23 July 20XX+1
My Dear Lucilius:
I know, I know – Three days must seem like an eternity after daily updates. This was due to the simple fact that the days were largely spent walking.
After our meeting with Epicurus and Themista and our evening return to Cato’s, we had a last meal with him, Cato The Younger, and his men. It was a pleasant enough evening, with the weather cooling nicely (as it will do here from time to time). Other than the comradeship and the suggestion to Cato The Elder that likely Crossroads had some things worth picking through, the biggest development would be a regular check-in time with the Garnet Valley – and, it sounded like, with Epicurus and Themista.
After they left, the Colonel laid out his thoughts for our trip home: we could make it three days if we went from here to Crossroads, from Crossroads to Little City, and from Little City to Birch. He said “could”; everyone turned to look at me.
I gave the Colonel a raised eyebrow. 17 mile days, he responded. I nodded back; 17 miles on an overall level track was possible.
The next morning, early, we set out.
The trek back was essentially like the trek out in format: Someone, usually The Colonel or The Leftenent on point, Ox or Young Xerxes in the rear, and myself chugging along with whomever was not leading or following. The weather held for us overall, although we experienced at least two of the sort of short showers which can happen here from time to time. For one we found cover at Crossroads. For the other we just marched through.
Conversation during the day was at a minimum; everyone else’s mind seemed set on returning back to familiar territory as quickly as possible while mine was simply focused on making it through the day. The packs had lightened up a bit ominously as we started to eat out the food that we had brought with us.
The trip through Little City on the third day was quiet as it had always been; I am not sure if it that we never come here during normal hours or the fact that the people were just becoming more and more cliquish. Passing by, we headed up over the hills to Kentucky City – the most difficult part of the walk as it was only uphill for 3 hours or more. I was chuffing by the time I reached the top – but it was all downhill from there (literally, in this case).
At Kentucky City, The Colonel left us – things to do and set up, he alluded, giving each of us another hug as he sent us on our way. He would talk to us again soon, he assured us. And so it was we made the slow afternoon walk back to Birch with The Leftenent and Ox making sure we returned home.
Both Statiera and Pompeia Paulina were ecstatic when they sighted us from the road. By then it was hinting at darkness; The Leftenenant and Ox were starting to turn back but Statiera would not hear of it. With that she shuttled both them and her husband back to their home.
My wife, bless her, could see that I was just about spent – 17 miles a day is a lot for anyone, let alone someone of my age and the last two months. She carefully narrowed her questions to a very vague sort of update and filled in the conversation with the doings in Birch, which mostly sounded like continuing to work on preparing for Winter.
I suspect the grilling will come tomorrow.
During one of our evening stops, The Colonel asked me how I felt about everything. Mostly a failure, I confessed. He pressed into the question a bit and my response was that in terms of a pure mission objective, we had failed. There was wheat, but we could not really get at it.
His face became a little annoyed as he corrected me. “Couldn’t get at it” was not really the outcome; we had never been told that. We would have to share it if we could get there, but that was not the same as there not being wheat there at all. Besides, he pointed out, we made contact with not one but two groups, groups that could be allies and contacts in the years ahead. Surely that was not wasted effort? And further, he said, you added to your annals. Who else was doing that?
I hemmed and hawed as I am want to do when I am caught as a victim of my own sort of advice. Perhaps, I conceded, the outcome was as good as could be expected.
Conceded, he responded with a smirk. Without your suggestion, none of this would have likely happened. You might have a little more confidence in your ideas – and after all, he pointed out, unlike many I was at least willing to prove theory myself.
I am not sure how I feel about being recognized as a potential resource – but Pompeia Paulina, when I told her, merely laughed at me with a twinkle in her eye.
There is no rest, Luculius, for the wicked.
Your Obedient Servant, Seneca
After reading this post one can see why horses and mules became so important. Can also see why solar powered generators/inverters might loom bigger. Hope Seneca can rest those aching feet TB.
ReplyDeleteNylon12, so this is one place where I have a little bit of actual knowledge in that I can visualize what 17 miles or so would look like over this kind of terrain. It is exhausting, but doable. The worst part would have been that last push over over the pass - but literally, it really is all downhill from there. And to a point that Michael has made before, there is plenty of water along the way.
DeleteI should think in such a situation things like solar powered anything becomes critical, as well as understanding and foreknowledge that not everything will be able to be powered. Questions like "what is critical to survival and how to we power that" will become important. Honestly, now that we are in an apartment in an area with known Winter interruptions, I am asking myself the same question about battery banks.
As a gentleman farmer (one that has a regular job and a farming hobby) I see SUCCESS. Potential allies, and Wheat Seeds.
ReplyDeleteWould have been a sweeter trip if exploring abandoned gardens or even ASKING folks about potatoes and such for seed stock had happened.
Seed corn something important, thus the bad idea of eating it.
Seneca seems to measure success or failure as all or nothing, something which I can identify with (arguably the real Seneca had some of this as well from his writings). Sometimes it takes someone else to see the bigger picture.
DeleteAnd although they did not stop specifically for gardens, they now have a far flung contact with people that have studied agriculture for a living and (from what was described) are actively gardening on their own. There may be something to that in the future.
Usually, my grilling starts the moment my head hits the pillow, thus waking up my tired brain. It usually means for a long sleepless stretch before I can get everything quieted down again.
ReplyDeleteEd, same here. I am presuming that Pompeia Paulian intuits that over 50 miles a day for a man not quite in the prime of life anymore leaves for scattered thoughts at best.
DeleteYou have some younger women left at home and at end of growing season after the corn and wheat is being harvested the younger one can be 'gleaning' the fields. I seem to remember this from my bible lesson in school and very long time ago.
ReplyDeleteAnon, the possibility of how to handle the upcoming potential of a harvest is an interesting one. Potentially there is a lot of wheat there to be had, even among multiple parties. But it is something like a week or more away by foot. Harvest time in this location has to happen sometime between August and mid to late September before the Winter rains start. It is something of a calculated risk for all parties concerned. One potential outcome is staggered harvesting with different groups.
DeleteI wonder how IMPORTANT is food. Bread was before Walmart the basis of the daily meal aka "Give us this day our daily bread".
DeleteIf it's important, it can be done. Even a camping trip to learn and harvest.
It is funny, Michael. Bread (and carbohydrates in general) have acquired a bad rap in the last five years ago where, as you point out, historically it has been one of the mainstays of many diets.
DeleteSounds like Seneca's expectations weren't met. So much of life is that way, isn't it? Even so, it was a useful trip. I agree with the Colonel about the value of making contacts.
ReplyDeleteLeigh, Seneca (like myself) seems to have inflated ideas of what can be accomplished and things often smack of a "all or nothing" sort of steel cage death match. Life is not like that, of course.
DeleteIt occurs to me that contacts are useful in actual life. Why those would be different in such a situation, I have no idea - in fact, likely they would be more important.