SIDNEY'S WALK
A nervous young man walked into the office and told his boss he was going to quit and move on. He thanked the old boy for the job, but then told him that it just wasn't for him. He left the buisiness and walked about four blocks to his ratty motel room where he packed a small bag, surveyed the dingy place for moment, and threw a few bucks on the bed to cover what was due. He closed the door behind him and walked past the motel office and strode on down the road. Sidney walked past about a dozen businesses until the town and the sidewalk ended. He kept going away from town walking on the edge of the two lane asphalt road. His reasons for leaving town are irrelevant. He was simply fed up with damn near everything; his job, the dirty motel room, the lousy food served at the diner, the lack of girls in town, and most important, there was no future here for him. He needed to get away, change something, or hit somebody. The system had won. The small Minnesota town he was leaving was surrounded by miles of rolling green hills and forested land separated by small but prosperous looking farms. The land in this area is thought by the local people to be the most beautiful part of the state - and it is.
.
Once a mile or two out of town Sidney kept walking. Traffic was light. One or truck car every twenty minutes. When one drove by with a roar and a whoosh, he didn't even look up. None slowed or stopped. Soon he had walked into open farm country. The day was warm, the sky was blue, and in the distance there was just a hint of a light grey haze above the horizon. Not sign of rain he decided. Ahead he saw a dirt farm road leading off to the right. It had been plowed not long ago but rain the previous week had caused the dirt surface to washboard. He turned off the asphalt onto the dirt road.
.
A bent and rusted roadside sign tacked to a telephone pole said "Double Deal Township - 12 Miles - Population 802. Sidney had never been there and never heard of it. He wondered if it was big enough to have a motel? The dirt road was just wide enough for two cars to pass. He figured that the main traffic must be tractors going from field to field and pickup trucks headed to town. Like most plowed dirt farm roads, there was a low berm on either side left by the plow.
.
Sidney was relieved to be walking away from things that had bothered him for a long time. He was quietly at peace walking in the sun toward something new. The day was pleasant and the air with it's vague smell of mowed grasses was invigorating. No traffic. The road was deserted. He walked for about 3 hours and not one car, truck or tractor went by in either direction. A ways back he had seen a man working a tractor in a distant field off to the left, but no other person had crossed his sight. He was quite alone and enjoyed the feeling.
.
A couple more hours went by and he was getting tired. His feet were beginning to hurt and his stomach was rumbling. Despite eating a Snickers candy bar a ways back, he was hungry. He thought he might be getting close to Double Deal but could see no evidence of it. The buzz of afternoon insects was noticeable. Damn horseflies wouldn't leave him alone.
.
He'd have to think about the immediate future and what he should do when he reached the town? The sun was disappearing fast. It would be dark when he arrived. He'd have to look for a cheap motel first thing. If none was available how would he find out if there was a room to rent someplace? Maybe he could ask around at a cafe or something.
.
A half hour later it was almost dark. Still no town. He picked up his pace a little. Then in the dim remaining light he noticed a small creek about 100 yards away and barely visible behind a stand of trees. A barbed wire fence was at the road side. On one fence post there was a battered old sign with several bullet holes in it that said "No Trespassing". He didn't hesitate spreading the wire and stepping through. He was sure that no one worried about trespassing around here. Besides, who was there to see him? He walked into the stand of trees stepping over and around the underbrush, a few stumps.
.
The creek was low in it's banks and slow moving. It was about 12 or 14 feet wide and the water looked deep and cold. In the fading light he could look up and down the creek about 50 feet from where he stood. Looking back where he came from he couldn't see the road at all. He found a place where the creek was not so deep in it's banks, knelt down, cupped his hands and took a sip. It tasted cool and fresh - so he took a larger drink. Then he rose and began slowly looking with care at his surroundings. He studied the forest of trees and their green canopy. He carefully made himself aware of the tangled underbrush and uneven ground covered with tall grasses. Sidney knew instinctively that this would be as good a place as any to set up camp for the night. He would then enter Double Deal in the morning, get some real breakfast, and find a place to roost for a spell.
.
He set about gathering grasses and tamping them in a small hollow under a sheltering bank about 20 feet from the stream. The natural fold in the earth and it's bank would make a good spot to sleep for the night. He' be just fine unless it rained, and it didn't look like it was going to. He was very hungry. What might he do for food? Knowing it would be difficult to find any kind of food in the dark, he accepted the idea of remaining hungry until the morning. He walked over to the creek bank and sat down on a dead log and idly sucked on a long piece of grass. He thought about the times he had gone fishing in the past".
.
The water was moving but the surface was flat and undisturbed in the moonlight. He noted a quick flap sound about 50 feet downstream. He looked toward it and saw rings of wavelets moving away from the point of the sound. It confirmed there were fish in this creek. There, over there, another flap. Oh yes, there were fish. If he could catch one in the morning he would have something for breakfast. He began thinking about just how he would do it with no string, hook or net. He thought hard about the problem. What would the Indians have done? Spears. Of course, spears. Satisfied, he yawned and went to sleep under a blanket of leaves and grass he had gathered.
.
He woke in the morning just before dawn. Opened his eyes to a peaceful scene as it became light. The creek looked crystal clear. The surrounding woods appeared green and sheltering. As he lay there he thought about the small knife in his pocket. The woods were filled with straight young saplings. He rose, shook off the leaves, stretched and walked a half dozen paces before he found just what he needed. Before long he had fashioned a fairly good fishing spear. The air beginning to warm. He stood over a pooling area at the side of the creek and watched in the morning light as several fish rose to the surface to catch insects riding the water. The fish were not very big, but big enough for breakfast. He counted his attempts. After 26 thrusts of the spear he began to lose confidence, but on the 27th he got a solid hit. The fish was about 12 inches long. He knew that after he cleaned it and cut off the head and tail he would have about 8 inches of edible fish left. It would do.
.
He had only 4 little paper matches left. He'd have to be very careful not to waste any. He gutted the fish and cleaned the scales. Then he threaded the fish on a thin sapling skewer and held it and set it aside. Then he gathered dead grasses and a pile of dry twigs, lit the tinder. It flamed easily and with authority. Quickly he added some small branches. Within a few minutes he had a respectable cooking fire. He held the skewer over the fire and the fish soon turned slightly brown. When it looked a little burned at the edges he figured it was thoroughly cooked. He enjoyed every bite.
By the time he finished the sun was up and the air was warming fast. He rinsed his face in the creek, put out the fire and returned to the road.
.
And that's when Sidney's story really begins.
A nervous young man walked into the office and told his boss he was going to quit and move on. He thanked the old boy for the job, but then told him that it just wasn't for him. He left the buisiness and walked about four blocks to his ratty motel room where he packed a small bag, surveyed the dingy place for moment, and threw a few bucks on the bed to cover what was due. He closed the door behind him and walked past the motel office and strode on down the road. Sidney walked past about a dozen businesses until the town and the sidewalk ended. He kept going away from town walking on the edge of the two lane asphalt road. His reasons for leaving town are irrelevant. He was simply fed up with damn near everything; his job, the dirty motel room, the lousy food served at the diner, the lack of girls in town, and most important, there was no future here for him. He needed to get away, change something, or hit somebody. The system had won. The small Minnesota town he was leaving was surrounded by miles of rolling green hills and forested land separated by small but prosperous looking farms. The land in this area is thought by the local people to be the most beautiful part of the state - and it is.
.
Once a mile or two out of town Sidney kept walking. Traffic was light. One or truck car every twenty minutes. When one drove by with a roar and a whoosh, he didn't even look up. None slowed or stopped. Soon he had walked into open farm country. The day was warm, the sky was blue, and in the distance there was just a hint of a light grey haze above the horizon. Not sign of rain he decided. Ahead he saw a dirt farm road leading off to the right. It had been plowed not long ago but rain the previous week had caused the dirt surface to washboard. He turned off the asphalt onto the dirt road.
.
A bent and rusted roadside sign tacked to a telephone pole said "Double Deal Township - 12 Miles - Population 802. Sidney had never been there and never heard of it. He wondered if it was big enough to have a motel? The dirt road was just wide enough for two cars to pass. He figured that the main traffic must be tractors going from field to field and pickup trucks headed to town. Like most plowed dirt farm roads, there was a low berm on either side left by the plow.
.
Sidney was relieved to be walking away from things that had bothered him for a long time. He was quietly at peace walking in the sun toward something new. The day was pleasant and the air with it's vague smell of mowed grasses was invigorating. No traffic. The road was deserted. He walked for about 3 hours and not one car, truck or tractor went by in either direction. A ways back he had seen a man working a tractor in a distant field off to the left, but no other person had crossed his sight. He was quite alone and enjoyed the feeling.
.
A couple more hours went by and he was getting tired. His feet were beginning to hurt and his stomach was rumbling. Despite eating a Snickers candy bar a ways back, he was hungry. He thought he might be getting close to Double Deal but could see no evidence of it. The buzz of afternoon insects was noticeable. Damn horseflies wouldn't leave him alone.
.
He'd have to think about the immediate future and what he should do when he reached the town? The sun was disappearing fast. It would be dark when he arrived. He'd have to look for a cheap motel first thing. If none was available how would he find out if there was a room to rent someplace? Maybe he could ask around at a cafe or something.
.
A half hour later it was almost dark. Still no town. He picked up his pace a little. Then in the dim remaining light he noticed a small creek about 100 yards away and barely visible behind a stand of trees. A barbed wire fence was at the road side. On one fence post there was a battered old sign with several bullet holes in it that said "No Trespassing". He didn't hesitate spreading the wire and stepping through. He was sure that no one worried about trespassing around here. Besides, who was there to see him? He walked into the stand of trees stepping over and around the underbrush, a few stumps.
.
The creek was low in it's banks and slow moving. It was about 12 or 14 feet wide and the water looked deep and cold. In the fading light he could look up and down the creek about 50 feet from where he stood. Looking back where he came from he couldn't see the road at all. He found a place where the creek was not so deep in it's banks, knelt down, cupped his hands and took a sip. It tasted cool and fresh - so he took a larger drink. Then he rose and began slowly looking with care at his surroundings. He studied the forest of trees and their green canopy. He carefully made himself aware of the tangled underbrush and uneven ground covered with tall grasses. Sidney knew instinctively that this would be as good a place as any to set up camp for the night. He would then enter Double Deal in the morning, get some real breakfast, and find a place to roost for a spell.
.
He set about gathering grasses and tamping them in a small hollow under a sheltering bank about 20 feet from the stream. The natural fold in the earth and it's bank would make a good spot to sleep for the night. He' be just fine unless it rained, and it didn't look like it was going to. He was very hungry. What might he do for food? Knowing it would be difficult to find any kind of food in the dark, he accepted the idea of remaining hungry until the morning. He walked over to the creek bank and sat down on a dead log and idly sucked on a long piece of grass. He thought about the times he had gone fishing in the past".
.
The water was moving but the surface was flat and undisturbed in the moonlight. He noted a quick flap sound about 50 feet downstream. He looked toward it and saw rings of wavelets moving away from the point of the sound. It confirmed there were fish in this creek. There, over there, another flap. Oh yes, there were fish. If he could catch one in the morning he would have something for breakfast. He began thinking about just how he would do it with no string, hook or net. He thought hard about the problem. What would the Indians have done? Spears. Of course, spears. Satisfied, he yawned and went to sleep under a blanket of leaves and grass he had gathered.
.
He woke in the morning just before dawn. Opened his eyes to a peaceful scene as it became light. The creek looked crystal clear. The surrounding woods appeared green and sheltering. As he lay there he thought about the small knife in his pocket. The woods were filled with straight young saplings. He rose, shook off the leaves, stretched and walked a half dozen paces before he found just what he needed. Before long he had fashioned a fairly good fishing spear. The air beginning to warm. He stood over a pooling area at the side of the creek and watched in the morning light as several fish rose to the surface to catch insects riding the water. The fish were not very big, but big enough for breakfast. He counted his attempts. After 26 thrusts of the spear he began to lose confidence, but on the 27th he got a solid hit. The fish was about 12 inches long. He knew that after he cleaned it and cut off the head and tail he would have about 8 inches of edible fish left. It would do.
.
He had only 4 little paper matches left. He'd have to be very careful not to waste any. He gutted the fish and cleaned the scales. Then he threaded the fish on a thin sapling skewer and held it and set it aside. Then he gathered dead grasses and a pile of dry twigs, lit the tinder. It flamed easily and with authority. Quickly he added some small branches. Within a few minutes he had a respectable cooking fire. He held the skewer over the fire and the fish soon turned slightly brown. When it looked a little burned at the edges he figured it was thoroughly cooked. He enjoyed every bite.
By the time he finished the sun was up and the air was warming fast. He rinsed his face in the creek, put out the fire and returned to the road.
.
And that's when Sidney's story really begins.
