Timecachers (10 page)

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Authors: Glenn R. Petrucci

Tags: #Time-travel, #Timecaching, #Cherokee, #Timecachers, #eBook, #American Indian, #Fiction, #Fantasy, #Trail of Tears, #Native American

BOOK: Timecachers
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The team turned in for the night, sharing a furtive smile as Sal tried to inconspicuously reposition his sleeping bag.

Chapter ten

T
he crunch of gravel beneath the Suburban’s tires at the Fort Mountain State Park parking area roused the team from their quiet ruminations about the day ahead. They made good time to the state park by taking a couple of back roads, courtesy of the LANav’s superb mapping capabilities, and at the same time checked off a few additional test suites that they had planned for automobile navigation. Many commercial GPS receivers failed to keep up with a moving vehicle when the maps were extensively detailed, but the TSO LANav’s computer handled the quickly scrolling maps flawlessly.

They had risen at dawn, broke camp, and made quick work of the five mile hike back to the trailhead, then enjoyed a quiet ride through the Chattahoochee forest to Fort Mountain, anticipating the excitement of the day. It was a pleasant surprise to find that the state had installed roads even deeper into the park, and they would be able to reach the stone wall ruins, now less than half a mile from the parking lot. Even better, they would have more time to explore the ruins since they could reach the first beacon location quicker than they had planned. The chilled mountain air, not yet warmed by the early morning sun, filled their lungs, invigorating them with enthusiasm. Stretching as they exited the vehicle, they decided to leave their equipment behind until they had a chance to explore the ruins, and only take a few items necessary for a short hike. They would hike out to the first beacon after they examined the stone wall, and return to the vehicle if additional backpacking or climbing equipment was required.

“Hey man, why not just take all our junk now?” asked Sal. “Save us a hike back to the SUV.”

“We could,” Adam answered, “but I thought it would be better to get a look at the area around the first beacon. Plus, we want to spend some time checking out the ruins; better to do that without all the heavy gear.”

It was still early morning, so there were not yet many visitors and the parking area was nearly empty. A sign reading “stone wall” pointed them to a well-kept paved path leading north. Not more than a few hundred feet along the trail was an overlook with a breathtaking view of the mountains of the Cohutta Wilderness Area, where they had spent the previous night. The morning sunshine illuminated the bright, spring-green fields and budding treetops below. Adjacent to the forest they could see a quilted collage of recently tilled and planted fields of the farms in the valley. The sky was clear and bright-blue. The few high, fluffy clouds cast steam-gray, shadows meandering across the landscape, and a maze of crisscrossing mining and fire roads further added to the patchwork effect.

As they reveled in the view, they noticed a few more cars in the parking lot; mountain bikers who were unloading and preparing to head out on the trail. Fort Mountain State Park is a popular mountain biking spot, having miles of challenging bike trails with plenty of rocks, boulders, red clay, and steep climbs. Their envy of the bikers was evident as they watched them unpack; this park would be an awesome biking adventure! Delaware, being mostly flat, had a few hilly single track bike trails, but reaching challenging mountain biking terrain almost always meant going out-of-state. Adam had considered bringing their bikes along to use on the trails that allowed bikes. He knew that there would be times that they would be hiking in the back country where bikes would not be practical, and so decided against the idea. Looking at the view from the overlook almost made him regret that decision, and he made a note on his mental to-do list to schedule a return trip with the bikes. The bikers rolled past them as they made their way to the ruins of the stone wall, just a short ride from the first overlook.

“Man, what an awesome day for a ride,” said Sal.

“Yes, indeed,” Tom agreed, “but it’s a good day to explore the ruins and take a hike, too. I’d be willing to wager that any one of the bikers would jump at the chance to give up their ride today for some hands-on time with the LANav.”

“You think so, dude?” asked Sal. “Hey, Adam, do you mind if I make a deal with one of these cats? His bike for the day in exchange for some LANav fun time?”

“Not if you don’t mind my giving him your pay to go with it,” Adam answered.

“On second thought,” said Sal, “I better not let you chumps go without me. You probably won’t be able to do without my highly developed technical skills.”

“We could definitely do without your highly developed ego,” said Alice with a wink to Tom and Adam.

They descended the overlook platform and followed the path to the stone wall. There was an informational sign about the wall giving the dimensions and some background theories about its origins. The 855 foot long structure ran east-west along the highest point of the mountain, and had a number of shallow depressions spaced about thirty feet apart. In a few places the wall’s height reached nearly six feet, but on average was only about two or three feet high. In other places the wall was no more than a pile of rubble.

“The sign has several different stories about how the wall came to be here,” said Tom. “Actually, they really don’t have any idea what it was for, or when it was built for that matter. The most accepted theory is that it was built by woodland Indians around 500 BC as a fortification. I’ve even heard one suggestion that it wasn’t constructed at all, but just a natural formation of hard rocks that were left by erosion.”

“Looks more like Fred Flintstone’s backyard fence to me,” said Sal. “Hey, Wilma, fetch me a Bronto-burger, pronto!” he said to Alice.

“You’d be better off with some Flintstone Vitamins. You look more like Barney than Fred,” Alice said.

“Hey, that’s cool,” Sal chirped. “I always thought Betty was a pretty hot number. Yabba-dabba-do!”

“Oh, hush. You obviously have the maturity of Pebbles,” Alice sighed.

The sun warmed the air as it rose higher in the sky, and the radiated heat from the rock wall added to the increasing warmth as they scrabbled around it, discussing a few more serious ideas about the significance of the structure. They concluded that the most logical purpose of the wall would have been for defense. Whatever the real use may have been, the construction had taken a tremendous effort by someone. An 855 foot span of thousands of rocks would have taken even a large group of laborers many weeks to put in place.

They followed the path northerly for a few hundred yards past the wall to a more recent structure; a stone fire-tower. The fire tower had been built in the 1930’s on the highest point of the mountain by the Civilian Conservation Corp, and provided the rangers an ideal vantage point to watch for fire outbreaks in the entire park and much of the surrounding forest. There was a set of wooden stairs leading to the access door of the tower. The team only glanced inside one of the lower openings as they walked past, choosing instead to head for an overlook just northwest of the tower. This second overlook afforded a panoramic view down the western slope of the mountain and the adjoining countryside north of the park boundary.

Looking to the left from the overlook, they could see the streets and buildings of Chatsworth and the smaller surrounding communities far below. Directly ahead and to the north, the looming mountain peaks of the Cohutta Wilderness area were visible through the thin Georgia haze. They watched as several hawks, floating in the gradually warming air, hunted for a mid-morning snack as they drifted over the treetops. Several smaller birds, too far away to recognize, darted between the gliding hawks. Beyond the mountaintops, about fifteen miles further north, was Tennessee.

“Sure don’t have views like this back in Delaware,” said Adam, his voice breaking the spell of the glorious view. “I’d like to stand here enjoying it, but if you’re all done gazing we need to get down to work.”

Adam retrieved the LANav from his belt pack and adjusted its settings to show the location of the anomalies. As he faced north from the overlook, the LANav indicated that the beacon was almost directly to his right and less than half a mile from their present location. He consulted with Tom, who had brought along a topographical map, and together they traced a line that would give them the most accessible route to their target.

“To reach the beacon from here,” Adam began, “we’ll need to hike easterly for only about a half-mile. The heading to the beacon is at about seventy degrees, but there are two ravines between us and it. The first is the little gulley you can see from here, just to the right. The beacon is actually inside the second little valley. Our best approach is going to be to walk along the mountaintop until we reach the second gulley, and then head down. Tom will plot our route along the map, but we will try to rely on the LANav’s maps as much as possible. He’ll plot our course on the map, just in case the LANav has a problem. The first beacon is so close we won’t need any other navigation equipment.

“I don’t believe that the terrain is rough enough to need climbing gear, but we can assess that when we reach the point where we have to descend. It’s a short hike, so we can return to the vehicle for equipment if we think we need it. Everyone ready?”

The three responded positively, with even more enthusiasm than Adam expected. They were finally getting a chance to find out exactly what, if anything, was causing the mysterious anomalies. While they all hoped to discover that the source of the anomalies had some exciting significance, even if the beacons turned out to be a disappointment, it would still be a fun day.

The lure of the warm spring day was attracting many park visitors who were anxious to get outdoors after a long winter season. There were now several more people exploring the fire tower than when they first passed it. Most of the people were at the tower or the overlook, taking in the views or exploring the stone wall. Adam preferred not to attract attention. He waited until they reached a point along the trail where no one was around, and then led them onto a deer path that headed in the right direction.

None of them were strangers to bushwhacking through the backcountry; even when geocaching they usually ended up trudging at least a few hundred yards through the brush to reach their destination. The foliage was sparse enough to make their way through, following the deer paths along mountaintop ridge when they could. There was a slight descent as they passed through the first valley, followed by a steeper climb as they crested the second ridge. They had only traveled about a third of a mile from the overlook, but making their way through the brush and climbing the last ridge was taxing enough to encourage a short stop to catch their breath.

Pausing at a tiny clearing, the group took seats on a large boulder. They were now at a higher elevation than they had been at the overlook. Through the trees to the northeast they had a view of Grassy Mountain and Beaver Mountain, and the newly tilled fields in the valley spreading between them. They could also see the ravine that held the location of the first beacon.

“The beacon is approximately 600 feet down there,” said Tom, pointing down into the ravine.

“It doesn’t look as if we will need climbing equipment,” said Alice, “but we’ll have to take it slowly. From here, it looks like there are a lot of loose rocks. It’s not too steep, and there is plenty of vegetation to hang onto.”

“You guys hang here for a few more minutes,” Sal said. “I’ll hike a little further down the ridge and check out a good place to make our way down.”

No one argued against taking in the view for a while longer, and the quick-gaited Sal could probably scamper along the ridge faster than any of them. While they waited, Tom stood on top of the boulder and surveyed the gulley. He noted that it was a typical runoff area; a tiny valley formed by years of erosion from snow melts. It was a closed valley, meaning that the bottom end of it was blocked by another mountain, forming an isolated fishbowl-like area. This was the sort of terrain that would normally form a small lake if there were a stream running into the valley, but Tom saw no stream and the valley floor appeared dry.

“Not much down there to observe except rocks and trees,” said Tom.

“Not even a shimmering portal to another dimension?” Alice asked with a chuckle.

“If there’s a portal down there, it’s disguised as a rhododendron,” he laughed.

“Are you sure?” asked Adam. “I think I can see one of those old British police boxes down there.”

“Riiight,” both Tom and Alice laughed.

“And which particular time lord is manning the TARDIS?” Alice asked.

“None other than the original Dr. Who, William Hartnell, of course,” Adam replied.

They were laughing and joking about other outrageous possibilities that could be causing the beacon when Sal returned. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve and plopped down on the boulder. “I’m glad you dudes can sit around yucking it up while I’m out busting my hump. I’ve got good news and okay news. The good news is that it doesn’t look too tough getting down into the gulley. The okay news is that it doesn’t much matter which way we go, so we might as well start down from right here.”

“Then you lead the way,” Adam said, handing the LANav to Sal, “and watch out for Daleks.”

“For what?” asked Sal.

“Never mind. Just go slow and carefully,” said Adam.

“I’m on it, dude. Just start whimpering if you can’t keep up,” replied Sal.

They picked their way slowly downward, feet sideways to keep from slipping on the moist ground, and using the trees to hang on to as they descended. With the decreasing sunlight in the recesses of the gulley, the stout oak and pine trees gave way to shade-loving varieties of willow, chestnuts, and gums. Other than the increasing claustrophobia as the sides of the gorge narrowed, blocking more and more of their view, there seemed to be nothing to indicate the area was different than any other part of the park.

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