Thursday July 16th, 2020

The exercise:

Write about: the camp.

2 comments:

Greg said...

There's no camping going on down by the creek, I'm afraid, but campsite might be an appropriate way to describe Elizabethtown :-D

The camp
The land descended from Elizabethtown, for want of a better name of the collection of tattered huts clearly only there to support the miners, and then at best incidentally, towards Humbug Gulch. The slope was gradual for about ten metres, then became abruptly steep, with only the trees growing there to provide something to grab on to as you descended. After my third slip I started looked around more carefully, and finally spotted a terraced section some way off to our left. I pointed it out to Ben, who looked at Jimmy and asked why we weren't using it.
"That's for back up," he said with a grin. “The locals all just slip and slide down to the bottom; if they see you using the steps then they think you're feeble.”
"And you wouldn't want them thinking we were feeble, right?" I started to wonder how much Jimmy had talked us up, and who he'd talked us up to. So far we'd seen Josie, and no-one else.
"You guys are as tough as old boots," said Jimmy, and maybe I was imagining it, but I thought there was a hint of pride in his voice.
"I'm going to look like an old boot if I slip and slide down to the bottom on my face," said Ben. A finger wagged in my direction. "Say nothing if you don't want to go first, Red!"
I held my tongue, and we made it to the bottom with nothing more than a couple of stumbles and the occasional pause while one or the other of us grabbed a tree and got our balance back.
The creek was much bigger than I had expected; this was actually a full-grown river, although maybe not quite out of its awkward teenage stage yet. There were stony shallows, dotted with some deep pools here and there that had the darting shadows of fish in them, but the creek was easily six metres across at its narrowest and the water was running fast and deep. The banks were sandy, mostly, but there were muddy patches, and the trees crowded round the water's edge where the land was flat enough, resulting in clumps and copses that you either had to wade through the water to get around, or struggle back up the slope. Over to the left, where the land had been terraced into broad, long stairs, there were a couple of wooden posts sticking out of the water, and Ben and I exchanged glances again. Posts to tie a boat up to.
"The humbug here would be in calling this a creek," I said. "This here's a river, and no two ways about it. Does it get smaller past here?" I looked left and right but the river looked even to me. The water was running from my left though, suggesting that it started up in the mountains north of us.
"I haven't seen it get smaller," said Jimmy. "I've not walked along it much though. Just come down to collect water every morning, and that's about it."
I sighed. "Don't tell me we need to haul water and you never thought to bring a bucket?"
Jimmy blushed, beet red colour starting at his hairline and suffusing his face until he looked like a raspberry.
"You best get back to that campsite of a town and get it then," said Ben. "We'll wait here for you."

Marc said...

Greg - hah, yes, I suppose it might be.

Hah, good old Jimmy. Making sure their reputation precedes them :)