Delivered By The Sea..

[ElSuperGecko]

They wanted to judge me.  And for what?  Cutting down one tree, a single tree, when an ecological and environmental holocaust was being committed every single day, all the way along the Pacific North West from Oregon to Anchorage.  They wanted to lynch me, but I had my own judgement and they'd hear it before I was through.

I wrote and sent my letters, and I timed my departure.  Map, compass and kayak.  The locals thought I was out of my mind, but I knew the only thing I could rely on was myself.  I wasn't about to put myself in their hands.  I set off along the coast, with the plan to cross the Hecate Strait and meet my accusers face to face.  But they named the Strait after a witch for a reason.

The wind howled and the waves rose.  I was swept out to sea - soon BC was fading from view, and the daylight was fading as well.  I wasn't a stranger to the cold, but the water was beyond freezing and I had to fight with every ounce of my will just to keep myself upright, to stay afloat.

I don't know how long I battled.  I don't remember how many times I thought I was done.  Muscle memory kept me paddling, but my mind was straining and I could no longer trust my senses.  Despite the relentless gale, the sky was clear, full of stars and strange, racing colours.  The waves refracted them like a prism.

I awoke face down on sand and rocks, frozen almost to the bone.  The wind had died somewhere in the night, and now all was still.  I could hear crows circling above me, anticipating their next meal.  And where there's crows, there's land.

Slowly, I pushed myself onto my elbows and looked around.  The remains of my kayak bobbed gently against some rocks at the edge of the ice, some thirty yards away.  My pack - ruined - and my hatchet were lying next to me, and my canteen was still around my neck.  I couldn't have washed up this high above the waterline, could I?  My tools certainly couldn't.  Did I drag myself out of the water?  Did I crawl here?  Some base instinct, to survive?  I couldn't remember anything, just those damn lights.  A hallucination, brought on by exhaustion.

The canteen still had a few drops of water left.  I drained it, then fumbled inside my frozen coat.  My judgement, in it's waterproof plastic sleeve, was still just about intact.  I stuffed it into the remains of my pack, then pushed it away.  Meaningless now.  I needed a fire.  Somewhere to shelter.  More water.

My hand closed around the handle of my hatchet.  First things first.