A Walk in the Woods by Martin G. Hamilton

The old jeep rolled silently through the dark corridor of Hemlocks which were bent over with snow. The engine shut off and it rolled gracefully to a stop. The two young men got out and stretched. It was dawn and everything that was covered with snow was cast in the cool blue-grayness of morning. They both stood for a moment drinking in the reverent silence that was only occasionally broken by the hush of a wind through the tops of the trees and their own breathing. It was these silences that sent shivers up both the boys spines.

They retrieved their day-packs from behind the seats and put them on over their heavy parkas.

"Do you want to go up to the ridge?" One said to the other.

"That sounds good to me, what's the record?"

"You and you're damned record times!" the first young man said with a smile "Just for that you can break trail!" They both laughed.

Jeremy took the lead for the first part of the hike. His pace was as fast as usual even though the walking was little tricky because of the new fallen snow. It had really come down the night before and the trail was deep. It was strange after a whole summer and fall of walking this same trail to see it covered. It seemed foreign. Familiar roots, patches of ferns, boulders and logs all covered like furniture in a summer cottage that's been shut for the winter.

John was staring down trying to stay in his friend's tracks. He would occasionally glance up to see how far Jeremy was ahead and glance to the right to see how close he was to the edge of the deep ravine that they had been skirting for the past ten minutes. It was almost straight down and the perspective made John slightly dizzy if he looked to long, even though the view was rugged and beautiful. The steep slopes were doused with rocks and small Hemlocks whose trunks, because of the steepness, jutted out and up at ninety degree angles.

This hike had been a Sunday tradition for the two young men ever since high school. They called it "Sunday School" but it only truly became a tradition after John's mother had died and the official private pact was made between the two deep in the woods of upstate New York. This is what John was thinking about when it happened.

He really didn't see it happen at all, he was deep inside his walking rhythm, staring at the snow covered trail, concentrating on Jeremy tracks, when he suddenly realized that they had ceased. Jeremy had gone over the edge.

John quickly scrambled to the side. "Oh shit." he whispered as he threw himself carelessly over the edge and continued his frenzied decent down the sharp jagged walls of the ravine to find his friend. He saw Jeremy's body halfway down. His fall had been broken by one of the Hemlocks. He looked crumpled and broken. John was trying to look for some movement, some sign of life, and at the same time slipping and sliding, barely in control down the steep bank.

"J'air, Are ya all right? J'air, say something buddy. . . Talk to me . . . I'm coming." He slid feet first the rest of the way down using his hands and feet to keep him off the bigger rocks. He saw Jeremy's path and noticed he didn't have the same luck.

He reached his friend and shook him lightly. "Jeremy, are you okay?" Jeremy stirred a little then his head turned revealing a warm smile.

"Yeah, I'm great!" he said sarcastically and his warm smile widened to a cheesy grin, a Jeremy trademark.

"Oh man! You scared the hell out of me! I didn't even see you fall!"

"It happened pretty fast, I hardly remember it myself! Can you help me back up the hill? I can't seem to shake these birds flying around my head."

John laughed "No problem!"

It seemed like getting up the bank was easier than coming down. Jeremy's arm was draped over John's shoulder and the two together seemed to float up the side, laughing about the incident all the way. They stopped at the top.

"Do you want to go back to the car crash test dummy?" asked John with a sympathetic smile.

"Hell no!" Jeremy yelled, defending his pride, another Jeremy trademark.

"You sir, have the biggest balls in New York!"

Jeremy shrugged and grinned. "Let's go to the ridge, but . . ." he paused, "you lead this time, and NO STOPPING! You know how I hate to break my rhythm!"

"Are you ready?" John asked.

Jeremy raised his arms high in the air and smiled "I'm ready."

John started the pace and after only three minutes found a good walking rhythm. It was faster than he usually walked, but he knew Jeremy would be happy with it. He took his eyes off the white quilted trail ahead of him and looked up and into the forest. The trees were frosted and thick narrow blankets of snow covered even the smallest of limbs. Once in awhile the breeze would send the little piles toppling down on each other and leaving behind a glittering dust of snow in the early morning sun.

"I don't remember ever coming up here when it was this pretty." John called back to Jeremy.

"Same here." answered Jeremy. His voice sounded incredibly clear in the cold morning air.

"How many years has it been? Us coming up here I mean?"

"Seven." Jeremy answered.

The early rays of the sun were just reaching the tops of the trees and spilling orange-yellow light down through the canopy, then pooled on the forest floor. The trail turned slightly to the left and it started to rise. The Hemlocks were thinning and the woods turned to Ash, Poplar and Oak. The huge Oaks still had leaves clinging to some of their branches and these rattled hollowly in the breeze. John smiled. "Why do we do it J'air?" he called back. "I mean I have my reasons for getting up every Sunday at an hour most people would describe simply as 'sick', but what about you?" He made some quick, fancy steps and danced over some windfall.

"Well," Jeremy started "Some people go to church on Sunday, some people watch football, some people wash their car, some people are at the bar at 12:03 finishing up their first bourbon and beer chaser, and others just sit back and read a great book. Truth be known, all of these things sound good to me right now, but I prefer this, this is my way. Hey, speed up a little!"

"Can I ask you a weird question J'air?"

"Shoot."

"Okay, this is gonna sound a little weird, but have you ever felt like, . . . jeez , how do I say this? Like . . . like the woods are giving you something? I mean like something medicinal or even . . .I don't know . . . spiritual?"

"Yes! I know that feeling!" Jeremy's voice sounded like crystal. "When you're absorbing, when you're soaking up the smell and the sights and the sounds and the wind and everything and you feel like you're expanding inside!"

"YES! That's exactly what I'm talking about! It's like everything is working together!"

"I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one that's felt that way." Jeremy called up.

"Me too." John called back. They walked silently for a long time, soaking in the forest. John saw some squirrel and deer tracks from earlier in the morning. The sun had risen and more golden light was pouring into the woods and running down the trunks of the trees. All of these things were saturating John and he smiled and pressed on up the hill. The trail wound its way up, sometimes steeply sometimes flattening out and even going down for a short distance only to rise again sharply. They rounded a corner through some Oaks and flushed out five turkeys that had been scratching for acorns. They walked on.

"We're almost to the top," John called back "Do you want me to slow down a bit?"

"NO!" Jeremy shouted "Don't slow down, keep going. I just wanted to tell you before we get to the top, thank you for the past seven years. The other reason I come here every Sunday is to be with you buddy. You're my best friend. Don't slow down John! Keep climbing! I also want you to know that whatever happens, I promise to keep the pact. I'm here when ever you are. You're slowing down John! Don't slowdown! We're almost there! All the way up!" Jeremy's voice echoed through the woods with an eerie crispiness.

John wiped the tears from his face and wiped his nose with the back of his glove. He quickened his pace when the overlook came into view on the ridge ahead.

"Do you read me John? Do you hear what I'm telling you?" Jeremy's voice rang.

"Uh huh." John sobbed meekly to himself.

"Let me hear you say 'Yes' John, before you stop!" The trail was at it's steepest now and the muscles in his legged burned as he stomped up the last stretch of the trail towards the overlook. He could hardly see through the flood of tears.

"Say it John!"

"Yes!" John cried and he came to an abrupt halt on the steep lip of the overlook. He stared down at the other hills and the valley below. The wind blew slightly here. John pulled off his cap and let it blow through his sweaty, matted hair. He stood perfectly still in the middle of the silence. The trees creaked and swayed and the snow under his boot squeaked slightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He listened to the rattle and rush of the tall, hollow, golden grass that stuck up through the snow. It was quiet. Tears streamed down his cheeks again. John took a deep breath and prepared to turn around and see what he now expected to see all the way back down to the ravine where his friend's body still lay crumpled around a Hemlock, and that was one set of footprints on the quilted forest floor.

  © 1996, Martin G. Hamilton

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