Jasper's Mountain - Part 5

“Jasper,” she whispers.

A woman with long, golden wavy locks and deep brown eyes reaches her hand out towards his and squeezes his sturdy yet gentle palm.

He holds her wrist with his thumb and pointer finger and slowly twists it back and forth in the sunlight, examining the creases and lines that make up her hand. He traces the lines running through her palm from point to point, as if he will forever ingrain himself in her life by doing so.

“Stay, Jasper. Please. Stay,” she pleads.

He drops her wrist and pulls her down by the shoulders to lay on his chest in the grass.

“I can’t,” he whispers back in her ear.

Jasper’s eyes pop open when he is woken with a fright due to the snapping of a branch. His breathing is fast and heavy. He scans out of his shelter to see what made the noise. His eyes land on a young buck and his pounding heart begins to slow down. He rests his head back down on the bed of brush and his eyes close once more and drifts back to sleep.

The day is caste in low hanging, dark clouds and the feeling of doom surrounds him as soon as he steps foot in the town he knows so well.

Home.

Black pieces of snow are falling all around him. He reaches his palm face up to catch one, and as he rubs it between his fingers, he realizes it is not in fact snow, but ash that is showering the town.

The stillness and silence of the town is deafening. Looking down the road, he observes that all of the small homes are black, ash stricken, and burnt. Panic rises in his chest and he breaks into a run.

This is his town. Here is where he left her.

He runs three blocks before making a hard right down a smaller road. He sprints to the end and stops in front of the home on the right. Everything is scorched. The wind blows the black, ripped curtains out the window towards the woods. He bounds up the three stairs to the porch and walks in the open door.

Jasper begins coughing from all of the ash he has inhaled during his run. He pulls his shirt over his mouth and nose as he slowly moves through the house. He walks to the bedroom in the back of the house. The door is jarred and he cannot easily open it.

“No!” He yells out.

He steps back and kicks the door in, and as it opens, he falls to his knees.

Jasper wakes with a jolt, breathing hard. This time when he looks out, it is dark.

How long have I been asleep?

The moon is shining bright and lights up the snow covered mountain. He moves at the rate of a sloth, testing out each limb of his body and checking his movability before exiting his lean-to. Once he is confident his body is working properly, he emerges from his shelter. His stomach breaks the silence with its growling. He grabs his pack out of the lean-to and searches for his forgotten food. Ravenously, he stuffs his food into his mouth, scanning the area around him as he does so. The control it takes Jasper to not consume all of the food he has brought with him is immense, but he knows he may need it later if he runs into more trouble getting off of this mountain. He lifts his canteen to his trembling lips and swallows the last bit of what was left. He scoops some snow in the canteen and sets out to find some water, and begin his descent down the mountain.

The snow that fell while he slept equals to about two feet. Each step Jasper makes sinks him deep into the snow.

This is going to be a slow hike.

Jasper inhales a deep breath.

You can do this.

Jasper's Mountain - Part 4

Jasper has been on the mountain far too long. He is unaware of how the hypothermia is quietly creeping up on him and is taking over his rational, capable body and mind. Only as his hands begin to shake uncontrollably while he tries to handle his canteen does he realize something is very wrong. He becomes aware of just how rapid and shallow his breathing is, which throws him into a fit of anxiety. It takes everything in him to calm down and remain composed. His eyes rapidly glance side to side, up and down, surveying the scene. The snow continues to fall from the foggy ceiling. There is not much to be seen on this white mountain top.

You can do this. You’ve been in worse conditions and more trying situations. Make a plan and act now.

Jasper focuses on inhaling deep, controlled breaths and exhaling through his pursed, blue lips.

Realizing he doesn’t have much time to rewarm himself before he loses control of his logic, he rules out the idea of making the what must be an 8 mile trek back to his cabin. Instead, he makes a plan to build a shelter on the mountain. He is desperate to at least hike back down the mountain, but understands he wouldn’t make it down in time and still have the energy to create a strong, warm shelter.

If you want to make it out, you are going to have to start building.

Jasper climbs down a tenth of a mile from the top to find some shelter within the trees. Reaching his numb and shaking hand into his pants pocket, he pulls out his large, sharp knife and slides it out of it’s sheath. He finds a low hanging v-shaped branch to cut down. Holding above the base of the branch with his left hand, he uses his right to set the blade hard against the end where it connects to the trunk of the tree.

Hold steady Jasper.

Back and forth, back and forth, Jasper pushes and pulls the blade hard against the branch. His heavy breaths fill the air and creates a rhythmic beat with the back and forth cuts the sound of the knife makes. Pulling the blade, deep breath in, pushing the blade, pursed breath out. Jasper’s focus heightens on keeping his hands steady, knowing how dire the consequences of cutting his flesh open would be. With one last push of the blade and exhaled breath, the branch falls to the ground and Jasper releases his left hand, places it on his thigh, and relaxes his shoulders forward. Carefully, he slips the knife back into its sheath and places it back in his pocket. He pushes his hands off of his thighs to stand up straight. As he stands, he lifts his head back to breathe in deep gulps of the frigid air.

After he catches his breath, he pulls the branch towards the base of the trunk that is facing down slope of the mountain that is a flattened area. He places the v-branch upside down with the tip pointing skyward. He then anchors a large branch from the tip of the v-branch to the ground, serving as the spine.  

He looks over to the right and sees another tree with low hanging branches. Methodically, Jasper snaps branches off in different lengths. He hauls the load of branches he has snapped, cut and gathered and begins creating the ribs of his shelter by stacking shortest to tallest branches perpendicular on the spine going from the end up to the top.

Once his structure resembles an overstuffed rib cage, he cuts off large strips of bark from surrounding trees and lays them on the inside of his shelter, covering the entire ground surface under the ribs. He piles the bark a couple of inches high before he is satisfied.

Jasper’s body shakes harder and as much as he fights it, he cannot control his body from moving on its own terms. His eyes dart around as he desperately searches for brush with which to fill his lean-to to keep warm. A fallen tree catches his eye. He puts one foot in front of the other as he trudges towards it. Each step lands hard into the ground as gravity pulls his wobbly legs down towards the earth. Jasper lets out a loud grunt when he makes it to the tree. He finds dead leaves hiding under the tree and goes about gathering and transporting the leaves to his shelter. Each load becomes more desperate and difficult for Jasper. On his last load back to the shelter, with his arms piled high with brush, his right foot catches the back of his left and he flies forward, falling on his belly. He clings to what was left of the load and lets out a piercing, guttural scream. Saliva clings to the bottom and top of his lips, and as he opens his mouth and screams, strands of spit bows out like sails on a ship before exploding forth on the dead leaves surrounding his head.

Move Jasper!

With each shaky movement, Jasper grunts. He gets to his knees, then places first the right foot, and then the left on the ground before slowly standing up. As he carries what was left in his arms towards his shelter, he counts his steps.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Tears stream down his now dirt stricken face from the brush, making clean streaks develop down his face.

At last, he makes it to his lean-to and places the last of the brush inside, climbing in after it. Looking out at the snow drifting down from his small hole in the front of his shelter, he feels himself also drifting into a sleep he isn’t confident that he will ever wake up from.

Jasper's Mountain - Part 3

After Jasper hikes almost 5 miles east of his cabin, he stops to take a long pull from his canteen and to eat some food before he keeps moving. As he sits there eating and drinking, he looks up at the mountain he plans to summit that day. The tip of the mountain is hidden by large puffy clouds and creates a yearning within Jasper to uncover what secrets may lie behind it’s misty walls; as if summiting this mountain will bring him clarity and wisdom.

Jasper takes off his snowshoes and walks down to the creek on his right to refill his canteen. While dipping the canteen down into the river, his fingertips are immersed in the bone chilling water and the cold pierces through his skin and sends chills down his back. He takes extra precaution to rewarm his hands in his fur before continuing his journey. He leaves his snowshoes at the base of the mountain and begins his ascent. The snow has ceased to fall and all that can be heard is Jasper’s labored breathing as he slowly climbs higher and higher.

His thoughts carry him back to the river.

What was it that I sensed at the river? Was it just an animal watching me, or was it another human? I know there were eyes tracking my every move, but could it be they were eyes in some other spiritual realm I cannot even see or fathom? Am I going crazy? No. Jasper, you are not crazy. Stay alert. Whatever or whomever had their eyes on you most likely is still watching. Keep your eyes open and keep moving. They may just leave you be. Let your actions show you are not aware of their presence, but let your mind be ever present in scanning your surroundings and observing any movements.

The day creeps along and as Jasper struggles to stay alert while slowly ascending, he grows tired. He begins slipping and stumbling through the snow. He steps up onto a rock and slips on his right foot. He grasps out at the snow and dirt, falling up onto the mountain. He lays there taking in deep breaths, with his belly and face pressing hard against the side of the mountain. Exhaustion whispers into his ear to stay like this for a while. “Close your eyes,” it tells him, “rest your head and heart here and it will all get better, you’ll see.”

Get it together. You are stronger than this.

He pushes on, disregarding exhaustion’s persuasive and irrational words and continues climbing higher.

Not much farther from here. You can do this. Stay focused and alert.

Jasper feels his legs becoming shaky and his breathing is more rapid and shallow. He approaches the white cloud covering that still hangs over the tip, and reaches his hand up into it, half expecting to feel something tangible. There is nothing there to grab, so he pushes his body through the cloud and reaches the top. He is floating in a white cloud on top of the mountain. He stands here for a while staring at the blankness that encompasses him. His labored breathing begins to calm down and he sits on a flat rock he cleans free of snow. He sits and waits. Waits for the clarity to hit him in the face.

As time passes, he hopes for even a slight whisper of knowledge to pass by him. Jasper is unaware of how long he’s been sitting on that rock now. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Time is not making sense anymore.

His heart begins to sink as nothing changes. His eyes are cast up towards the white abyss and tears roll down his cheeks as he realizes his pursuit of discovering meaning is failing him.

“Tell me what the point is. Tell me what to do,” he sobs in a whisper out into the quiet, open air.

As snot seeps down his mustache, it burns his now bleeding, chapped lips, and travels through his beard. Jasper doesn’t care.

What are you doing? Breathe.

He takes a deep breath in and lets it out; focusing solely on breathing.

In and out. In and out.

Good, that’s right. Now, take a drink, eat some food, and stay alive.

He grabs for his canteen and his limbs seem to be moving in slow motion. Opening the top of the canteen becomes a laborious process and takes all of Jasper’s focus to succeed. He is so relieved when he is able to get the top off. Drinking is an ordeal in itself, as his mouth forgets how to hold water in and swallow. Water drains down the sides of his beard and fall onto his fur skin lap.

Keep breathing, Jasper. In and out. In and out.