Sample Drake Storm, Way of Witches…
We haven’t seen any sign in the grass on either sides of the trail, but we find a boot print occasionally, even if they are partials. We don’t chat much, trying to move quietly in case the subject is evading. The radio is silent except for our par checks, which are really unnecessary since we are using Sar Topo, linked to the large monitor in the IC where the search management can see our location and movement real time. It is a great asset to a search team.
I can hear Julies foot falls a few meters behind. Occasionally we break to adjust our pack straps, or grab a snack. We have been humping it for about an hour since our last break, which was at dusk. We put on our headlamps and are using the red light function, as it is less noticeable and it doesn’t interfere with our night vision. I want to get to Moose Ridge before we stop again. According to my topo map, it is the highest in this mountain range. I am hoping to get the radio or even cell coverage from the ridge.
I notice Julie stops. I don’t hear her footsteps. Probably needs to adjust something on her pack. I stop and wait until she starts moving again. But she doesn’t, and I hear no sounds from her. Turning to see what she is doing, I see her silhouetted against the darkening sky of dusk standing motionless. Thinking she might have heard someone or something, I don’t speak, but just listen. She continues to stand, absolutely motionless. I turn and walk back to her, stopping at her side, but still no motion from her. She is staring intently off into the forest. I look in the direction she is staring for a few moments, but see nothing but trees. I reach out and take her arm to get her attention, startling her.
“Damn Drake! You scared the hell out of me. I didn’t see you there.”
“I have been standing beside you for several minutes. I thought you heard something and was listening.” She is now out of breath, possibly from being surprised, but perhaps from something else.
“You felt them again, right?” I ask, believing she has once again made an unconscious contact with an ancestral spirit.
“Yes. But it’s different than when we were on the search for Aden, in Georgia. This just feels different,” she admits. She is still on a path of discovering her heritage. Finding out at age 24 that you are native American, having never been told by any family member. Plus, having red hair, light skin and freckles makes it even more difficult to understand and to be accepted among natives.
“Are you ok to keep going, or do you need to stop a few minutes,” I ask. She is genuinely upset; physically affected by who or what is reaching out to her.
“I’m good. Maybe if we move a little further we can get away from it, they, them, oh damn Drake. I don’t know what is going on,” she says, with clear frustration in her voice.
“We are about 100 meters from the peak of this ridgeline. Think you can make it?”
“Sure.”
I put her in the point position, so I can keep a watch on her. We hike a few minutes and come to a section of the trail where rock outcroppings on both sides form a natural ‘pinch point.’ No reason to suspect our subject has placed any trip wires and explosives here, but still, it is second nature for me to be on high alert. When we get to the opposite side of the rocks, the trail widens back to normal, and I can see the peak of the ridge just ahead. Sparsely spaced, scraggly trees dot the top most portion, their growth stunted by the constant winds at this un-protected high peak.
“You take off your gear, We are going to stop here for a few minutes, as long as you don’t space out again,” I say jokingly, trying to get a rise out of her.
“Yea, this is fine.” Well, that was a little disappointing. She is definitely not herself.
“I am going to see if I can get a cell signal, or if the radio will work. I check both, and as I suspected, neither works. “I am going to climb up this slope a little further. Will you be ok here?”
“Sure. Knock yourself out.” She replies, still not herself.
The top of the slope is only a few meters. When I get to the top I try my cell again, but as I suspected, no connection. The radio isn’t any better. I try to contact comms but all I get is static. I head back down to where Julie is waiting. She has yet to take off her gear.
“You didn’t want to take off your pack? We can stay here and take a long break.” She doesn’t respond. I realize that we have been hiking for almost six hours. We have snacked, but we need something a little more substantial.
“Julie. Julie!” I call to her.
“Damn Drake, you don’t have to yell. I am right here” she comments, with her trademark sarcasm. Sure, makes me more at ease to hear that sharp tongue again. But she still sounds tired.
“No. I don’t want to take a break here, this isn’t a good place to camp. We need to backtrack to the pinch point,” she states rather emphatically, like she has gotten her second wind.
“Ok, that seems rather odd. Any specific reason,” I ask.
“Yes, there is weather moving in. We don’t want to be on a ridge. Trust me on this one, ok?” I will absolutely trust her on this point. After her experience on a mountain ridge in Air Borne Training, when a thunder storm rolled in quickly and two of her team were hit by lightning. She was between them, and the high voltage electrical charge connected with a recruit on her left, moved through the ground past Julie, and hit the recruit on the opposite side of her. It is unbelievable no one was killed.
“You got it, Ms. Callahan,” I reply.
“Plus, that is where the subject is waiting on us,” she comments.
“The search subject?” I ask.
“Yes, the search subject. Damn Drake. Keep up,” she replies as she begins moving back down the trail.
We haven’t seen any sign in the grass on either sides of the trail, but we find a boot print occasionally, even if they are partials. We don’t chat much, trying to move quietly in case the subject is evading. The radio is silent except for our par checks, which are really unnecessary since we are using Sar Topo, linked to the large monitor in the IC where the search management can see our location and movement real time. It is a great asset to a search team.
I can hear Julies foot falls a few meters behind. Occasionally we break to adjust our pack straps, or grab a snack. We have been humping it for about an hour since our last break, which was at dusk. We put on our headlamps and are using the red light function, as it is less noticeable and it doesn’t interfere with our night vision. I want to get to Moose Ridge before we stop again. According to my topo map, it is the highest in this mountain range. I am hoping to get the radio or even cell coverage from the ridge.
I notice Julie stops. I don’t hear her footsteps. Probably needs to adjust something on her pack. I stop and wait until she starts moving again. But she doesn’t, and I hear no sounds from her. Turning to see what she is doing, I see her silhouetted against the darkening sky of dusk standing motionless. Thinking she might have heard someone or something, I don’t speak, but just listen. She continues to stand, absolutely motionless. I turn and walk back to her, stopping at her side, but still no motion from her. She is staring intently off into the forest. I look in the direction she is staring for a few moments, but see nothing but trees. I reach out and take her arm to get her attention, startling her.
“Damn Drake! You scared the hell out of me. I didn’t see you there.”
“I have been standing beside you for several minutes. I thought you heard something and was listening.” She is now out of breath, possibly from being surprised, but perhaps from something else.
“You felt them again, right?” I ask, believing she has once again made an unconscious contact with an ancestral spirit.
“Yes. But it’s different than when we were on the search for Aden, in Georgia. This just feels different,” she admits. She is still on a path of discovering her heritage. Finding out at age 24 that you are native American, having never been told by any family member. Plus, having red hair, light skin and freckles makes it even more difficult to understand and to be accepted among natives.
“Are you ok to keep going, or do you need to stop a few minutes,” I ask. She is genuinely upset; physically affected by who or what is reaching out to her.
“I’m good. Maybe if we move a little further we can get away from it, they, them, oh damn Drake. I don’t know what is going on,” she says, with clear frustration in her voice.
“We are about 100 meters from the peak of this ridgeline. Think you can make it?”
“Sure.”
I put her in the point position, so I can keep a watch on her. We hike a few minutes and come to a section of the trail where rock outcroppings on both sides form a natural ‘pinch point.’ No reason to suspect our subject has placed any trip wires and explosives here, but still, it is second nature for me to be on high alert. When we get to the opposite side of the rocks, the trail widens back to normal, and I can see the peak of the ridge just ahead. Sparsely spaced, scraggly trees dot the top most portion, their growth stunted by the constant winds at this un-protected high peak.
“You take off your gear, We are going to stop here for a few minutes, as long as you don’t space out again,” I say jokingly, trying to get a rise out of her.
“Yea, this is fine.” Well, that was a little disappointing. She is definitely not herself.
“I am going to see if I can get a cell signal, or if the radio will work. I check both, and as I suspected, neither works. “I am going to climb up this slope a little further. Will you be ok here?”
“Sure. Knock yourself out.” She replies, still not herself.
The top of the slope is only a few meters. When I get to the top I try my cell again, but as I suspected, no connection. The radio isn’t any better. I try to contact comms but all I get is static. I head back down to where Julie is waiting. She has yet to take off her gear.
“You didn’t want to take off your pack? We can stay here and take a long break.” She doesn’t respond. I realize that we have been hiking for almost six hours. We have snacked, but we need something a little more substantial.
“Julie. Julie!” I call to her.
“Damn Drake, you don’t have to yell. I am right here” she comments, with her trademark sarcasm. Sure, makes me more at ease to hear that sharp tongue again. But she still sounds tired.
“No. I don’t want to take a break here, this isn’t a good place to camp. We need to backtrack to the pinch point,” she states rather emphatically, like she has gotten her second wind.
“Ok, that seems rather odd. Any specific reason,” I ask.
“Yes, there is weather moving in. We don’t want to be on a ridge. Trust me on this one, ok?” I will absolutely trust her on this point. After her experience on a mountain ridge in Air Borne Training, when a thunder storm rolled in quickly and two of her team were hit by lightning. She was between them, and the high voltage electrical charge connected with a recruit on her left, moved through the ground past Julie, and hit the recruit on the opposite side of her. It is unbelievable no one was killed.
“You got it, Ms. Callahan,” I reply.
“Plus, that is where the subject is waiting on us,” she comments.
“The search subject?” I ask.
“Yes, the search subject. Damn Drake. Keep up,” she replies as she begins moving back down the trail.