The Only Possibility
Helga and Breister didn’t travel far before they stumbled upon a stream that appeared suitable for their boat. Twilight was giving way to deepening dark, and they made camp and cooked supper. Helga made a hearty soup from slugs, rockbeets and snowberries, while Breister baked pine nut bread. They ate happily and then each bedded down under a cloak for the night.
The next morning they launched their boat and set out. The river was swift and there were frequent rapids. But their boat was sturdy and they were fearless.
The rapids proved to be far more dangerous than they could easily handle, however. Their vessel plunged wildly and sometimes spun crazily out of control. They used their long oars as poles to push away from on-rushing boulders, or to regain control of their craft as it flew through the spray. Water sloshed around their ankles, and the beleaguered Wood Cows bailed frantically to keep the boat from sinking. For nearly an hour they found no rest or relief.
Happily, as the water in the boat rose to dangerous levels, the Wood Cows found a rock jutting out into the river that provided a secure place to tie their boat and a narrow ledge to stand upon. Joyfully, for the first time in their pell-mell, cascading trip down the river, they were able to get out of their boat and stand on solid ground.
Slumping to the ground, resting and thoughtful, they were quiet for a time. Then, Helga, who had leaned her head back against the rock wall, spoke. “The rock carries an unusual amount of vibration,” she said. “It’s as if there is a far-off rumbling...perhaps there is a gigantic falls around the bend.”
“But there’s no mist rising to the sky, Helga,” Breister mused. “If there were a great falls, there would be clouds of mist rising into the sky. It must be something else...but what?”
“We can’t go forward without knowing what lies ahead,” Helga observed. “We’ll have to explore, before we go further on this river.”
Her father agreed, but they realized that was a difficult task. Rising perhaps 3,000 feet on both sides of the stream, sheer cliffs seemed to block any advance. Retreat was also impossible. The force and speed of the river made it impossible that they could force their boat back upstream. The only possibility was to go forward. But how?
“I think I can climb the cliff to the top,” Helga said softly, as if to herself. “There are breaks and ledges enough that I could climb up, then follow the river to see what’s ahead. What do you think?”
“I think you have to try it,” Breister began. “You used to climb all over everything when you were young. You can scout the river downstream and perhaps find a safe route for the boat. When you return, we’ll make a plan.”
Helga gave her father a long look, as they both considered what lay ahead. Then she prepared to leave.
“Catch some fish for us,” Helga said. “We’ll have a good fish fry when I get back...” Her voice trailed off as they both realized how long that might be, if ever. Helga threw her arms around her father in a lingering final embrace. Then she gathered a bit of food and water in a pack and began to climb.
Breister stood for a long while watching Helga skillfully pick her way up the lower portion of the cliff. He admired her courage. Taking one last look after his daughter, Breister settled down and dropped his fishing line in the river...