February 7

I should also have mentioned for those of you that are downloading from Barnes and Noble that if you like adventure try "From Within"

Water Borne--




 He turned and retraced his steps. When he reached the cabin he hesitated then moved on back down the sloping trail.

When he reached the first junction he stopped then looked to where the sun was, it was still early in the day, he had a full bottle of water so swung onto the other fork. Fifteen or twenty minutes later he passed through the thicker brush that bordered the beach area and stepped out onto a log strewn rocky beach.

Picking out a convenient log, he sat and thought about what he should do next. He had a strong feeling that he was on an island and that whether he went left or right he would then have to arrive back at his campsite. There were salal berries all along the shore line so if he used up his water he would still have berries to suck juice from.  ‘Besides, he thought,  ‘I’ll just go for a couple hours and the if I haven’t got there, I can come back and follow the trail back.’

Bob jumped to his feet and headed off down the beach to his left.

  

Chapter 5

Once again Bob fell into the enjoyable role of a beach comber.

The rocky shoreline stretched out ahead in a gentle curve; hundreds perhaps thousands of logs, some in almost neat piles, others strewn about as though tossed like toothpicks by a giant hand covered most of the area adjacent to the bush line.

He quickly found that by walking on top of the logs he could make better time than clambering over the rocks even though occasionally he had to walk around those that were lying helter-skelter.

Also if he was to find anything of use to himself, it would be amongst the logs.

The first half hour passed with no significant finds, net floats were in abundance and he actually found two of the large glass balls popular with Japanese fishermen, these he moved back to the edge of the bush and once again used plastic bags as markers. Finally he spotted a varnished spear of wood which turned out to be a wooden deck chair with one leg missing the last few inches. This he hung from a drooping alder branch then to make sure he also flagged it with another plastic bag.   ‘My God,’ he thought, ‘people and plastic bags are the worst pollution combination on earth.’

A little further on he spotted the unmistakable stern of a small wooden  boat sticking  out from where it had been storm or tide driven into the alders and salal.

He jumped from log to log to the wreck but when he got close he could see that part of the bow was crushed in and the ribs had been caved in on one side.

Never the less he stepped over the gunwale to examine the inside. It had probably been about sixteen or seventeen feet long. It had never had a cabin but the bow was enclosed by a small cuddy which was partly intact. Inside the cuddy he found a rusted tackle box and rolled up rain slicker snagged on one of the broken boards.

He pulled both items out and quickly opened the catch on the tackle box. Inside was an assortment of lures, most of them rusted, but four of them in reasonable condition but most importantly in the bottom wrapped in an oily but fishy smelling rag was a filleting knife!