Page 19 of The Woodcarver's Model
After picking up a couple of cups of decent coffee for the road, and a few bottles of water for Rufus, they headed on to pay a visit to some of the locals Mitch did business with. Bartering was an important way of life on the island. Some fresh-cut herbs for a dozen eggs, a wooden bowl for home preserves, aged beef for a rustic bench. Everyone looked out for everyone else. Rufus decided to stay at the butcher’s for a while, so Mitch and Rob headed off on their own. Life for Rufus was like life on a sixties commune in the age of free love when switching partners was not seen as a personal slight, but an opportunity for adventure.
“Our next stop is a special one for me,” Mitch said, as they headed off the island’s coastal road and up a more rustic route. The truck climbed through the trees up a road that was more rutted track than legal passage.
I’m glad it’s not my rental we’re taking up here, Rob thought.
“Good thing Rufus isn’t in your lap,” hollered Mitch as he shifted gears and the truck bounced its way over rocks and around fallen branches. After twenty minutes they reached a barren polished rock outcrop and Mitch pulled over.
“Come on. We’ll hoof it from here.” They left the truck and as Mitch took Rob’s hand, they re-entered the forest. Walking holding hands was a new thing for Rob. He and Kevin had never held hands when they walked. It felt…odd. He let go for a moment.
“Sorry, I…” Mitch started.
“No. It’s not that. It feels… I think mine needs to be the other way.”
Until then, he had never thought that there could be a right way to hold someone’s hand. Like in other aspects of intimacy, there was a top and a bottom. Kinestheticsdictated that the hand of the taller member of the partnership took the more vertical, ortopposition in the holding. Being shorter, Rob shifted his hand to the horizontal one.
“There,” Rob said. He was pleased with his discovery. “You see—now I’m the bottom.” He smiled.
Mitch laughed out loud. “You are so delightfully weird.” Then he grabbed Rob and kissed him deeply. They continued through the woods, hand in hand, top and bottom, as it should be.
After a few minutes, they stepped out of the trees into a clearing. The world opened up and blue sky replaced the green canopy. In front of them lay an ancient, cracked granite mound thirty feet high. They climbed. In a few minutes, they reached the summit.
“Welcome to Admiral’s Peak, the highest point on the mountain,” Mitch said as some might introduce a newcomer to the Sistine Chapel.
“Holy…” Rob said in awe.
“Exactly.” After a long pause Mitch said, “I come here when my mind is cloudy and I need to find peace.” He squeezed Rob’s hand.
It wasn’t, by far, the tallest peak Rob had ever climbed—Everest held that claim—but it was nevertheless spectacular. A three-hundred-sixty-degree vista of sea, forest and mountain. And the air—that salt-tanged, oxygen-filled, organic freshness that worked its way into the blood and brought peace to the soul. Places like this were rare on earth. To find one on this island…tears filled Rob’s eyes. Mitch wiped a tear off Rob’s cheek.
“This is right and good,” he commented, holding up his dampened finger. “I wonder if the Coast Salish thought of this as a sacred place. I do. So did Aunt Sarah. We should be grateful to be here.”
Mitch looked away into the distance. Rob could see his lips move ever so slightly in near-silent prayer. Maybe, if he was lucky, Mitch would teach him that prayer. Some day.
* * * *
As they wandered back down through the woods, they came upon a small stream of clear water. Mitch knelt down, cupped some up in his hands and brought it up to Rob’s lips. Rob drank it in.
“This comes from a spring just up that hill,” he said, indicating a small rise to their right. “This place provides you with everything you need to sustain yourself, body and soul.”
They walked on and Mitch continued the lesson.
“Bullrush roots, of course, and the corms of the yellow glacier flower. Camas, which is a member of the asparagus family. Salmonberries are good, they look like orange raspberries,” he explained, becoming more excited, “and soapberries contain something called saponins which allow them to be whipped up into something like ice cream.”
Rob smiled at his enthusiasm. Mitch was showing off what he loved.
“Then there are a number of fungi, like oyster mushrooms and puffballs, that are edible, as well as grubs and insects that are high in protein.
“No thank you. I’ve eaten a lot of things from around the world, but insects…not for me.”
“Don’t knock it until you need it, mister,” Mitch said with a smile.
“You seem to know a lot about edibles in the forest.”
“They can save your life,” Mitch responded. “They saved mine.”
Rob sensed that he shouldn’t push on that subject.
“We should probably get going,” Mitch suggested.
