Story-A-Day #53: Quicker By Ski

QUICKER BY SKI

He smoothed a few more lines of wax along the length of the slender skis and leaned them against the back of his car. It was a beautiful day, cool but sunny, and the air was awash in crystalline twinkles of snow and ice. He gazed out over the field, watching the dancing light of the diamond-like snow that sparkled and winked in the waning hours of daylight.

He inhaled deeply, crinkling his nostrils as the cool air burned a path down his throat. He was quivering with the anticipation of the unknown.

He reached into the backseat and pulled out his ski poles, leaning them against the car next to the skis. He then went through the two bags that were neatly arranged in one were his more immediate supplies: rations, matches, some dry kindling, a flashlight, a collapsible shovel, and so forth. In the other was a lightweight mylar tent and heavy duty sleeping bag. He double checked both bags to be sure and took one last look at his map before folding it up and zipping it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

It was time. He was running a little later than he had hoped, but he figured he still had a couple hours of daylight left before he would have to stop and set up camp. He had planned to snowshoe in at first, but the skis would take at least a day or two off his trip.

He waded through the snow to the fence and stepped over it and into the field. He took a moment to secure the skis to his feet, then set off across the glittery expanse of snow. He could see an opening in the trees ahead and angled towards it. There was a path there, buried under the snow, and he intended to follow it as far as the river, which he would then follow to the north.

It should take him about three days total. He would be able to reach his destination, secure the proof that he needed, and make it back to his car by sometime earl on Friday. He had been monitoring the weather network diligently and the forecast was clear until Sunday, but he didn’t want any unexpected surprises.

His skis glided smoothly across the fresh blanket of powdery snow and he entered the trees within moments. The path, much to his relief, was easy to distinguish as it cut through the maples and pines.

The plane was out there somewhere and he had a pretty solid idea of where. When the winter had first arrived, he originally planned to wait until the spring to resume his search. He had already invested too much effort though and he was too close. As it turned out, this was actually perfect. It was definitely quicker by ski so he could be in and out in less time.

By the end of the week, the mystery would be solved, and he would be a hero.