Spindle Quest: Chasing Lost Creek Gold. - Slumach

eached the part where it was like walking through a miniature
forest. The branches ripped our skin and got stuck in
the backpack. I watched Shawn as he almost toppled over a
couple of times in front me.
“It’s thick in here this time,” he yelled.
I never said anything. I was so out of breath that talking
was an effort.
“You okay, Friesen?” he yelled over the trees when I
didn’t get an answer.
“I’m fine.”
My foot caught the back
of one of the trees and I fell
over, landing on my side with
a thud. The weight of my
backpack made it difficult to
stand up, but I managed to
get back on my feet quickly.
“Friesen,” Shawn called
from up ahead one more
time.
“I’m coming man!” I yelled
as I broke through the forest
of little trees.
“What happened?” he
asked, out of breath himself.
“I fell, but don’t worry about
it. Let’s keep moving.”
We kept going along the
trail that relentlessly climbed
upward. I paid no attention
to the progress Shawn was
making, but I could hear him
whistling in the distance.
All I could think of was how
good I would feel when I
reached the top. My ears
finally caught the sounds of
running water in the distance
and I knew it was Spindle
Creek where we would make
camp for the night. When I saw the old sign that marked
the location of some unknown prospector’s camp, I tossed
my pack on the ground. I broke through the trees, fell to
my knees and put my face into the creek. I can’t remember
when cold water ever tasted better.
“We did it, Friesen! It’s good to see you didn’t break this
time.”
“Thanks man, you don’t know how hard that was. I
thought I was going to lose it in those trees.”
“I almost lost it there too, but it doesn’t mean anything
now we’re here.” Shawn said standing on the rocks next to
the river.
“We should make camp, I’m starving.” Shawn said walking
back into the forest to where our packs were.
48
Once camp was set up and dinner was made, we started
a fire and then went back to the river’s edge once again to
watch the sun dip behind the mountains. As it did I took
out some cigarettes I had brought for the trip and lit one
up.
“Can I bum a fag?” Shawn asked.
“Sure,” I said handing him one, “you know you are going
to get addicted.”
“Not a chance.”
“That’s what I thought.“
“Friesen, you get addicted to
everything.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know.
“Is it ever good not to have
Eric on this trip. Why did you
listen to him last time about
taking our packs into the
canyon?”
“Friesen, man, if you had
a choice and we’re in the
mountains who would you
listen to: Mr. Army, who is a
prick but has it all together,
or Mr. unfit? Who would you
follow?”
“Good point, I was a little
unprepared last time. But we
made it this time and it still
feels kind of strange that I am
here with you of all people
remembering what happened
back in high school. I wanted
to kill you back in grade nine,
both you and Causley. I never
would have dreamed you
would be up here looking for
this crazy lost mine with me.
You used to rag on me about
lost treasure all the time. I
can remember when you and
Causley called me up in the middle of the night whistling
the Indiana Jones theme into the phone.
“Hey it was Rob Causley’s idea, not mine,” Shawn explained
with a grin on his face as wide as the Grand
Canyon.
“When you sung the Indiana Jones theme at school when
we were all sitting in the back of the school eating our
lunches that day, man I lost it,” I said.
“You know what’s good about you, Friesen?” Shawn said,
trying not to laugh remembering the incidence. “No matter
how hard you fall you always get right back up man.”
The stars are magical in the mountains with no city lights
blocking them. We spent a couple more hours talking
before going to sleep to get a good night’s sleep for the
© Daryl Friesen 2009