In The Mountains—DAY
The Sailor is floating down the creek on his back. He has jumped into the water at the springhead at lunch break to cool down. But he kicks up his feet and the current sweeps him out into the mountainside. I know he will eventually wind up in the canal in the Village, which is where we are regrouping the crew later, so I am not at all so worried for his safety. More so, I am worried that he should be doing something more proactive than floating on his back.
My survey transect is following along the creek as is, and so he is view most of the time as I inspect the creek bank. He is in the deeper, far side and calls to me to join him. At length, I think, “Fuck it. It’s hot, and I can see the bank well enough from the water.”
As soon as I get in and tip back, a large freshwater stingray slithers over me and I jump and sling it off. It goes towards the Sailor.
“Rays are just curious,” he says “And, besides, they just feel like a dog licking you. You just have to get used to it.”
“It’s not for me.” I call back. I try the shallower side. It’s only about six inches deep. It’s no good. To shallow to float. I climb out of the creek and tell the Sailor I will meet him back at the Village boat ramp. I quickly make my way back up to the road.
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