Yesterday Earl and his brother, Billy, took the boys to check out the logging on the back of our hill while I got some long-overdue paperwork done. I was on the phone when they came back and didn't quite understand the magnitude of them asking me if I'd seen Cliffy and Jackson. Then next thing I knew, they were telling me that Berry was downstairs with Harley and Oliver and they were heading out. I didn't entirely understand that they were going to look for the boys, who I vaguely understood were walking back--along the road from Berry's house, I thought--and should have been here by now. I called after them to ask where exactly they were going, but they didn't hear me. They had already started to worry and were on a mission.
About half an hour later, the phone rang and it was Billy on his cell phone, saying that he'd found the boys' tracks and that they had picked up the snowmobile trail. He was calling to them, with no answer, but he was chugging along and figured he'd catch up with them soon, though he was a little concerned about the impending darkness and his lack of a flashlight. He'd call again if he had more to report. Okay.
It seems that they had all gone to the top of the hill, Kibling Hill, the height of land in Strafford, and that Cliffy and Jackson wanted to walk back to the farm the front way while Earl, Billy and the little boys went back to the car and drove around. They were wearing snowpants, down jackets, wool hats and socks, and new ski mittens. It was twenty-three degrees and not windy. Earl said they could. They wondered who would get back first.
But the skid trails, cut after the ice storm of 1998 decimated the hillside (and our sugarbush), can be a little confusing. And they got a little to the right and when it seemed that they should be going downhill, they ended up dropping off the other side of the ridge, toward the Mannings and Sharon. They found an empty hunting camp (about a mile from the farm), but near it was a snowmobile trail sign with a arrow pointing toward Strafford. So they went along on the snowmobile trail and that's where Billy found their footprints.
I, meanwhile, was completely freaking out. I had a piece of mail that had-to, had-to go out that day, so I called Ben, our tenant, and then Billy to say that I would drop off a flashlight-laden Ben at the road end of the snowmobile trail, run down to the P.O., go back to the end of the trail, park the car there, and run up to join them. Five minutes behind Ben, I started out, frantic and worried. It was getting dark and starting to snow. About 1/4 mile from the road, I found Billy and Ben walking back. Earl had caught up with Billy and then followed little footprints that left the snowmobile trail when it got near the farm. If they weren't back at the house, we would fan out in a grid and head up toward the trail from the farm.
They were back at the house, having arrived a few minutes before Earl. Cliffy rushed into my arms and cried. Jackson was fine, completely nonchalant about the whole thing.
The story is still unfolding. Somewhere early on, Jackson had made a suggestion about which way to go, and when they realized they were lost, he cried and said it was all his fault. Cliffy didn't want him to feel bad, so he said it was both of their faults. Jackson had a hard time keeping up, but Cliffy wanted to keep them moving, so he would go a little ahead, then wait. They left the trail once, but it didn't feel right, then they looped back. They cried sometimes. They worried in their heads that they wouldn't ever see the rest of the family again, but they didn't say anything aloud because they didn't want to other one to feel bad. Jackson said he was the worst brother anyone could ever have, but Cliffy said he wasn't, referencing Harry Potter's brother, Dudley. Jackson thought about it and said he was the worst brother a real boy could ever have, which Cliffy assured him he wasn't. Cliffy told Jackson they would get home eventually.
Then Cliffy recognized a rock outcropping that he'd seen when he was hunting with Earl this fall. The snowmobile trail turned but Cliffy had his bearings and knew they should go straight. They saw a set of cross-country ski tracks (which were made by Ben's visiting brother-in-law a few days before) and followed them into the clear cut, where they saw a house with lights on. They weren't sure what house it was, but they knew that houses usually have driveways and driveways lead to roads, so they trucked on toward it. At first they thought it was a little house up close, but it was a bigger house far away. And then they came across the field and realized it was Ben's house, and that our house was even closer.
And then it was fun again. They walked across the field, trying not to break through the snow. They talked about how they would tell the story. Jackson was hungry. Cliffy wanted to warm up.
They thought we would all be home, worrying. Jackson thought we'd forgotten about them. When they walked in and heard Oliver and Harley watching cartoons, they thought maybe no one was so worried. Then Berry told them we all out looking for them, so they looked for cell phone numbers to call to say they were safe. Then Earl came in and Cliffy saw him and could finally let out all his scaredness and cried.
I got back with Billy and Ben a few minutes later and Cliffy ran into my arms. He told us a little about it, but then wanted to talk about something else; talking about it made them feel that scared way again.
We had breakfast supper (their favorite) with a quadruple recipe of pancakes, sausage, applesauce, and omelets and they ate and ate. Earl told how Billy had left him messages in the snow, with arrows and the time, so he knew not to follow their loop off the trail, and knew that Billy was on the path, too. He told how he had caught up with Billy and how they had reassured each other with recollections of their own boyhood adventures in the woods. Cliffy and Jackson listened, and they liked the messages in the snow, but they weren't, and aren't, ready to think of it as an adventure. It was still an ordeal.
They were happy to crawl into their soft beds and doze off to a special double chapter of Farmer Boy. Cliffy got up around three and couldn't get back to sleep. He'd had a bad dream that gave him the scared feeling again.
And now it's a new day of sunshiny new snow. Cliffy is feeling more relaxed and more bits of the story are coming out. Jackson doesn't want to talk about it. It's hard to know how this will play out in their years to come. I don't think they'll ever forget this, the first time they were scared and no one came when they yelled help, far from home. I hope that they can get over the scared part and look back on it the way it seems to me, that two really little kids persevered when things weren't looking good. They kept thinking, they stayed together, looked out for each other, and they got where they were going. It's a proven recipe for getting out of tight spots and though I hope they won't need to, they might need to employ it again when they're older.
About half an hour later, the phone rang and it was Billy on his cell phone, saying that he'd found the boys' tracks and that they had picked up the snowmobile trail. He was calling to them, with no answer, but he was chugging along and figured he'd catch up with them soon, though he was a little concerned about the impending darkness and his lack of a flashlight. He'd call again if he had more to report. Okay.
It seems that they had all gone to the top of the hill, Kibling Hill, the height of land in Strafford, and that Cliffy and Jackson wanted to walk back to the farm the front way while Earl, Billy and the little boys went back to the car and drove around. They were wearing snowpants, down jackets, wool hats and socks, and new ski mittens. It was twenty-three degrees and not windy. Earl said they could. They wondered who would get back first.
But the skid trails, cut after the ice storm of 1998 decimated the hillside (and our sugarbush), can be a little confusing. And they got a little to the right and when it seemed that they should be going downhill, they ended up dropping off the other side of the ridge, toward the Mannings and Sharon. They found an empty hunting camp (about a mile from the farm), but near it was a snowmobile trail sign with a arrow pointing toward Strafford. So they went along on the snowmobile trail and that's where Billy found their footprints.
I, meanwhile, was completely freaking out. I had a piece of mail that had-to, had-to go out that day, so I called Ben, our tenant, and then Billy to say that I would drop off a flashlight-laden Ben at the road end of the snowmobile trail, run down to the P.O., go back to the end of the trail, park the car there, and run up to join them. Five minutes behind Ben, I started out, frantic and worried. It was getting dark and starting to snow. About 1/4 mile from the road, I found Billy and Ben walking back. Earl had caught up with Billy and then followed little footprints that left the snowmobile trail when it got near the farm. If they weren't back at the house, we would fan out in a grid and head up toward the trail from the farm.
They were back at the house, having arrived a few minutes before Earl. Cliffy rushed into my arms and cried. Jackson was fine, completely nonchalant about the whole thing.
The story is still unfolding. Somewhere early on, Jackson had made a suggestion about which way to go, and when they realized they were lost, he cried and said it was all his fault. Cliffy didn't want him to feel bad, so he said it was both of their faults. Jackson had a hard time keeping up, but Cliffy wanted to keep them moving, so he would go a little ahead, then wait. They left the trail once, but it didn't feel right, then they looped back. They cried sometimes. They worried in their heads that they wouldn't ever see the rest of the family again, but they didn't say anything aloud because they didn't want to other one to feel bad. Jackson said he was the worst brother anyone could ever have, but Cliffy said he wasn't, referencing Harry Potter's brother, Dudley. Jackson thought about it and said he was the worst brother a real boy could ever have, which Cliffy assured him he wasn't. Cliffy told Jackson they would get home eventually.
Then Cliffy recognized a rock outcropping that he'd seen when he was hunting with Earl this fall. The snowmobile trail turned but Cliffy had his bearings and knew they should go straight. They saw a set of cross-country ski tracks (which were made by Ben's visiting brother-in-law a few days before) and followed them into the clear cut, where they saw a house with lights on. They weren't sure what house it was, but they knew that houses usually have driveways and driveways lead to roads, so they trucked on toward it. At first they thought it was a little house up close, but it was a bigger house far away. And then they came across the field and realized it was Ben's house, and that our house was even closer.
And then it was fun again. They walked across the field, trying not to break through the snow. They talked about how they would tell the story. Jackson was hungry. Cliffy wanted to warm up.
They thought we would all be home, worrying. Jackson thought we'd forgotten about them. When they walked in and heard Oliver and Harley watching cartoons, they thought maybe no one was so worried. Then Berry told them we all out looking for them, so they looked for cell phone numbers to call to say they were safe. Then Earl came in and Cliffy saw him and could finally let out all his scaredness and cried.
I got back with Billy and Ben a few minutes later and Cliffy ran into my arms. He told us a little about it, but then wanted to talk about something else; talking about it made them feel that scared way again.
We had breakfast supper (their favorite) with a quadruple recipe of pancakes, sausage, applesauce, and omelets and they ate and ate. Earl told how Billy had left him messages in the snow, with arrows and the time, so he knew not to follow their loop off the trail, and knew that Billy was on the path, too. He told how he had caught up with Billy and how they had reassured each other with recollections of their own boyhood adventures in the woods. Cliffy and Jackson listened, and they liked the messages in the snow, but they weren't, and aren't, ready to think of it as an adventure. It was still an ordeal.
They were happy to crawl into their soft beds and doze off to a special double chapter of Farmer Boy. Cliffy got up around three and couldn't get back to sleep. He'd had a bad dream that gave him the scared feeling again.
And now it's a new day of sunshiny new snow. Cliffy is feeling more relaxed and more bits of the story are coming out. Jackson doesn't want to talk about it. It's hard to know how this will play out in their years to come. I don't think they'll ever forget this, the first time they were scared and no one came when they yelled help, far from home. I hope that they can get over the scared part and look back on it the way it seems to me, that two really little kids persevered when things weren't looking good. They kept thinking, they stayed together, looked out for each other, and they got where they were going. It's a proven recipe for getting out of tight spots and though I hope they won't need to, they might need to employ it again when they're older.
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