his father would use to estimate a job, and if needed get him through a night in the woods. But for Ryan it is survival gear.

  There are two unopened plastic water bottles, matches in a water proof container, some beef jerky, and a couple of granola bars. There is also a machete and sheath, some bug spray, a roll of survey ribbon—brightly colored—and a map of the area with survey lines marked on it. There were socks, and a t-shirt, and pants, and a first aid kit. He also found a handheld GPS unit with a wrist strap, a digital camera, and there was a compass.

  “What the heck dad, did you know we were going to crash?” Ryan said jokingly as he was feeling much better now.

  “No son, it’s what I carry when I go off into the woods to estimate a job. Lucky for us I threw it in the plane like I do in my truck. Kind of a habit I guess.”

  “Son, you must do as I tell you, first take the GPS unit into your hand and put your wrist through the strap. Always use the wrist strap. You don’t want to drop it. It’s our lifeline to the world!”

  “I got it dad,” and after eagerly putting his hand through the wrist strap Ryan asks, “What does GPS stand for again?”

  “It stands for Global Positioning System.”

  “You should see a power button. Press it and hold it in to turn it on son.”

  “Ok, I did and now there is a bar coming up on the left, it shows full.”

  “Great! That means the batteries are good. There should be several small bars filling in, that’s the satellites, it tracks twelve and works great under tree cover. Go ahead and set it on the dashboard, up by the windshield.”

  Ryan’s heart swelled with excitement as he set the little instrument on the dashboard and waited for it to lock-on to their position. When it did, two numbers showed up on the screen. The numbers were Latitude and Longitude.

  “Dad, I believe it has our position.”

  “That’s great son! Now push the button that says mark to store it.”

  “It’s done!”

  “Awesome son, you just stored our position! Now if you were to get that into the hands of a forest ranger he could find his way to us, but first let’s mark our position on the map. You should find a couple of pencils in the duffel bag, grab one.”

  “Say dad, this sounds a lot like what my friends do—they call it Geo-Caching.”

  “That’s right Ryan; only you’re going to be doing reverse Geo-Caching. You’re going from a place where you have never been—our crash site—to a place that I have been before—a road.”

  Ryan finds a pencil and with his dad’s instructions he places a dot on the map at their position.

  His heart sinks.

  He holds his breath and shakes his head in disbelief. He does not want to tell his father, but according to the map there is no nearby civilization. But then Ryan’s dad already knew that.

  “Don’t let our position get you down son; we have more work to do. I am going to show you how you’re going to walk out of here and get us some help.”

  Ryan glanced over at the back of his father’s head and breathing a sigh said, “Keep talking dad I’m listening.”

  Ryan’s dad continues at a level pace with his instruction but he knows time is of the essence.

  “You should see a button on the GPS unit that says go-to. Push it, and then push the way-point button son. A list of names should come up. Push the one that says ‘FR77 bend’. That stands for a survey point I have at the bend in Forest Road 77.”

  Ryan was thinking Road? Did my father just say road?

  “Ok, I got it dad.”

  “Good, now what does it show?”

  “It shows an arrow and it says to go S20°W, for 4.1 miles!”

  “Good job! Now look at the map and you should find a bend in Forest Road 77, south and west of our position.”

  “I got it.” Ryan said.

  “OK, now take the pencil and draw a line between the two points—one being our position and the other being the bend in the road. This is the path you must take. After the 4 miles to Forest Road 77 you will walk the road for 2 miles for a total of 6 miles!”

  Ryan looks out his window at the swamp and thinks for a moment, path? He does not see any path but draws the line anyway. The line starts at a point in the middle of the swamp and runs for a mile-and-a-half to “no-name” creek. It continues for half-a-mile more through a bay tree swamp to the banks of the Okl
awaha River. Then it continues another half-a-mile to a creek named Bear Creek. Then it continues for one and-a-half more miles through the swamp and then through uplands to the bend in Forest Road 77. Ryan looks at the map and then he looks out his window. He turns, and looking at the back of his father’s head says, “Your nuts if you think I’m going to walk that so called path!”

  “Ryan listen to me, it’s our only hope! I know the extent of my injuries. Don’t ask me how, but I know. My brain is swelling and I have no more than twenty-four hours, maybe twenty-eight hours at the most to live! Ryan—son—I’m dying!”

  Chapter Five

  “Dad, will you listen to me?” you’re not going to die! I’m not going to let that happen to you!”

  Ryan is thinking. If only mom were here!

  Mom is a no-nonsense, tall, big–boned Irish woman that has the strength and common sense of two men. Mom always has a “can-do” attitude. If she knew where there were right now, well let’s just say that she would march back through the swamp and rip that cockpit apart with her bare hands and pull Ryan’s dad out! Oh, yes she would!

  Another thing about Ryan’s mom, she is always catching his dad taking the long way about things. It seems like every time his dad has a travel plan or picks a route to take; his mom comes up with a better one that takes half-the-time.

  Ryan continues to listen to his father. But he knows that when the time is right he would have to ask himself, and his dad. “What would mom do?”

  “Son, inside the duffel bag you will find a waterproof backpack. Take it out.”

  “I got it,” Ryan said.

  “Good, you’re going to put the supplies you need for the journey inside of it, and you will carry the GPS unit in one hand, and with the machete in the other you will clear a path.”

  “Ryan, there is an old saying that, the longest journey—”

  “Begins with but one step, yes I know, I heard that one before dad.” Ryan packs the backpack with everything he needs from the duffel bag. It is a tight fit but he manages to cram it all inside. He looks at his watch, it is almost three o’clock.

  “So you’re telling me that I have to make Forest Road 77, flag somebody down for help and bring them back here by—”

  “Sunset tomorrow son, but you cannot take the chance that someone will just happen to come along after reaching Forest Road 77. After reaching it, you must make a right turn for two miles to Highway 19. You must be at the Forest Road 77 and the Highway 19 intersection by one o’clock tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Why at one o’clock?” Ryan asked.

  “Ryan, that’s the time that the ranger passes through that intersection. He will be on his way up to the ranger station near the boat ramp. I know this because I would talk to him every day at lunch while we were performing the survey of the river. If you can get that GPS receiver in his hand he can organize a rescue party and by-boat; they can motor up the Oklawaha River and reach me by dark tomorrow. Son you can do this. It’s the only surefire way—but you got to get going. You must make camp on the banks of the Oklawaha River tonight, and then cross the river in the morning and meet the ranger as planned.” Ryan’s dad waited for a response from his son. He got one.

  “Dad, what would mom do?”

  “Mom?—what does mom have to do with any of this?”

  “Well, I mean how would mom handle this situation—if she were me? I’m thinking mom would only go as far as the Oklawaha River, and then try to catch a boat west. That’s only two miles away and that would cut four miles off the journey! What do you think? Sounds good does it not?”

  Glancing out the window at the strange world outside, Ryan patiently waits for an answer. He knows his father is an analytical thinker and that he was chewing on the idea, comparing all the possibilities. His father responds.

  “What time is it?”

  “It’s a little after three o’clock,” Ryan replied.

  There was more silence as the wheels kept turning in his dad’s head. Finally an answer came.

  “It won’t work.” His dad said plainly

  “Why?”

  “That is to say it could work, but it’s too risky. It’ll be a Monday and boat traffic will be slow. The window of opportunity will be small. You can wait no more than fifteen minutes and then you have to cross the river and move on. Besides if a boat does come, they will have to be able to see you and hear you and that’s going to be tough. I can tell you that many times I drove the boat right past my helper standing amongst the trees near the banks of that winding river. He would yell, and be waving his arms, but the banks are so far into the tree line I never saw him. We have to stick to the original plan but if the opportunity arises to catch a boat going west—you will have to make that call. Just remember Ryan, not everybody out there on the river is your friend. There are many shady characters—up to no good—on the river. I would not hop into just-anybody’s boat. Pick the wrong boat and you and I are as good-as-dead son!”

  “Well alright then dad, we will stick to the plan.”

  Ryan readies the backpack over his shoulder and putting the GPS unit on his wrist cinches the strap tight. He pops his door open and taking the machete in his hand looks back at his father one last time.

  “Wish me luck dad, I’m going to need it.”

  “Good luck son.”

  Ryan turns, and steps out of the cockpit to face a strange unknown world.

  Chapter Six

  His stepping out of the cockpit door was a lot like Dorothy stepping out of the farm house and into The Land of OZ. The swamp land beneath the canopy is blistering with colors and intoxicating with its sounds. Sunlight dances on dusty beams of light piercing through the canopy openings above. There is a dank smell in the air. Long vines hang from sweet gum and cypress trees. Trees that stand like giant sentinels—upwards to a hundred feet tall—waiting to forbid his entrance. This is a place that does not require nor welcome his presence. It is the afternoon and the swamp was a-buzz. He was truly a stranger in a strange land.

  For the inhabitants of the swamp his presence is just as strange. To the Great Horned Owl peering down from his perch Ryan gives the appearance of a gangly space traveler, crawling out of his broken and wayward spacecraft. It did not matter the origin of this stranger. It was daytime, a time to sleep, and the owl turning his head burrowed it into his downy feathers and minded him no further.

  Ryan—adjusting his backpack—held up his GPS unit for a direction to travel.

  “Ryan, you should tie a piece of that survey ribbon on a tree once-in-awhile. That way if your batteries die, you can still find your way to my location.”

  “I sure will dad,” Ryan said. And he began to walk in the direction of the arrow as shown on the handheld GPS unit. Ryan had gone only fifty-feet when he felt the cool and eerie sensation of the swamp water filling his shoes and rising up to his knees. He had walked off the dry tuft of land where the cockpit had landed. He turns now and looks in amazement at the little airplane’s fuselage suspended above the swamp. A ray of sunlight bounces off the cockpit lighting it up. It looks as though it was being held above the water—perhaps by the hand of God.

  Ryan—staring down at the arrow on the GPS unit for direction—continues his slow walk. Ka-splash, ka-splash, ka-splash went the sound of Ryan’s shoes as he awkwardly tried to walk, while watching the GPS unit for direction. A more skillful outdoorsman—like his father—would quietly slip their shoes into the swamp so as not to bring attention to one’s presence. Ryan would eventually get his swamp-legs, but for the time being he moves through the swamp with all the prowess of a wounded minnow swimming circles in a pond.

  The little GPS meter ticked-off its first increment of distance. It now shows 4.0 miles instead of 4.1 miles to Forest Road 77. That means Ryan had gone one tenth of a mile or 528 feet more or less. He sighs with a sense of accomplishment. Looking back towards the plane, he can see only a tiny portion of it through the enormous trees. Somehow the path has been very good to h
im. His footing is good. The water never rises above his knees. He ghosted past the giant sentinels of the swamp without even noticing them. Of all the hanging vines, he has yet to raise his machete. Looking ahead however things are different.

  Directly in his path and twenty feet ahead is a large cypress tree with vines protruding left and right. Ryan would have to do a little chopping to get around it.

  With less splashing in his step now he moves towards the tree. Something bangs his shin and it hurts. Reaching down to give it a quick rub he notices an oddity. There are cypress tree knees sticking up out of the swamp all around the tree. In fact looking back from where he came, the knees went back as far as he could see. It was a wonder he hadn’t banged his shin earlier. They are nothing more than roots, but to Ryan (as it is with anyone who sees them for the first time) they seem odd. Stepping around them carefully, he continues towards the tree.

  Cypress trees have a cauliflower-type base. The base looks as though it has fins. Farther up the tree it becomes well rounded. The bark is very smooth and reddish brown in color. Rubbing it, he looks up along its towering height. From the forest floor to tips of the highest branches this tree is home to a multitude of life. There is more life in this one tree than on the entire planet of Mars.

  “Wow,” Ryan said aloud. Ryan did not feel alone as much when he talked aloud. It was a practice that he decided to adopt. So long as it brought no danger.

  Ryan steps to the side and pulls the machete from its sheath. He has a whack at one of the vines. It goes through like butter. Water pours out of the top portion of the vine like it pours out of a garden house. The vine is as big around as his wrist, and the hole in the center where the water came out, was as big as his little finger. Ryan is amazed at how easy the machete slices the vine. His father always said. “A dull blade is more dangerous than a sharp one.” Ryan cut another vine with just as much ease and steps through the wall of vines and around the cypress tree. He is mindful now, not to bang his shins on the cypress-knees.