Tinkerbell dodges and gyrates wildly as it follows the creek bed headed for Jim. It hides behind trees and zigzags across open ground. It’s poetry in motion and the glider targeting system is not up to the task of zeroing in on the floater. Jim smiles at the sight. When Tinkerbell gets twenty meters from Jim, the glider loses interest. It passes overhead then rises lazily on the air currents once again and soon disappears into the overcast.
“Jim, the target is Tinkerbell. It doesn’t have its own beeper, so when you left, it became eligible. The media guys got it pulled out of the slush just as the glider came up, and they’ve been playing Astro Fox trying to get Tinkerbell close to you. Park Service says they can’t do a thing, but you’re in no danger—as long as you’ve got your beeper.”
“Thanks for the update,” sighs Jim. His breath is back and he continues down next to the creek bed. Behind him the clouds coalesce and the peaks disappear in a rainy, snowy mist. The cold north wind catches up with him and the wet mist soon follows.
“Jim, you’ve got to keep moving, there’s no split. The jetstream has moved south and the storm will be strengthening.”
There never was a trail down Oweep Creek. Sometimes Jim finds a game run but most of the time he’s picking his way down a steep pine-covered slope. His knees start aching and he starts stumbling.
He rests, but while he rests the rain gets stronger.
It’s late afternoon. The west side of Oweep creek canyon ends and Jim breaks onto an old north-south trail west of Lake Fork River.
“Jim, Moon Lake is four miles downstream and there’s an old campsite two miles beyond that on the west side.” Jim looks around. The trees are tall enough here.
“Time for a break.” He climbs under some pine boughs, sits down with his back leaning against the trunk, pulls his knees up to his chest, and spreads his poncho over his aching knees. He pulls out a food pack and after admiring it like a fine wine, sensuously squeezes out a meal. Jim knows he should push for Moon Lake, but the shelter, the meal, the memories of the morning overwhelm his good sense.
Jim sleeps.