SOLACE

A Work of Fiction
K.D. Clark

… The mountains beckon to me much the same as the sirens’ song lures mariners unto the rocks. Their bewitching beauty would surely lead to my destruction. …

Chas was a loner. That is not to say he was lonely. He was not. He was merely the type to find his peace, his love, and the beauty within his life - in his own psyche and in Nature. He did not relish the company of other children. He had little interest in their trivial goings-on. He cared little about his sister or his parents. He found them to be unimportant in his grand scheme of things. He did have one love though. His true passion was the mountains.

This love began when he was but a small lad of nine or ten. He had the good fortune of visiting the majestic Rocky Mountains with his family one early autumn. The frost had already laid claim to the evenings, but the days…

… Oh God, those days. …

He would wander through the trees; not knowing where the faint but definite, long used, wild paths would lead. He had no need to care either. While under the shadow of the leaves, a chill might creep over him. But the golden leaves were falling fast those days and there were more sunny spots than shade. The sun at that altitude could "sear to the bone" if allowed to rest in one spot for any length of time. Clear, clean, crisp mountain air, air with a conquering yet demure aroma – and piercing, provocative, perfect mountain sun. The combination of these two opposing moods formed the optimal atmosphere, an atmosphere conducive to introspection.

… It was in a small clearing of the underbrush that I found it. I found MYSELF lying there. …

Beneath him was the crackle of fallen leaves, a crisp golden blanket under which teem another unseen world of insects, worms and the like.

… They are not my enemies. …

Above him was the rustle of turning leaves – golder by the minute – and the whining, creaking branches of Aspen as they fulfilled their destiny to forever pay for not quaking at the sight of God’s might. Birds fluttered from branch to branch searching for food or just socializing with their friends. His place, his special place seemed to be a stopover in their migration south, a place to meet up with others from years past and rest up for the final leg of their long journey to winter warmth.

In his reverie, he must have drifted off for a short nap. His next awareness was a faint rustle of leaves somewhere over his right shoulder several yards above where he lay. His eyes opened and spied the most beautiful Mule Deer doe and yearling he had ever seen actually the first he had ever experienced in the wild. They were nibbling on the last of a berry bush, which he could not identify from his inverted viewpoint. He lay motionless, mesmerized by their beauty and thankful the slight breeze was following the pathway down the side of the mountain. He relished this moment. He savored the sight for as long as his youth would allow. His neck ached from the strain of gazing up and over his head. He ventured to roll over so as to gain an upright sighting; however, the racket of the downed leaves caused the two to start and bolt from the clearing. He cursed himself for his hasty moves but could not help gasping for breath, feeling his heart palpitate with joy at his treasure, a personal treasure which could not be explained nor experienced by any other being.

… TREASURE, a perfect word to describe the "mountain experience", for the mountains will give up their wealth to those who desire fame and fortune or their wealth can be hoarded and stored away within ourselves in reserve for soothing future pain and sorrow when only memories are available. …

Year after year, he longed for his day of escape, his gateway from the hustle-bustle of the crowded, stifling, oppressive city. His day of liberation which allowed him time. Time for more intense exploration of his retreat with each year’s maturity. And year after year the day came. Each new visit to his haven only served to broaden his love for and communion with the pristine innocence of Nature.

Early in Chas’ sixteenth year, his father met with a violent industrial accident and was hospitalized for months. It was one of those unfortunate, senseless accidents that occur when least expected or deserved. The family missed their yearly pilgrimage to the Rockies. Instead, they spent every spare moment at St. Joseph’s Memorial Hospital caring for their patriarch. Or at Our Lady of Pastoral Comfort …

… Our Lady of Perpetual Guilt …

… Chapel praying for a speedy recovery. Chas’ mother prayed for her strong dynamic husband to recover so he could return to his role as provider and lover and all would be as before. Chas prayed for a precipitous extrication from this hideous crisis so he could return to his private hideaway. Children are too honest at times. Chas wished no ill will for his father. He surely wanted the family to return to normalcy, doing regular family activities again. But he was a child and children are not maliciously selfish, they are merely self-preserving and the most important aspect of his life was the time he spent alone in his world of beauty and love …

… No arguing, no school work, no timetables, no hospitals …

… the perfect world of all encompassing protection of his mountain reality.

God, in his infinite wisdom, did not answer their prayers. After nearly four months of intense treatment Chas’ father lapsed into a coma and was lost to this world within two days.

… I miss him. I have missed him every day since. …

Chas chastised himself for an unknown agonizing period of time for not praying for the best interests of his father, thinking it could only have been the fault of a small, selfish child that his father should expire in his prime. Only years later would he come to appreciate the gifts God has given and understand that even when it seems He has taken something away … in fact, He has given again. Sometimes knowledge, sometimes maturity, and always strength from pain.

Many years passed before Chas was able to visit the mountains again. School, college and a short tour in Viet Nam kept him from them. There were mountains in Viet Nam. But those were harsh mountains. Unfriendly, stifling, malodorous, crowded, entwined with massive and minuscule vines and teemed with every beast imaginable just waiting for the kill. There was no peace to be found there. The angry howls and constant chatter of the monkey population coupled with the ever-present war-reality overshadowed the small amounts of beauty, which could be found in the morning mist and abundant flora. There was too much of everything there; too many animals, too many snakes, too many scents, too many bullets.

… These are my enemies, but my worst enemy - too much time. …

At the same time, there was not enough of anything there. There was not enough silence for introspection, not enough room for the abundant flora to fall to the ground and deteriorate without causing a stench, not enough peace and love to allow those poor souls to take time to understand the plight of their fellow man.

… It is in a small clearing of the underbrush that I lost it. The IT of which I am speaking is what use to be my left leg. I have been pinned down nearly three hours in a firefight. I am scared out of my wits. When I realize it is clear, I find I am separated from what is left of my platoon. Most of them had not made it. The few who had survived had scurried off through the tangled jungle for more secure cover. I am attempting to make it back to some semblance of civilization when I feel more than hear the faint click. …

Chas’ reaction was too late. He had already begun to release the trip. Millions of thoughts and emotions flashed through his mind, as he was catapulted up and over. He had not been far from his comrades the whole time. They had been unaware of each other’s presence. A scout from among the stragglers of his platoon was sent to investigate the explosion. Chas was med-evaced to 93rd Evacuation Hospital in Long Binh as soon as a chopper was cleared to land.

He lay in a lonely hospital bed, surrounded by countless others in various states of disrepair. During this time he had nothing to do but contemplate the possibilities of his future. Chas had studied and planned to be a forester. His life was to be fulfilled by caring for the one place on this cold Earth where he felt whole. Would that all be for naught? Would his beloved mountains be too much for him to master in his condition? He wandered aimlessly throughout his mind, a place in which he should have been safe and secure. He searched for answers where there were none. Stage after stage passed - fear, self-pity, anger, understanding, determination, and acceptance.

During this period of horror, he was shuffled from Long Binh to Tokyo where he was treated for three months or so and finally transferred to Houston VA hospital for therapy and rehabilitation. After nine months of intense physical and psychological therapy he was released. A new man. A real man. A strong man. Part of his anatomy may have been artificial; however, it was his and he was determined to make it a functioning portion of his real self.

After his release from the VA hospital, he had a mission to find himself. Yet he was unsure. He held up, almost hid out, at his mother’s house for a while, but he was not there. He attempted looking for work, but his heart was not in it. He visited every old haunt he could bring to mind … the whole time avoiding the one true locale, which would allow him to get a handle on and pigeonhole his feelings, to come to terms with himself.

… I walk. I walk and look. I walk and look and drink in the glorious mountain air. Sweet, clean, purifying air. I learned at the VA hospital that the medical community had begun using total oxygen atmospheres for speedy regeneration of severely burned flesh. In much the same manner this mountain air serves to cleanse and heal my emotional as well as physical wounds. I am safe now, safe here. …

The leaves were as green as the eyes of a hefty tomcat during that early spring day. The first pasque flowers were peeking out of the pine needles. A gentle breeze was blowing and raising a roar among the tops of the Ponderosas that reminded Chas of a large appreciative audience. He was finally home and all was well with the world.

He had packed judiciously for his journey. Tramping through the jungles of Viet Nam had given him the expertise to stow all the essentials and avoid any unnecessary weight or volume. He planned to backpack from Blackhawk to Durango. The distance between the two is barely 250 miles - as the crow flies. However, over hill and dale as Chas would be trekking would take him over Front Range gravel, through thick stands of Ponderosa Pines, up to delicate Alpine meadows, and across the Continental Divide at five different points before finally winding out of the San Juan Mountains.

Four months should be sufficient time to allow for this essential commune with Nature and still fix his arrival well before the first snows became dangerous in this unpredictable land. The first evening he found himself in a shallow valley graced with a babbling brook. Several large boulders jutted out from the side of the mountain. These would offer protection from the early evening winds. He assured himself this would be an ideal site for his first night’s bivouac. He loosed his camouflaged shelter tarp and fashioned a fine example of a home.

… This home will serve me well without disturbing such a pristine setting. …

In this home he placed his mummy bag and his pack and ventured out into the woods in search of firewood. Wood is plentiful in the forest; however, his forestry education taught him that he only wanted downed wood - wood which would not violate the natural design of this hallowed domain. His mind wandered as he roamed the area. How long it had been since his first mountain experience. He savored the memories of sights, smells, sounds, and feelings long misplaced deep within the realms of his heart and mind.

… MMM, trees…paths…leaves…branches…birds…animals. It is in a small clearing where I find it. I find myself - MY TRUE SELF. …

He found the free, consummate self he had always known existed somewhere. He gave in to an uncontainable torrent of emotions and sobbed helplessly, totally exposed to alien personal sensations. Pleasure and sorrow joined and poured out uncontrollably to his exhaustion. Exhaustion won out and sleep was the only salve available.

A noise, a movement, a rustling on the ridge below prompted him to stir. There they were. A Mulie doe and fawn. Save for the few months lacking in age of the youngster, it could have been an exact replica of the two he had savored fifteen years prior. He lay there and drank in their beauty - not wanting this moment to end, yet fully aware that nothing lasts forever.

Stealthily he inched toward the two in hopes of becoming one with this vision of Nature. They heard him not. He had been trained well to move through the terrain without a sound so as to fool his enemies.

… These are not my enemies - they are my family, MY TRUE FAMILY. …

Short gasps of breath and the palpitations within his heart proved out his joy at this personally treasured moment. Reminiscence drenched his very being and dizzily filled him with pure ecstasy.

… GASP!!! …

Chas glanced at his chest and absorbed the sight with awe. He thought at first his mind had surely loosed its trip. He felt pinned and yet suspended. He could not feel the sensation of falling, yet he did fall. The crack of leaves beneath him caused the two deer to bolt and flee and served only to magnify the tear in his chest.

A young boy, not more than nine or ten, rushed to his side. The boy had been hunting with his new compound bow. He had been hiding behind the large boulders above Chas’ camouflaged home. He had not seen Chas. He had been intent on bringing down one of the two deer. Chas had been trained well to move through the terrain without being noticed - too well.

… A boy is standing over me. I will be fine. Well, no, he is below me. I am, or my bloodied body is, there for him to look down upon with fear and wonder. I am, or my consciousness is, here to look down upon the scene with wonder and praise. …

… Now I understand. Now I can take with me - forever - this perfect world of all encompassing protection - my mountain reality. I can appreciate the gifts God has given. I know this boy too will learn - as I - the truths of life. You see, even when it seems He has taken something away … in fact, He has given again. Sometimes knowledge, sometimes maturity, and always strength from pain. …