Seeking Morels | Chapter Ten (complete)

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Previously: Jonah finds Granddad’s lost journal. Granddad’s two final entries inspire Jonah to take specific action.

“WAIT HERE, I just need to grab the pick-adze.” Inside the shop office Jonah smuggled the journal into his pack. Eyeing the broken desk, he cringed, grabbed the pick-adze, then checking his list, gave a nod and departed.

“We need the pick-axe to find morels?”

“Pffft, pick-adze, Reinhardt, A-D-Z-E,” Jonah scoffed. He looked to the horizon and the sun, with right arm outstretched and palm facing him, he estimated the remaining daylight. “Hmm, less than an hour,” he said under his breath.

“What?”

“Yes, Reinhardt, we need the pick-adze to find the morels. Come on, we’re headed east.”

They entered through the gate they had repaired that Friday. Following a pig trail, they walked east. Passing by the sink hole, Reinhardt asked, “Shouldn’t we search around this spot? They've been here before.”

“Not today, it’s still too early in the season. Today we head far-far-east into the woods.”

Soon the pig trail meandered south. Jonah retrieved his compass from his backpack and reset their course. With the woodland foliage still new, it was a tame trek. Eventually they approached a shift in the ground. This formed a steep cliff-like bank which blocked their course. Above the bank a very overgrown tangled mess of thickets grew. Jonah stooped at the base of the bank and observed erosion among the rock. The earth at his feet was damp, and the pale purple blossoms of Waterleaf speckled about.

“Reinhardt, hand me that pick-adze.” Jonah slipped the pack off and set it against the wall of the cliff. With pick-adze in hand Jonah explored, jarring a few rocks around with the pick of the tool.

“Jonah, morels don’t grow in the rocks.”

“Right,” Jonah confirmed, “can you shoulder the pack for a little?”

Reinhardt set the rope down and shouldered the pack. “Let me check something,” Jonah said. He set the pick-adze next to the rope. While Reinhardt had the pack on, Jonah rummaged inside and pulled out the journal. He opened to Granddad’s sketch. “Reinhardt, look at this spot here.” Jonah brought the map into his view. “Do you see—?”

“Wow! Is that a real map!?” Reinhardt broke in.

“Yes, it’s a map—”

“That’s in one of Granddad’s journals? Which one? I never saw a map, and you never mentioned one.”

“Yes, I know. I’d forgotten,” Jonah said. “It’s a map to morels. Now look here, would you say this spot is where we are?”

Reinhardt reached out to take the map in hand, but Jonah pulled it away.

Jonah continued, “Look, I think this is where we are.”

“May I see, please?”

“Yeah, in a minute, look here.” Jonah pointed at the erosion among the rocks. “Does it look like water has eroded this spot? But see how it’s not from above, there isn’t a path coming down, but it starts around this rocky area.”

“I see. What does that mean?”

“I think it means, probably when there are heavy rains, water comes out of the ground here along the base of this ridge—but apparently not all the time. And see this Waterleaf? My guess is during a lot of rain it flows out—just a trickle, but enough to keep the Waterleaf happy.”

“What does that mean for us?”

“I’m just curious if the spot fits the bill,” Jonah said, rubbing his chin, “and I think so. Look at this bank; it’s practically a cliff. Do you think we could climb this?”

Reinhardt looked up and down the bank that stretched in both directions. To the north it curved gently out of sight. He looked directly in front of them. “Maybe with the rope here, if we had a grappling hook, see that area of dead branches?” Reinhardt pointed slightly to the left. “Over those thickets, there’s the top of a fallen tree, but we will get caught in the brambles. Maybe we could go farther around the north side there,” he said, pointing where it curved out of sight. “Does the map want us to go over this?”

“That does look like the top of a fallen tree,” Jonah agreed. “Let’s follow this around the north, I expect it will curve eastward until we come out along the east border of the woods.” He slipped the journal back into the pack; he had not let Reinhardt take a closer look. “I’ll carry the pick and rope for a while. Let’s go.”

Following the bank, they found it curved east. Several spots of decaying wood hinted at the prospect of morels. “Is this the spot?” Reinhardt asked more than once.

“We’re getting close to the grand prize,” Jonah reassured. “We aren’t looking for some little morel here or there, but the big stash. Let’s keep going.”

“Okay, if you say so.” Reinhardt followed his brother, but continued to look over his shoulder at spots that caught the morel-hunter’s eye. “We’re losing daylight too, Jonah.”

“We’re nearly there, Reinhardt, have some patience.”

“Don’t blame me, it’s the sun. It’s practically set.”

As Reinhardt was saying this, they stepped out from the tree line. The east horizon was quite dark by this hour, and with the remaining sunlight on the other side of the woods, the area was all in shadow.

“Damn, it is getting dark fast,” Jonah admitted. “Hold still, Reinhardt.” He rummaged in the pack on his little brothers back and pulled out a flashlight. He switched on the light, but it was not dark enough to make the flashlight useful. “Getting darker, but not dark, Reinhardt, come on. The morels are going to be along this edge if we head south now. Keep looking for an opening in the thickets.”

Jonah quickened his pace with a renewed pep in his step. Reinhardt loosened the pack and trudged behind. And the distance between them grew.

Suddenly Jonah turned into the woods and became lost to Reinhardt’s sight. “Jonah! Wait!” Reinhardt jogged up to the spot where he lost him; the pack bounced and jostled on his shoulders. Jonah reappeared from a small opening in the tangle of brush and vine. “Keep up, Reinhardt, geez, stop freaking out.”

“I’m getting tired.”

“I just found the spot and you want to quit?”

“You found the morels? Where?” He was peering at the ground around Jonah’s feet as he asked.

Jonah turned back into the thickening shadows of the dense growth. “I found where they will be, just beyond these brambles.”

Reinhardt took a step back, he shook his head, and fumbled his words, “I don’t think, I feel like there, that we shouldn’t go back into the woods now. It’s gotten so dark…”

The older brother wheeled around. “Fine, Reiner, just go home!” In a swift fury, Jonah dropped the rope and pick-adze and snagged the pack from his little brother. “I’ll get, I’ll…” he trailed off as he foisted the pack on his shoulders.  “Don’t you dare tell Dad!” he finally yelled as he stomped off into the dark.

“Oh, come on, Jonah! Let’s come back in the morning.”

Jonah disappeared among the thickets, becoming lost in the dark. “Jonah, don’t leave me here! And you left the rope!” He looked around. A star was visible on the horizon. Several minutes passed. “I wish I had a watch on,” Reinhardt said looking at his wrist. In a more collected voice, he spoke loudly, “Jonah, if we head back now there will still be some light in the west… make it easier to get home… we could leave the rope and pick here… mark our spot? It’d be easier to look for the morels in the morning anyways… I don’t want to wait too much longer for you… could you please at least let me have a flash—?”

The sound of stone cracking on stone interrupted Reinhardt. Then for a moment all was quiet. Slowly the sounds of animal life began to creep under the leaves at his feet and creak on the limbs above his head.

“Jonah! Jonah, stop it!” His voice sounded muffled by the woods. He ran forward a step into the thicket to follow Jonah’s path, but past the first thicket, he could not see in the dark where his older brother had gone. “JO-NAH!!” His final scream cracked as tears came on. He ran for home.

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