February 5

Sohad been beaten down so that there was a relatively flat area. A weathered square of ply wood was fastened to four poles, obviously a table as evidenced by a tin plate and a fork sitting on one corner, the one side was next to one end of the bed which must also have served as a chair.

Bob stepped on into the small room and  started examining it and its contents in detail. In one corner he found a wooden box, it contained a varied assortment of things ranging from table utensils to a ball pein hammer to a mason jar full of nails and a few screws, there was more but he turned his attention to the rest of the room. Along the wall behind the barrel stove were clothes hanging on nails, a pair of rubber boots lying beneath them, there were two galvanized but rusty buckets on the floor next to the door. There were half a dozen pieces of what must have been fire wood stacked a couple of feet from the stove. He noted immediately that they had been sawn and not chopped.

There was a small four pane window set into an end wall on a slight angle.

‘Better have a look around the outside’ he thought, ‘I can look at everything later.’

Bob turned and went back out the door and went around to what he thought of as the back; there he found a lean-to built against the logs, with a quantity of sawn firewood neatly stacked. There was also a one man crosscut saw hanging by its handle from the wall and single bit axe set into a small chopping block. The handles of both tools were somewhat chewed away. “Squirrels or mice”, he said aloud.

Bob pulled the axe up and out of the chopping block, then after leaning it against the small woodpile, sat on the block.

His mind was in a turmoil; there was no doubt that the cabin was abandoned, he needed shelter but should he leave the beach? If he was to be rescued his chances were greater along the shore than back in the bush. While he sat mulling over his options he at first absently then alertly noted that there was a trail leading on into the bush from where he was, then he became aware of a noise. He couldn’t put a source to the noise or even a probable cause. Shrugging it off he rose to his feet and sauntered over to where the trail entered the bush then on a whim he decided to follow it for a while.

Within minutes he arrived at another small clearing that had as its center piece a ten foot high pile of decaying branches and assorted sizes of chunks of wood, just beyond the pile there was another opening with nothing but sky forming the backdrop. He hurried past the pile and in a few feet found himself on a bank; somewhat less than two hundred feet below him was a rocky beach and beyond was nothing but empty sea and sky.

“Well that’s open Pacific”, he muttered. “More chance of spotting a boat out there than where I came ashore.”

He stood gazing out for a few minutes, then speaking aloud again said, “Yep I’ll move up, a coloumn of smoke is a coloumn of smoke no matter where and should be seen easier from here than on the on the other side.”

He turned and retraced his steps. When he reached the cabin he hesitated then moved on back down the sloping trail.rry I have not been on for a few days. The wifi was down then yesterday we drove over to Mesa and spent the night. Got back at 11am today then bowled this afternoon.
Here is some more of the story (yes, I did manage to get a bit done.)