And there we are. There you have it. Or we have it. Or maybe it has us. Other way around. So there we were the three of us quite literally up a tree, up a very tall tree. But that didn’t help the situation much you see because the grindiffels can climb trees. But at least they have to do it one by one which means that fighting them off becomes easier. Also if you can somehow get their center of gravity far enough out they will fall and maybe not be able to catch a branch on the way down. On the other hand or should I say on the other claw, maybe they would. It all depends. Depending on the branch that is. So there we were up the Tolutatuc tree in the middle of the woods. Could we climb to another tree and get away that way? Possibly. But they might just track us from the ground too. No, it was a difficult, almost impossible situation. Plus Judy was bleeding and dripping some blood onto the ground which didn’t help matters much as it made the cats, if you can call them that, more aroused, anticipating food, stimulating their appetites like a delicate hors d’oeuvre.

What to do? Any ideas would be appreciated. We didn’t have much patience for brainstorming. It’s harder to think, which is funny when you stop to think about it, that adrenalin reduces the possibility of thinking. You’d think it would be the other way around but I guess evolution doesn’t work that way. Survival more often meant running away as fast as you can and those who stop to think get eaten and that’s the end of them. No thinking genes get passed down. No, it’s only recently, in evolutionary time, that thinking gave us much of an advantage. Very recently. But then you wonder, how did we develop this wondrous capacity to think anyway if it wasn’t usually survivally beneficial? Must have had some kind of advantage.

Most likely, as some theorists have it, the other kind of selection, not the so-called natural selection, but Darwin’s sexual selection which often leads to features which don’t seem to be the best for survival, at least not for survival of the individual who has them. Like the peacock’s big and heavy tail which would undoubtedly make it more difficult to escape predators. Same goes for the buck’s huge antlers which only have the function of fighting other bucks to impress the females. “Oh, how big and strong you are!”

Something like that may have been the case for the early human’s brain capacity – it may actually have been contra-survival at first but had something to do with impressing the potential mates, and only after it developed did it turn out to be good for the survival and in fact dominance of the species. Evolution is full of surprises. Sometimes a very promising feature turns out to be a dead end.

A dead end is right. Total dead end and nowhere to go. Seemed like this would be the end of the line. What to do? A skyhook? Yeah, right. No helicopters on this planet. Pristine as they say. Knew a girl once named Christine and she was indeed pristine. Pristine Christine. Anyway there we were as I said before, didn’t I? Best thing to do go with the flow, roll with the momentum which meant in that case – yes, there was one branch we might make it to, one by one, the big catlike creatures down below were getting restless and casting hungry looks at us. But thanks to our glorious simian heritage, we apelike creatures have hands with fingers and thumbs, just a matter of getting that old primate thing going, shouldn’t be too hard so… Yes! I went first, swinging over and catching the other branch just barely, got out of the way for the others to follow this folly,, this fol-de-rol and our pets on the ground watching with interest. Would there be another? Yes, in fact easier than the first but as I suspected the creatures simply followed along on the ground.. Night coming soon which probably would give them an advantage, suppose they have better night vision than we do. Do do be do.

At least it’s no longer a dead end. A living end maybe. I could now see that a tree not too far away had a branch which came sufficiently close to a cliff. Guess its time for a cliffhanger in this story too. If you write enough fragments of stories eventually you can put them together and make a complete story, just as going in a straight line on the planet eventually gets you back to the starting point. So keep going, tree to tree, the catawalpussies still tracking us on the ground but! There seems to be a cave in the face of the cliff. Is it big enough for us and is it defensible? It’s inaccessible from above and they can’t get up by the cliff face, but — if we can make it from the trees they can too. There must be some way. Tune in for the next exciting episode…

The next exciting episode. Cats versus apes. Intelligent apes, in this case, at least we hope so. Luck! The branch doesn’t lead directly to the cave but very close to the cliff face about ten feet higher up. And… Leo has some strong lightweight nylon rope in his knapsack. Yes you heard right. Leo. Truth is stranger than fiction. Anyway. Presumably these cat creatures can’t climb rope, at least they don’t appear to have anything like hands. So if we tie off the rope on the branch and use it to climb down to the cave… getting up again might be harder. Better put some knots in it beforehand, I suggested. Worse fate, to starve in the cave, or maybe eat each other until the last one dies. Good enough, knots every foot or so, still won’t let the cat things down and… here we are! A few rations in the bags, enough to get us through the night anyway, then we’ll see. Hopefully. We don’t even know how long the nights are here, do we? Oh yes, that info is in the file which I haven’t had time to look at yet, being preoccupied with minor matters such as survival.

Survival. Of the fittest? Maybe. Fit in some way anyway. Survival until the next dawn. How long? Very Earthlike, about 12 to 13 hours. Snooze time. Fortunately not very cold. Eating some rations, drinking some water. Space blankets from the packs. No padding though. It’s going to be hard.

Hard, very hard. Better than being eaten, though. Is this a test? Why are we here? Is it a simulation? I don’t know, but I can’t remember much before this morning. Maybe it’s a test which is a simulation, in which case if we die, nothing worse happens than we fail the test. I don’t want to find out, though. The rock sure feels real. My stomach growls from hunger. That feels real too.

We clean the cut on Judy’s arm – not deep, just bloody – with alcohol and apply some antibacterial cream, then just to be on the safe side, some antifungal too, assuming those have any meaning on this planet, and wrap it up. Something screeching rhythmically which on Earth would be cicadas or something like.

Anybody know any good ghost stories?

Not sure if I’m dreaming or awake. The stars bright outside, through the door of the cave. Still the insect sounds, if that’s what they are. Cool, but not too cold. When I wake again daylight. Breakfast. A few sips of water and half a ration bar. Yum. What’s next, kiddies?

What’s next? How about rescue? How about getting out of this fucking place? No, not for now. This is a test, remember? A test of what? Survival skills? Teamwork? Thinking under pressure? Patience? All of the above?

What do we have to do, besides, survive? We also have to move. To where? There’s a spot, about ten miles from here, which we can find with our local compasses and a terrain map, and we have to be there at a certain time, 3 days from now. If we’re not there at that time… well, no point thinking about that. Shall we get a move on, kids? Daylight is burning.

No sign of the grindiffels. There may be other predators lurking. We climb the knotted rope up to the tree and recover it. Can we make it to the top of the cliff? That would save some time going around as it’s in the right direction. Come to think of it, the gravity is less here. That’s probably what saved our dumb asses. We practically levitated up that tree.

No trees going as high as the top of the cliff, at least none close enough. An anchor maybe? Risky. Tom has a hook in his pack, like a tiny ship’s anchor, made of a superstrong and light resin. Might be able to throw to the top of the cliff from the highest branches of the tree. There’s enough rope. But there’s only one pair of climbing gloves, with rough grip built into the palms. Okay, we can share. One goes up, pulls up the rope and lets the gloves down on it.

Tom has been a sailor. He knows how to throw a heaving line. He climbs up as high as he can, ties the other end of the rope on and throws the hook. It reaches the top of the cliff but slides off and falls down. Second try, same. Maybe there’s nothing up there to hook to. It’s a long shot anyway. Third time’s a charm. The hook catches on something. Good thing too as the grindiffels have returned and watch with interest.

Tom hangs on the rope with one hand, the other hand clutching a stout branch. It holds. He dons the climbing gloves and, with a wave, swings over against the cliff, climbs hand over hand with his feet braced against the cliff. He gets to the top and working sideways, finds a crack he can wedge himself into and use both hands to heave himself up. We spent a long time working out, building our muscles for just such a contingency.

He pokes his head over the edge. “Untie the end so I can send down the gloves.” We do so and he ties the gloves on and throws them with a well aimed toss so that we can catch the rope. I tell Judy to go next. Primal fears come up, being the last one. What if the rope breaks or something else goes wrong and I’m stuck here on my own? But at the last I make it. A little tricky as I can’t leave the end tied on, of course. And there we are. Only about noon with the sun overhead. No trees near, it’s a savannah with some groves in the distance. Not good if anything attacks. We head for the nearest grove.

Sunny but… is that a cloud? Oh-oh. There’s flying creature, something like a pterodactyl. Fucking huge! And predatory. We have no weapons. Still 200 yards or so to the trees. We run for it. Judy trips and falls as the bird swoops over her. Lucky fall, that. We help her up and sprint for the trees. The bird dives again and I leap and roll as it soars past. Then we’re in the shade of the trees, taking stock of our scrapes and bruises. Nothing incapacitating. Mostly we just have the stink of fear. Hope that won’t attract other predators.

From here we can make it to the pickup place within a day if there are no major hazards. We consult and decide to work out a good shelter here in the grove for tonight and try to find some fresh food so we don’t use up all our rations.

Found (stole) some bird’s eggs in a nest up a tree. At least they look like bird’s eggs, about half the size of chicken eggs. Judy set a snare and bagged a little rabbitlike creature. We built a fire and roasted it. We also found some edible leaves, our electronic sniffer didn’t detect any poisons and they taste good, like rucola. Likewise some edible mushrooms. Built a small fire and cooked while still daylight, keeping a good lookout.

Tom developed a fever during the night, worrying, but he says he’s ok to carry on. We’ll see. We have antibiotics of course but who knows if or how well they will work here. Slept high in the trees, in hammocks.

Light rain in the morning but not cold. We took turns stripping down and rinsing off, while the others kept watch. Felt good. Now to strike out for the meeting place.

Except… how will we find it when the compasses don’t work? Each of our compasses points in a different direction. Is one of them right? And if so, which one? Is there some other way to find the right direction? There’s no north star here, obviously. The map has some features on it. Maybe we can navigate by them. What about the cliff we just risked our lives to ascend? That’s a major feature, should be on the map if it’s close enough to the point. There it is, but it’s very long, and we don’t know where on it we were. At least it gives us a rough direction.

Are the compasses stable? Seems so. The one that points away from the cliff, maybe we can use that as an arbitrary north and get our directions from it. That is, in fact, roughly the direction we need to go. But there’s still the question of just where we are. If there was something to triangulate on. A hill? Seems pretty flat. The meet point is not very far but if we waste time going in the wrong direction we could miss it. Wasn’t it supposed to have a radio beacon or something? Judy thinks just a flag. But they had to give us some way to find it? It’s marked on the map so if we can figure out where we are, we will know what direction to go. Celestial navigation? No star tables, no sextant anyway. We don’t even know what the axial tilt is if there is one, or what time of year it is. But that gave me an idea, an old boy scout trick. Plant a stick as vertical as possible and mark the end of its shadow through and past midday. the shortest shadow will be local noon and its direction either due North or South.

We do that; it’s a start, though it doesn’t tell us yet just where we are, and we find that the compass that points away from the cliff is the closest to North, just ten degrees off. If we move perpendicularly away from the line of the cliff, we might get to where we can see one of the hills marked on the chart. If we keep accurate pace counts so we know how far away from it we are, and if we can see two or more features, we may be able to guess where we are. There’s also the problems of food, water, predators, and finding shelter for the night. Oh well, nobody said it would be easy. We’re ready to move out.

Whammmbo! Slammmbo! Gross slush jellybean stuff. Winding around and miles of guts, slime, gurus and the sublime, we never know what it will be, reproduction or reincarnation as a three legged snotrat on Betelgeuse. A reddish star, that’s where we are, definitely affects you, like being slightly or even moderately or even totally fucking stoned out of your gourd, do they have gourds here? Don’t know. I mean there’s life here ain’t there? Or is it all a dream, maybe a simulation? Good idea, simulation. I mean after all it don’t make sense and why can’t we remember stuff. Unless they treated us somehow before we left. But better to be cautious. If it’s a simulation we can’t actually be hurt but on the other paw, gramps, what if it’s not? What if it’s snot?? Real boogers, that is.

What a whiz. Makes my head hurt and the sun is hot. Don’t even have a hat, I don’t. Tried to fake one with some leaves like they do in Thailand, but it fell apart. Don’t have the knack. The hat-knack. Hat knack for a hat rack. Yes, so. Everybody is freaking out a little. Don’t have access to internet or any kind of net, don’t have computers or smartphones. No phones at all! Kind of unnerving when you’ve grown up with all that stuff and kind of take it for granted, it’s just part of life like air and sunshine. Back to nature. Always scoffed at that but here it is for real. As real as the blisters on my feet and the sunburn on my face.

On my face and in your face. Not a trace. So, trudging on. What are those in the distance? Look like elephants. Oh, my. Are there snakes here? Birds there are, or something like it, maybe closer to the lizard types than on Earth. The air seems to be rich though, maybe a higher percentage of oxygen. If so should be more wildfires when it’s dry.

We see a hill in the distance and that narrows it down. We head for it to get a good measure of the distance. So flat here a bicycle would be nice. A bicycle built for two. Or even three, as the case may be. Maybe.

Yes indeedyo. I do. I do declare, what do you dare, whatever comes out in the wash, make it or shake it, take it or flake it, it’s all totally together. We’re starting to hallucinate a little, must be the hot sun, or was it those mushrooms we ate for breakfast? They looked and tasted pretty normal and our scanners didn’t find any poison. Hmmm. The sky is all purple and polka dotted. Didn’t look like that before. Is it a storm coming on?

In fact that does look kind of like a tornado. I never knew elephants could fly. I mean Dumbo, you know, but for real. Guess it really is a tornado. Coming this way too, and no cover, we’re in the middle of a flat open plain. Fuck! If that elephant lands on us we’re finished. Lots of dust and it’s getting colder. Might as well say goodby, don’t think we’re going to survive this one.

OH shit! Did we survive? I guess so since I’m able to ask the question. I don’t know yet if I’m injured, everything seems to be hurting. Where are the others? A lot of trash everywhere, but no elephant, that I can see. There they are, and together too. Miraculous, it seems we all came through without serioius injury, just scrapes and bruises. Oh no! The map is lost. That’s bad. How will we find the pickup spot? Let alone know where we are. What to do?

Well at least Tom still has his compass. That’s something. Not a lot, but something. What can we do? At any rate have to move on, time’s a wastin’ and we don’t want to be caught out on the plains at night. Head for the hills! Or at least the one hill. And find some water before our canteens run dry which they will do very soon. Best to make it to the hill we spotted before. We will have time to make it. Good thing the days are long, and we are able to walk.

Walking, walking. Was that a snake? We don’t know but never say die. There must be a way out of this dilemna. One, two. One, two. Button my shoe. It’s hot. But it will be cold, well cool, anyway. We’ve got to get to the trees. Will there be water? We hope.

Okay, okay. Made it to the hill, found a stream for water, trees to sleep in. So here we are, and if we can’t figure out how to find the meeting point, we’ll be stranded on a strange planet. Tom remembers something. Something from the map, a peculiar feature that caught his attention. There were three hills, forming a triangle, and the meeting place was near that. Not far, in the directon of the cliff. They will have some kind of marker, a flag or something, maybe smoke, so if we get near we will find it. Which way to the three hills? He thinks it’s to the right from here, looking the way we’ve been going. How far? We don’t know. But no one has a better idea, so…

Off we go. Tra la la la laddy. Shall we stay here forever, my maties? No? It would be so Peter Pannish. Oh well. Tramping along. Spirits high. No sign yet of the three hills. We have one more day, pickup is tomorrow midday. If we make it.

Night coming and still no hill triangle. We can’t go back now, have to find shelter. Anyway, no use now to go the other way, too late for that. If we don’t find them tomorrow… Marooned. Kind of like the sound of that. Castaways. How long could we survive without any gear, without tools, we don’t have any weapons except for knives. Hmmm, would be interesting, maybe take bets on how long we could make it. Would we have a group marriage? A triangle, that is, would we have children and get a colony going? Anyway one more night for sure and then – we have no more rations, enough for a small share tonight and in the morning.

We try to keep our spirits up. We make a small fire. We tell stories of our childhoods.

Last day. We go on. No use going back, we’ve cast our bet. Is that it, on the horizon? Could be. I see two hills fairly plainly, in the haze. Do we have time to make it, even if that is it? We’ll see.

Two hours to midday. Sun is hot. Sweating, we slog on. And finally, yes! a third hill becomes visible. We should be able to see the signal soon. I guess they will scan the area too, we will hear something. Getting closer, it seems advisable to climb the nearest hill, at least part way. We do so. Judy spies it first, a plume of smoke, off to the right. Has to be it. We can make it, we head in that direction.

So be it. We are here and we have made it. So what now, mama? End of story? No way!

I want to be the first to say hi to the galapalooza, the biggest tumbling bear of all time. Whatever you may say, it’s not today. It’s only on special occasions that this happens, makes us all happy to be alive, to survive and strive, whatever. Joe says let it be and I have to agree all the way. Never say die, even if you do die. Could you say die if you already died? A moot point. According to Sherlock. You’ll be in heaven with Jesus or whatever or in the Moslem paradise with ooh-la-la yes oh my lord!