09 - Tent Ropes and Captive Campers - Fiction
Story index at the bottom
By Sarobah
Sat May 19, 2012 2:50 am
This is a rewrite of my earlier story, Tent Ropes and Captive Campers, which I decided could do with a revamp. Most has been substantially revised, although some parts, in particular the prologue, are similar to the original, albeit more polished (hopefully).
Anyway, here it is. As in the original, the people are real and just about everything in the story is true, having happened at one time or another, just not in a single, five-day adventure.
Prologue
Just as we crested the ridge, the fugitive sun at last revealed himself, breaking through the bleak grey blanket of cloud. After many hours of slogging through the dank gloom of the forest, hemmed in by the oppressive stillness, weary, clammy and sore, we paused for just a moment to bask in the soothing warmth and light and to take in the view.
Beyond a ragged hedgerow, stretched out before us was a broad, deep valley in the full bloom of spring. Along its floor, a silver ribbon meandered through a chequerboard of fields and a spiderweb tracery of paved and dirt roads. Scattered across the bluffs and spurs flanking the river were a few isolated farm houses with their attendant sheds and barns. Cattle and horses grazed serenely in the meadows. There was no sign of people, no traffic, no sound but the chirrup of crickets and the chatter of birds.
We started downwards.
I was at the rear of the line, and by the time I had reached the summit, the vanguard of our party was already beginning the descent. I stopped to draw a breath and take in the panorama, before a brusque tug on my halter urged me forward. Rivulets of perspiration seeped into my eyes; a maddening itch tormented my nose; a host of mosquitoes and their arthropodic allies besieged my unprotected flesh; but with my hands bound I was defenceless. My throat was parched, even as the wad of cloth clenched between my teeth was sodden with my sweat and saliva. Errant tree branches and talons of undergrowth clawed at my exposed arms and legs. The straps of my overladen backpack furrowed the skin of my bare shoulders, and the weight grew heavier with each laboured step.
The file bunched up abruptly where a fallen red cedar barred our way forward. Once a giant of the forest, it was now but a sad, decaying hulk. Yet the trunk was still waist high where it straddled the walking track. Two of the boys began assisting Rachel to clamber across. She slipped and pitched sideways, skidding on her backside along the log before sliding off and disappearing on the far side. My brother, who had been reconnoitring farther up the trail, came back and helped her to her feet. Much of her body was caked in mud, a thick, black, gelatinous goo. Alex obligingly dabbed the muck from around her eyes, nose and mouth. He flicked away the leaves and sticks that had pasted to her skin. He readjusted her gag, which had been slightly displaced during her spill.
I did not see Rachel’s expression as she steadied herself, mustering what vestige remained of her dignity, and set off again down the path. Alex scrambled after her, almost losing his own footing on the slimy ground. He seized the leash that trailed behind her and pulled the girl back into her proper place in the line. Meanwhile, behind me I could hear Jenna, stumbling along at the rear of the column. She was gasping and puffing, and must have been wondering what was causing the hold-up. As I blinked away beads of sweat to study the obstacle before me, I was glad it was her turn to wear the blindfold.
The blockage appeared impassable; but at least I could learn from Rachel’s misfortune. Matt took hold of my arm and tried to guide me towards where the trunk bifurcated, but I angrily shook free of his grip. I muffled a warning through my gag, and he backed away. So without his aid, I carefully slung one leg over. With my wrists secured below my belly, I could not use my arms for balance, but I could place my hands on the trunk directly in front to steady myself as I swung my other leg over. My boyfriend stood behind me, ready to catch if I tumbled backwards, but I was extra-cautious. Even so, as I slid down to land squarely on my feet, the coarse bark peeled skin from the backs of my thighs. It stung, but I did not react. I would not allow him the satisfaction.
Once Beth and Jenna had taken their turns to negotiate the barrier, the rest of our passage to the foot of the mountain was incident-free, though no less arduous. We had lost half an hour and so needed to increase our pace to make up for the delay. By the time we reached level ground, I was panting heavily. My leg muscles burned and my shoulders ached. Matt padded my brow and cheeks with his sleeve, and brushed a strand of hair from my eyes. He caressed my neck and refitted the loop of rope that encircled my throat, where it had begun to chafe. He massaged my raw shoulders; but he did not relieve me of the oppressive weight of my pack; and once we were ready to move on, without a word he yanked hard on my leash. I followed, unresisting.
Day One
I have never understood people’s infatuation with camping. To me, it’s about sand in your shoes, bugs in your hair, charcoal in your food, spiders in your bed and snakes in the toilet. Whereas my idea of roughing it is no room service. Still, there’s something about a rustling tent, a crackling fire and the smell of carbonized meat that turns folks misty-eyed. So when my good friends organized a hiking and camping trip of our very own, I really had no choice but to go along.
The instigator was Rachel, my otherwise best friend. Knowing my aversion to all thinks camp-like, she undermined my resistance by suborning my boyfriend Matt. I took revenge by inviting my brother Alex – Rachel’s arch nemesis – to join us. Matt, in the meantime, had recruited his buddy Ricardo, who brought along his girlfriend Beth. Rachel, who was then between loves of her life, looked askance at our twosomes, and dreading the prospect of a pair-up with my brother, tried to break up the couplings by issuing a summons to classmates Hamish and Jenna, whose only shared feelings were a fiery hatred. Alex, feeling left out as the youngest, and bereft of gal pals, invited his sidekick Osman (alias Oz-Man, aka Oz). And so we were nine.
We were an odd mix, but in a way that worked in our favour – like putting together a bunch of noxious chemicals and making perfume. A five-day expedition was planned, into the national park about an hour’s journey from home. Beth and Matt drove us there. They were the logical choice, being the only ones among us with both a licence and a car. We aimed at setting up our first camp after a full day’s trek that would take us to the foothills. On the second day, we would hike for about six hours into the mountains, to a secluded place that Rachel assured us was a slice of paradise (without explaining specifically what that meant). On day three, we would have to cross a series of precipitous ridges and gorges, to make camp on a river terrace which Rachel claimed as another – you guessed it – slice of paradise. After that, following a day of rest and recuperation, and no doubt having had our fill of paradisiacs, on the final day we would skirt the high country and return to our base, via a circuitous route that was nevertheless essentially flat.
Day one went as planned. We left the cars in a secure parking spot at the ranger station, where we also filed the details of our excursion in case of an emergency. Then we set off into the wilderness. We reached our objective on schedule, about an hour before sunset, and managed to get our tents up and a fire started just as the darkness closed in. Even I had to concede it was rather romantic to be out there in the middle of nowhere, with just my friends, gazing into the cavorting flames, cooking sausages and potatoes in the coals, while flamboyant clouds of glowing embers rose like whirling dervishes into the evening air and danced among the stars.
Since we had to carry everything we needed on our backs, we’d brought with us just two tents. The couples – Beth and Rick, Matt and yours truly – took one, while the other three boys and two girls had the second. Rachel and Jenna found no problem with this arrangement, or at least they had no choice except to haul their own tent or sleep out in the open. Nevertheless, they lay down a harsh set of rules for the guys – “No rude noises, no dirty jokes, no self-service... and stay in your own bed!”
Of course, we also had to ration sleeping bags, so it was a good thing that the nights were warm at this time of year. Each tent was allocated two. Alex, Oz and Hamish agreed to rotate one on a nightly basis, and gallantly allowed Rachel and Jenna to have the other. The girls didn’t mind sharing (at the same time, that is), to the delight of the boys who were to be quickly disillusioned. Meanwhile, we couples each had our own. However, we were too tired for anything but slumber. Yet as I snuggled up to Matt, I thought how well things had gone. Maybe this was not such a bad idea after all. My only grumble was that four more days of hiking could become a tad monotonous. It would be nice to have something to liven things up. And as the saying goes: Be careful what you wish for, because it just may come true.
Sarobah
Australia
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Sarobah's stories
- 01 - The Adventure Begins (mm/f)
- 02 - Mayday (F+/F+) in Archives for Adults
- 03 - The Obligatory Babysitter Story (mf/f)
- 04 - Bond-Expo (M+F+/M+F+) in Archives for Adults
- 05 - Captured Commando (f/f)
- 06 - Slavegirl (M+F+/F+, M/F)
- 07 - Uniformity (m/f)
- 08 - Tent Ropes - The True Story (FFF/M, M+/F+)
- 09 - Tent Ropes - Fiction (FFF/M, M+/F+) in Archives for Adults
- 10 - Family Ties (m/ff, m/fff)
- 11 - Setting the record straight... Family Ties, # 2 (m/ff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 12 - The other end of the rope (m/ff, m/f) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 13 - Adventures in Tieland (f/m, mmm/f, m/ff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 14 - Setting the record straight... The awesome foursome (f/f, m/fff) Story from Sarobah's brother Alex
- 15 - Back in the game! (M/F)
- 16 - The Resort (M/F, m/f, M+m+/F+f+)
In Archives for Adults - Balls: The rematch (MMMM/FFFF)
- Birthday Girl (M/F)
- The Girl Next Door (M/F)
- Tie-up Tuesday (M/F)
- The prisoners' dilemma (m/f)
- Château Chaînerie (mmf/f)
- THE TIE-UP CHRONICLES (Continued) (m/f)
- Two first times (m/f)
- Adversity (F/F)
Index of all stories in the "Archive for Everyone" section
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Index of all stories in the "Archive for Adults" section