Encounters in the Jemez, Page 4

  "C'mon, it's already past nine-thirty. We both overslept. Our shepherd friend is gone and so are all of his sheep. He obviously trusts us."

  "Well, he should. What does he have not to trust?" answered Kevin. And with that, Kevin stood up and walked outside the tent to some nearby bushes to relieve his overnight-full bladder.

  Returning to the tent, Kevin rolled up his sleeping bag, and asked, "What's the plan?"

  "Well, I hate to admit it but I have no idea where the cabin is, and this map is worthless at this point. How about we go back down to that meadow with the trout stream? There were a couple of spots that looked pretty good for a campsite. We can pitch our tent and just relax without getting' stressed out over some ole cabin that may or may not even be there — and that we can't find anyhow. What do you think?"

  "Sounds like a plan. Let's do it."

  However, before the young men exited the shepherd's tent, Kevin suggested they reward the shepherd for his hospitality. Although both realized that there was no place to spend money in the wilderness, nevertheless, Curt agreed, and they left five one dollar bills, tucking them under the base of the shepherd's kerosene lantern with just enough of the bills exposed to ensure they would be noticed by the shepherd.

  ~~~

  Avoiding the water-filled pits was much easier — and safer — in the bright sunshine of a glorious mountain morning. Last night's storm had cleansed the air, and the freshness of pine scent and the perfume of the flowering yarrows and daisies and a dozen other mountain flowers was a most agreeable blend of aromas.

  In less than an hour, the young men were welcomed back in the caldera meadow by a chattering Steller's jay.

  They soon found what they considered an ideal camping spot — twenty feet from the stream and next to a young orphaned ponderosa pine some thirty-five feet high that had somehow separated itself from its older relatives a hundred yards west on the steep slopes of what once was the rim of the caldera.

  The young men worked as a team to prepare the ground and put up the tent. Once the tent was up, Kevin began constructing a fire ring while Curt took the ax and went to gather kindling and, hopefully, a couple of decent sized logs for firewood.

  As Kevin was placing the last of the stones on the windward side of the fire ring, Curt returned to camp dragging a twelve-foot long, dead tree limb with an eight-inch diameter center limb and assorted diameter branches ideal for kindling.

  "Man, I'm hungry!" said Curt.

  "Yeah, it's almost time for lunch. Let's see what we can scrounge from the MREs," replied Kevin.

  "I got most of them in my backpack. Let me check," Curt said as he ducked into the tent to find his backpack. In the tent, Curt hollered, "Hey, both are chicken fajitas. That okay with you?"

  "Yeah! Love that stuff," Kevin hollered back.

  Fifteen minutes later, having used the MRE flameless heater packs to heat their MREs, the two young men were wolfing down the fajitas, Spanish rice, tortillas, and applesauce, their first food in almost twenty-four hours.

  Curt said, "I've been meaning to ask you about that… that shrine and little statue — you know, in the shepherd's tent. What's that all about?"

  "Well, I'd guess our sheepherder friend uses the shrine as a kind of mini-church to practice his religion," replied Kevin.

  "But, what about that little statue he had. What was that?"

  "Don't know how that figures into his religious beliefs. All I know is that the Bible says there is only one person between a believer and God and that's God's Son, Jesus Christ.

  "So, praying to statues — and I don't know if the shepherd does that or not — or praying to whatever or whomever other than Jesus seems to me to be contrary to what I know my dad preaches and what I believe."

  "Hmmm. Interesting," replied Curt.

  ~~~

  For there is one God and one Mediator between God and men, the Man Christ Jesus, 1 Timothy 2:5 NKJV

  ~~~

  With his last spoonful of applesauce, Kevin said, "Why don't we finish up the campsite? I'll dig a garbage pit for our trash and also dig a latrine, and you can chop that tree limb into manageable pieces. Deal?"

  "Deal."

  Kevin, carrying the Army surplus trenching tool and the remnants of their lunch, walked downstream one hundred and fifty paces and then turned ninety degrees away from the stream and paced off an additional one hundred steps. This brought him to a stand of young ponderosa pine trees that would eventually become giants but not for another fifty years.

  Kevin surveyed the area and decided it would do. He dropped the MRE trash on the ground so he could begin digging.

  First, he untightened the screw ring holding the blade on the trenching tool — the collapsible shovel. He then lowered the blade to the digging position and tightened the screw ring to hold the blade in place. Next, using the shovel, he scraped away a thick layer of brown pine needles and began digging a latrine about three feet long and a foot deep. A couple of yards away from the latrine, he dug a garbage pit a couple of feet deep and about three feet in diameter.

  The digging was easy in the meadow's organically rich, black soil with the deeper garbage pit especially organic with a dozen or more fat earthworms with every shovelful.

  While digging, Kevin could distinctly hear Curt upstream chopping wood at the campsite.

  As Kevin finished digging, he caught a whiff of smoke. He turned and glanced in the direction of camp and could see grey smoke lazily rising and, being caught by a slight breeze, drifting through the nearby towering pines. Ah, good! Curt's got the campfire going. Now we're really camping, he grinned to himself.

  Kevin picked up the MRE trash and tossed it into the garbage pit. He covered the trash with a mound of dirt. Finished, he turned to the latrine and stuck the shovel into the pile of latrine dirt with a thrust from the sole of his work boot. The shovel would remain at the site so that he and Curt could shovel dirt back into the pits as necessary.

  Kevin walked back to their campsite. He found Curt seated on his haunches idly poking at the campfire with a stick.

  Kevin said, "Hey, you know what, why don't we do a bit of exploring this afternoon?"

  "For what?"

  "I don't know. For something to do. I saw what looked like a game trail on the other side of the creek opposite where I dug the pits. Maybe we can check that out. What do you think?"

  "Why not? Sounds like fun."

  "I think so. That's why we're up here, isn't it? First, we're going to have to let the fire die down though. I think I'll take a quick nap. It's early. Only about noon. You okay with that?"

  "Yeah. No problem. I'm not sleepy. I think I'll see if I can catch a fish or two."

  ~~~

  Kevin awakened from a short nap, checked his wristwatch and saw it was twenty minutes past one o'clock. He stuck his head out the tent flap just as Curt was entering camp. "Any luck?" asked Kevin.

  "Nope. Saw a nice, plump rainbow trout, maybe fourteen, fifteen inches, almost motionless in a deep pool a bit downstream where the water's undercut the bank. He's a wary cuss though, but I'll bet I can catch him."

  "Ha! That'll be the day," Kevin jokingly replied.

  "Yeah. Well you'll think so when you see me grilling him over hot coals one of these evenings," grinned Curt as he leaned his compact mini-fishing rod and reel against the tree. "You ready to explore?"

  "Sure am. Think it'll rain?" Kevin asked as he exited the tent and began putting on and lacing his boots.

  "Nah. Not for a couple of hours anyhow. An hour out and an hour back to camp and we should be fine. But let's pack our raincoats in our mini-backpacks, and maybe toss in some jerky or hard candies. You gonna take your rifle?"

  "Yeah. I thought I would."

  "Whatever. I think I'll wear my windbreaker — it's a bit cool in the shade."

  A few minutes later, campsite secured, fire dampened, and ready to explore, the two walked downstream a hun
dred paces or so until they found a place where they could cross the stream with minimum wetting of their footwear thanks to a half dozen convenient, nature-positioned stepping-stones that allowed the two to hopscotch across a narrow part of the stream.

  Twenty yards farther downstream, now on the opposite bank, Kevin pointed and said, "There. See that path?"

  "Looks more like a game trail," replied Curt.

  "Yeah, that's what I thought, but I think it's wider than that. Let's go check it out, anyhow."

  "Go for it," replied Curt, and Kevin led the way.

  ~~~

  A half-hour into the hike, the trail split with one barely perceptible path through an overgrowth of stunted piney bushes, and the other, obviously the main trail, heading upslope, disappearing into a distant stand of blue spruce trees.

  They had paused to consider which trail to take when Curt said, "Let's see where this one takes us," as he squeezed between the heavy brush to follow the lesser of the two trails.

  "You are adventuresome," said Kevin as he followed.

  The trail meandered down into a small box canyon maybe seventy-five feet deep and rimmed on three sides at the top by mature blue spruce trees.

  Curt, paused. Looking around, he said, "This is a cool little canyon. Look up there. Those trees along the rim, they're blue spruce, and they're so evenly spaced you'd think someone planted them."

  "Blue spruce, eh? Your forestry studies are really paying off, bro. But you're right, they look too uniform and the gaps between them are too perfect. And, man, they are tall, too! A hundred feet at least. They're kind of like silent guardians over this canyon," said Kevin, a faint warning creeping into the back recesses of his mind that his subconscious chose to ignore.

  Curt continued walking down the path to the canyon floor while Kevin stood motionless on the path mesmerized by the trees and a feeling of unease that he could not explain.

  Curt broke the spell Kevin was under when he hollered up to Kevin, his voice echoing against the canyon walls, "You know, this is kind of strange. This canyon floor is what? Maybe half the size of a football field? But it's as smooth as a city park. I mean, come down here and look. There's no rocks, bushes, or little trees, just a smooth field — like I said, like a park. C'mon down and check this out."

  "Wait up. I'll join you."

  Moments later, catching up to Curt and viewing the canyon floor, Kevin said, "You're right. It does look like a park. Like it's groomed. What do think?" Kevin asked tentatively, the suppressed warning in the back of his mind struggling for attention.

  Ever-adventuresome Curt replied, "Well, let's go for a stroll in the park. Why not?" And he began walking down the middle of the groomed area.

  Kevin, after a moment of hesitation, quickly caught up to Curt, and, side-by-side, they walked down the brown pine-needle carpet as wide as three city residential streets.

  The only sound was the soft crunch of pine needles with each footstep — no bird sounds, no squirrel chatter — only the lonely moaning of the wind high in the tree tops on the rim.

  Some fifty feet into the park-like canyon floor both simultaneously came to an abrupt halt.

  Kevin spoke first in a half-whisper, "Oh-oh. Look ahead. See how the ground kind of undulates — there's like a whole series of low mounds, each about six feet long. Look how the mounds are parallel, side-by-side, and, oh, boy, they stretch clear across the canyon floor!"

  "I… think… we… have… encountered… something the map warned us about! This is no park! It's an Indian burial ground!" and with those whispered, halting words, Curt was already backing out of the forest with a stunned look on his face.

  Kevin turned to face Curt as he backed away and said, "I think you're right. Let's go!"

  Kevin walked quickly past Curt as Curt turned to follow. They hurried up the canyon path and back through the piney bushes. Once on the main trail, Curt took the lead and broke into a jog as they followed the trail down to the stream they had crossed earlier.

  In a matter of minutes, they were crossing the stream, using the same stepping-stones as before, this time to the opposite side where they headed upstream to their campsite.

  As they walked and tried to catch their breath from the jog and mountain altitude, Kevin remarked that he once heard from a missionary friend of the family that although each pueblo in New Mexico contained a Roman Catholic church and although it was common for deceased members of the tribe to be buried in the church's graveyard, many of the old-timers and traditionalists were often buried elsewhere and in secret — no outsiders allowed.

  "I think we found one of those secret locations today," Kevin concluded.

  "Man, I hope we didn't disturb any spirits and have them come after us," groaned the still shaken Curt. "I just hope I can sleep tonight."

  "Don't think you have to worry about any spirits. Once you're dead, your spirit leaves the body and ends up in either heaven or hell, depending on whether you are saved or not — same with Indians," replied Kevin.

  "Well, yeah, whatever. I'm glad you're so cool and calm, because I'm not."

  "I can tell you're not. But I am because I am confident, and have, I guess you'd call it, a peace about death because of my faith," replied Kevin.

  "You mean all them Indians buried in those mounds are in hell?" asked Curt.

  "I really don't know. Only God knows. What I do know is those who have had an opportunity for salvation as shown in — well, take the gospel of John, for example — as shown in chapter three of John where Jesus said, 'You must be born-again' in order to enter into heaven — well, I believe those who know that being born-again, not physically, of course, but being reborn spiritually — you know, being 'saved' — and who have heard of God's love and the sacrifice that His son Jesus made for all — maybe heard it through the testimony of a friend or relative or listening to a good preacher give what's called the plan of salvation — and who respond to that plan by inviting Jesus into their lives as Lord and Savior — well, those are the people that are saved and who will go to heaven when they die."

  ~~~

  Jesus answered and said to him, “Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.” John 3:3 NKJV

  ~~~

  "Yeah. But what about Indians?"

  "Well, like I said, only God knows. Personally, I think everyone will be held accountable to the degree he or she has knowledge of God and to the degree they let God into what my dad calls the 'God vacuum.' Dad says everyone has a God vacuum and that each person at some point life can sense their need for God to fill that vacuum. A lot of people ignore their God vacuum, suppress it, and eventually don't feel it anymore. But a lot of people seek to fill their God vacuum, some successfully and some not successfully.

  "I believe the only successful way to fill the God vacuum is with what the Bible says — with Jesus Christ and accepting his gift of salvation — having the born-again experience."

  As they stepped into camp, Curt replied, "Hmm. 'God vacuum,' is it?" After pondering the concept for a long moment, he added thoughtfully, "That's interesting."

  "Let me know when you're ready and we can talk some more about it. Like I said, the God vacuum is filled by the born again experience. I have no doubt that God loves you and has a plan for your life. Maybe in some way that's what our camping trip is all about. Maybe it's about a God encounter."

  Curt didn't quite know how to respond to Kevin's offer, nor to his last comment about a "God encounter." Instead, Curt said nothing in reply and busied himself rekindling the campfire, but the concept of a God vacuum troubled something deep inside him.

  ~~~

  Once Curt got a decent fire going, he told Kevin, who was sitting with his back against the trunk of their sheltering ponderosa pine reading the New Testament that his father had given him, "I'm going to see if I can catch that ole wily rainbow. Maybe we can have trout for early supper."

  Kevin looked
up, smiled, and said, "That sounds great! Good luck!"

  ~~~

  A half-hour later, Curt returned to camp with a big grin on his face. On the stringer he carried was a very plump, fourteen-inch rainbow trout.

  "Ho-ho-ho! Look what I got!" he gloated.

  In a matter of minutes, Curt had the trout gutted, cleaned, and filleted, and with the help of aluminum foil and hot coals, the two managed a decent early evening meal of succulent trout, being careful of the remaining pin bones common to trout.

  Although a thundershower was not unexpected because Kevin and Curt had heard distant thunder drawing ever closer for a good half-hour as they ate, they had no sooner finished the trout than the breeze freshened with the scent of rain and wet pine. Within a minute, scattered, giant, icy raindrops began to splash smack-smack-smack on the ground and on their tent, sizzling as they struck the red coals of the campfire, raising puffs of white ash.

  Kevin and Curt moved quickly to their tent and secured the entrance just as the scattered raindrops turned into a deluge accompanied by spurts of marble-sized hail.

  Kevin and Curt sat with their backs to each other, each looking out one of the mesh covered window vents that were on opposite sides of the tent.

  The drumming of the rain on the tent and the sound of thousands of raindrops on the surrounding area was so loud that it made conversation difficult even sitting back-to-back to each other; however, an occasional too near crack and flash of lightning and the immediate shattering boom that reverberated throughout the surrounding mountain valleys and peaks did elicit expressions of awe at the power of nature.

  Curt yelled excitedly, "This is awesome!"

  Kevin echoed, "You got that right! Awesome!"

  Chapter Five

  Day Three: The Two Decisions

  On Day Three in the wilderness, Curt awoke to the cooing of a nearby pair of mourning doves.

  He extricated himself from his sleeping bag, grabbed his boots, and eased himself quietly out of the tent, careful not to awaken still sleeping Kevin.

  Outside the tent, he pulled on his boots, stood up, stretched with arms spread wide, and took a deep breath of crisp mountain air.

  He grinned, savoring the beautiful morning and the smells and sounds of nature. Life is good!

  He walked the twenty feet to the stream, bent down, and splashed handfuls of icy water on his face. Whoa! That's cold! He felt the stubble of a beard on his chin and the thought ran through his mind, I might end up with a decent start on a beard before this is over.