The boys had finished cleaning up after supper by the time Karen got home last night and figured it would be prudent to make themselves scarce by reading in their rooms for the rest of the night to allow things to cool down. This morning started out much more pleasantly with the boys salivating to the aroma of bacon in the air and the promise of lots of French toast. They heard the truck door slam and in ducked Uncle Jeff through the kitchen door.
“Good morning, men,” Uncle Jeff smiled at the boys seated at the table while removing his jacket.
“Good morning, Sis,” Uncle Jeff went over and kissed Karen on the cheek she offered.
“You’re early,” Karen said as she put the pan on the stove and lit the burner.
“Ah, only a few minutes,” Jeff replied, “I brought some real maple syrup for the French toast.”
“Oh, yeah!” Ricky loved the good stuff.
“How ‘bout you, Lex? This is one of the few good things to come from the east,” Uncle Jeff declared holding up the large glass liter sized bottle of No. 1 grade maple syrup.
“Yeah, I’ll have a little on the side, maybe,” Lex danced around any confrontation.
“Lex, likes to spread butter mixed with sugar and ground cinnamon on his French toast,” his mom helped him out.
“I will have some on the side though, to dip my toast in,” Lex included, forever the people pleaser.
“Excellent!” boomed Uncle Jeff, still navigating his way through the new family dynamics. “Man, how come your French toast smells so much better than mine?” Jeff declared, remembering that it smelled the way her mother used to make it but cautiously avoiding any touchy subjects by not saying it out loud.
“A pinch or two of nutmeg in the batter, Big Guy,” Karen said as she put the bacon in middle of the table for them to nibble on.
“Ah, nutmeg in the batter,” Jeff smiled as he repeated the secret ingredient knowing that things were all right if she was calling him Big Guy.
“So where are you guys off to today,” inquired Karen as she removed the stack of French toast that had been kept warm in the oven and placed it on the table for everyone to help themselves.
“I have some seismic stations to inspect down in the hot springs,” Uncle Jeff said as he stabbed a triple stack and removed it from the platter.
“Good,” Karen declared as she sat at the table, “then you might as well tell them all about Bigfoot since that is where most of the sightings have been reported over the years.” Jeff looked surprised that Karen would bring the matter up but she figured she might as well acknowledge the elephant in the room and get it over with.
“Really? There are Bigfoot this close to where we live? Do you think we will see one?” Lex was excited at the prospect of this adventure.
“Well first off, there are many names for the Old One’s. Bigfoot, wild man, hairy man, even clam eater, every tribe and sometimes even different villages within a tribe, had their own name for the Old One’s. These days most people refer to them as Sasquatch, which is the white’s version of the Salish people’s word for ‘wild man’. And no, we won’t see one unless they want you to see them, they are too smart and too fast.”
“Why do you keep calling them the Old One’s?” Ricky asked.
“Because your uncle believes in these fairy tale legends and has searched for the Sasquatch his whole life,” Karen sneered.
“Yes, I respect some of the old ways and legends and believe they have a lot to teach us,” confessed Uncle Jeff. “They may not all be true but the elders have something to say on the matter.”
“And what is that old wise one?” Karen had nothing but contempt for superstition and put the legends of the Sasquatch in the same category as witches, vampires and werewolves.
“Well the same as the Christians had their story of the snake tempting the people with the fruit of knowledge, our people had the story of what many refer to simply as the Old One’s,” began Uncle Jeff. “Long ago we and the Old One’s were all one people but we came down out of the mountains and began using fire. With the knowledge of fire came the tools we made to hunt with like spears, canoes and fishing nets. Over time we separated ourselves from the land that gave us life and became two different peoples. We could no longer return to the land, we are no longer equipped to survive as the Old One’s live. So they shun us as those who turned their back on the land. Whenever they smell or see us in the bush they avoid us and will not mix with us.”
“What a bunch of xenophobic snobs,” Karen shook her head sarcastically, amused with her brother’s seriousness on the matter.
“Enough of the ghost stories, Jeffery,” Karen finished her coffee and got up to put her dishes by the sink. “I need you to help me keep an eye on these boys today until school starts on Monday. This one left his brother alone in the bush the other day because he was playing with a rifle he got from some kid named Tommy,” Karen explained as she patted Lex on the head. “Please explain to my sons that it is not only illegal to be playing with guns at their age but that real guns, unlike video games, really do hurt and make you bleed when you get shot.”
“Wow. Yeah, we’ll talk about that right now,” Uncle Jeff said in all seriousness.
“You boys clean up and I’ll bring home pizza tonight,” Karen tugged at her brother as she headed for the door. “Hey Jeff, have you got a minute?”
Outside as Karen loaded her stuff into the car, she asked, “Well, did you find any tracks?”
“Not a single one, but the bush is covered in spruce needles and tracks are hard to find anyway. It would be a good idea to be careful about wandering around outside at night anyway. You know how wild it is around here,” Jeff advised.
“Yeah OK, thanks. I gotta run. See ya later,” Karen wasn’t satisfied but she wasn’t one to dwell on things out of her control.
Jeff waved his sister off and stood there looking at a clump of finger length, reddish brown hair he had pulled from his jacket. Barely an hour ago he had found the hair snagged shoulder high on a hemlock sapling, just steps inside the bush next to his place.
“Hey, you guys really come on like gang busters. Your first week here and you have a run in with Bigfoot and Rambo on the same day,” Uncle Jeff said humorously as he came in and started to clear the breakfast dishes.
“Well, we just met this kid up the trail by the ridge who was firing target practice at a bunch of tin cans and he asked me if I would like a couple of turns,” Lex confided in Uncle Jeff.
“And your brother wasn’t included, I guess, huh?” Jeff noted.
“Well Tommy said he was too young to handle a rifle,” explained Lex.
“I’d say all of you guys are too young to be in the bush with a rifle alone without supervision,” opined Uncle Jeff. “I know things are a little different up here than it is in the city and most people here strongly encourage self sufficiency. But someone responsible needs to make a determination on whether a young person is both mentally mature and well trained in the use of a firearm before letting them loose with a weapon that can kill. You don’t just let anybody into the bush with a weapon like that or accidents will happen.”
“They don’t let us do anything like when you were kids, Uncle Jeff,” complained Lex.
“Yeah, they took Lex’s jack knife from him at Scouts,” chimed in Ricky.
“Yeah, my dad gave me this old jack knife with a real flimsy blade that he got from Scouts when he was a kid, with the Scouts emblem on it and everything. When one of the Scout leaders saw me with it he took it and made my dad come to the hall to get it back. Heck they used to hand them out to kids and now they confiscate them if they catch you with them,” Lex recounted the event with indignation.
“I agree with you about the knife, but that is different than what we are talking about regarding the rifle,” Uncle Jeff began to explain. “You guys should have your own knife at your age and if you want I will get you each a good Buck lock blade and teach you how to use and care for it.”
“Get out! Really?”
Lex knew he could handle the responsibility if given the chance.
“Me too?” Ricky didn’t expect to be trusted with a real knife of his own.
“Absolutely, you too!” Uncle Jeff promised. “We’ll make a deal with your mom. If we get you guys your own lock blades to keep and care for and you promise not to take them to school, then you guys also promise not to be in the bush alone firing rifles. Deal?”
“Deal!” it was unanimous.
Now all Jeff had to do was convince his sister. However, Karen did agree with his view about being a responsible individual within society. It really irked him to hear the lament of today’s leaders regarding the lack of responsibility in the people they never taught or allowed to be responsible as children. Treating everyone with the lowest denomination of trust is not warranted just because a few individuals had been irresponsible in the past. Jeff felt this conflicting message from authorities debased everyone.
It didn’t take long to clear up the breakfast mess and hop into the truck. The boys were excited to have even the slightest prospect of seeing one of the Old One’s. As the pickup made the stop at the end of the street, the sun hadn’t appeared over the mountains that shadowed their street behind them. Turning left to head south along Old Lakelse Lake Drive there was a warm honey colored glow pushing back the dark veil of night leaving a few remnants of frost on the truck’s windows.
“It’s only about 20 minutes or so to our first station check boys,” announced Uncle Jeff.
“I don’t understand why you have seismic sensors monitoring down here so far away from the lava fields,” Lex pondered aloud, riding shotgun.
“Do you remember those fault lines we talked about yesterday?” asked Uncle Jeff.
“Yeah, sure,” acknowledged Lex.
“Well, we pretty much live on top of one,” smiled Uncle Jeff casting Lex a sideways glance.
“No way!” Ricky bounced up from the back seat. “You mean we could have an eruption of lava here at anytime, just like up at the Tseax?”
“Not very likely, at least not in our time. Our life span is relatively short when we talk about geological time.”
“What is ‘relatively’? I don’t understand that,” Lex was thoroughly engaged in what Uncle Jeff had to say, just as Ricky seemed to be. Jeff couldn’t decide if he simply enjoyed teaching or just liked these kids.
“Let’s see,” Uncle Jeff had to ponder a moment before he could find a way to explain it, “the earth is estimated to be about 4.5 billion years old. That’s how many zeroes guys?”
Ricky looked to Lex. “Aw, I hate math, I always have to help Ricky with math,” whined Lex.
“You hate math?” Uncle Jeff laughed, “Or you just don’t know how to think because you aren’t willing to take the time to figure it out? I know you guys like the challenge of a game so you must like to figure things out. So how would you figure this out?”
The boys looked at one another and shrugged, not knowing where to begin.
“Well, how many zeroes in a billion?” asked Uncle Jeff.
Both of the boys drew a blank and shrugged again.
“How many zeroes in a million?
“Six!” volunteered Lex.
“Right,” said Uncle Jeff. “And a billion is a thousand million. So how many zeroes in a billion?”
“Ah, nine?” said Lex pensively after a substantial pause.
“Exactly, do you get that Ricky?” Uncle Jeff asked looking at him in the rear view mirror.
“Ahhh, no.” Ricky confessed.
“It’s all about the zeroes,” continued Uncle Jeff, “if we start with a base of one thousand. How many zeroes do we have?”
“Three,” replied Ricky.
“And Lex tells us that one million has six zeroes, which is three zeroes more than one thousand. So if we add three more zeroes to the six to get one billion, how many zeroes do we have?”
“Nine,” answered Ricky wondering where this was going.
“Right. So if the earth is 4.5 billion years old, you could restate that as 45 hundred million years. Get it?”
“Not really,” Ricky was lost and Lex looked lost as well.
“Well if you think about sliding that decimal place in 4.5 billion back three places, we are then talking in terms of what? Moving from nine zeroes to six zeroes gives us what? Billions, millions or thousands?”
“Millions,” volunteered Ricky.
“Right, so the earth is 4500 million years old and I am 45 years old. So ‘relative’ to me, the earth has been around 100 million years for every year I have lived,” Uncle Jeff had finally made his point.
“Geez and what were we talking about again?” Lex wisecracked as he stared out the window. He either lost the point of the whole exercise or didn’t find it all that instructive. Ricky’s grasp on the import of his explanation didn’t seem to overwhelm him either, as he sat back and took out his iPod.
“You asked what the term relative meant. So that means that relative to me, last year dinosaurs roamed the earth and the supercontinent of Pangaea was breaking up into the continents we know today,” Jeff suddenly knew how some comedians felt when they were losing the interest of their audience. “Wow, you guys are one tough crowd.”
“What?” asked Lex looking confused.
“I said, there’s Bigfoot!” muttered Uncle Jeff and watched Ricky bounce off the back seat to look out the front window.
“Where?”
“Ah, made you look,” laughed Uncle Jeff joined in by Lex.
“Jerk!” Ricky responded defiantly when he knew he was had.
Jeff decided that maybe he was no teacher but he sure liked these kids.
“So why do you think most of the Big..ah, Old One’s have been spotted around here, Uncle Jeff” Lex asked as they pulled up to the first seismic station.
“You boys go over and stick your hands in that creek and tell me what you find, while I run the maintenance routine on this seismic sensor,” Uncle Jeff said pulling his toolbox off the tailgate.
Less than ten minutes later Jeff was loading his tools back into the truck as the boys climbed back up from the stream. “Well, anything unique about that stream?”
“It sure is clean,” said Ricky, “I’ll bet I could drink that water without any filter or chlorine.”
“And as warm as bathwater,” Lex jumped in.
“That’s right, this creek and many others that feed the Lakelse Lake watershed come from springs and warm seeps along the fault lines higher up the side of the valley,” Uncle Jeff continued as he led the boys back down to the creek.
“Warm seeps?” questioned Ricky.
“Yeah, as rain and the snowpack melt and percolate down into the ground, the cold water runs down the fault lines to a depth where the pressure and radioactive decay creates great heat. The hot water comes rushing back up like steam in a kettle and you get water that can be as hot as 89 degrees Celsius in some springs. That is hot enough to scald you. But in most cases it causes warm seeps in springs and the bottom of the lake, which can be observed in the winter as the ice melts in some spots.”
“So you think the Old One’s come here for a bath?” Ricky figured this was a logical extrapolation from the preceding lesson.
“Well, maybe,” Uncle Jeff laughed as he walked along the bank of the sprawling creek as if looking for something. “But most likely the Old One’s are looking for fish because a lot of Coho salmon and steelhead spawn late into the fall in these streams. Many steelhead overwinter or live year round in the lake because it is so warm.”
“Ah, so the Old One’s are big time fish eaters,” concluded Lex.
“Absolutely, any animal that size would probably go out of their way to find a good source of protein considering the amount of calories it must need,” Uncle Jeff pondered as they were now a good distance from the road and well out of sight of any human traffic.
“What are you looking for?” asked Lex as they trudged through the gravel and roots of the stream
bank.
Uncle Jeff stopped for a moment and then approached a large Sitka spruce about twenty strides from the creek bank, “Remember that I told you one of the names our forefathers had for the Old One’s was clam eater?”
“Not really? I remember Bigfoot, Wild Man, Sasquatch. But not clam eater,” Lex replied honestly.
Uncle Jeff turned to them both and smiled, “I’m not surprised. Those names bring to mind so much more danger and mystery. What would you rather do, hunt a dragon or a lizard?”
“A dragon,” replied Lex without hesitation.
“Well, they would both be pretty cool, but if I had to choose. I would go with the dragon,” agreed Ricky.
“My point exactly, clam eater doesn’t evoke any fear or mystery, does it boys?” Uncle Jeff asked rhetorically as he turned and walked to the base of the spruce tree.
“Wow, that is one big tree!” exclaimed Ricky looking up at the tree as it disappeared out of sight into the dark canopy above.
“Yeah, who knows how old this tree is. One thing for sure is that its life is measured in the hundreds of years to get this size,” agreed Uncle Jeff. “But it holds an even bigger mystery for me.”
The boys looked at their uncle and waited. He seemed to be looking around for something again. “You guys have been so mesmerized by the size of this Sitka that you haven’t looked at the base of the tree,” he said as he walked over and grabbed a hefty branch about five feet long about the thickness of his arm off of the ground.
“Wow! Holy crap!” Lex and Ricky alternated expressions of amazement.
“Look at all those clam shells!” Ricky exclaimed as he reached down and grabbed a handful of what must have been many wheelbarrows of shells lying between the trunk roots of the enormous spruce tree.
“Where did they all come from?” asked Lex not believing how many there were.
“Well they come from that stream there, I imagine,” Uncle Jeff looked over his shoulder back to the creek. “They are what we today call freshwater mussels. I found this spot three years ago when we were installing that seismic sensor up off the road.”
“How did they get here?” asked Ricky.
“I have seen smaller piles of shells in other places but always closer to a stream. Biologists tell me they are muskrat middens,” explained Uncle Jeff as he leaned on his stick.
“You mean muskrats ate the mussels and piled all of those shells there,” Lex said incredulously.
“Well, that’s what bothers me,” confessed Uncle Jeff. “This one is different. I have never seen one quite like this. It’s too far from the creek to be muskrats. I don’t think they would bother bringing the mussels all this distance. Besides that stack would take many generations of muskrat to pile up and my father told me there wasn’t any muskrats native to this valley when he was a kid.”
“I have a hunch,” Uncle Jeff said as he started clearing a hole in the center of the midden with his stick. After many minutes of clearing the shells from the center of the midden, Uncle Jeff hit something that made a sound as though balls had just been struck on a pool table.
“Did you find something?” Ricky asked as both boys eagerly waited for Uncle Jeff to pull his arm back from the pile of shells.
“I would say so,” Uncle Jeff smiled at the boys as he held up two smooth pale green stones.