What now? asks Sweezus.
Paco regards him.
Doesn't he know?
We hike up to the second refuge, says Pauline. Get some shut-eye and then attempt the final stretch to the summit, arriving at dawn.
You are right, says Paco. Perhaps you know this from eating the stew.
The stew, no, says Pauline. Trip Advisor.
Another way to learn of the future, says Paco. It was a joke though. Shall we be going?
They pick up their gear. They are ready.
No need to rope you together, says Paco. Not till the final climb. Just watch where you're going.
They pass the stones piled up on the dead frogs.
Sweezus takes a photo.
He sends it to Gaius.
Maybe you shouldn't have done that, says Arthur.
Minutes later Sweezus's phone rings.
Hello, it's Gaius, says Gaius.
I know, says Sweezus. Did you get the photo?
Yes I did, says Gaius. Stones, with frogs' feet just visible. Not dead, are they?
Err, yes, says Sweezus. But they made it up to the first refuge, and they might have gone further.
Might have? says Gaius. Stick to the facts. No. On second thoughts, let me speak to Arthur.
Sweezus hands Arthur the phone.
What is it? asks Arthur. We're just starting out for the second refuge.
Don't let me stop you, says Gaius.
Arthur doesn't. They continue ascending. He, Paco, Pauline and Sweezus.
What exactly happened to the frogs? asks Gaius. I assume they're the tadpoles you began with.
Only two of them, says Arthur. We had to ditch the rest in a stream, before we started.
Why was that? asks Gaius.
Burst out of the bottle, says Arthur. And died.
Ours is a similar experience, says Gaius. But all our tadpoles have died. Which stream did you drop your tadpoles into?
The one near the bus stop, says Arthur.
Good man, says Gaius. Nil desperandum.....crackle crackle.
Arthur is now out of range.
Gaius hastens to relay the information to Simon and the rest of the team.
It is agreed that Saint Roley will fly back to the bus stop and locate the stream. There may be one or two tadpoles that revived when dropped in the water.
It's worth trying.
Otherwise the mission has all been in vain.
Saint Roley flies, straight and fast, on an empty stomach. There is the bus stop. There is the stream.
He lands gracefully.
Peers into the babbling water.
Yes, there are one or two tadpoles. Three! And two more advanced froglets, half in and half out of the water.
Do you speak? asks Saint Roley.
Do you eat frogs? asks a froglet.
Of course not, says Saint Roley, eyeing the tadpoles. I'm here in the interests of science.
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Wednesday, May 30, 2018
Salt Was Our Luck And Our Downfall
Everything okay? asks Pauline.
Yeah, says Sweezus.
Paco stirs the lentils.
Arthur watches the froglets expiring.
Only you mentioned bad luck on the phone just now, says Pauline.
That was just about Cherry, says Sweezus.
A relative? asks Pauline. Surely not a sweetheart?
An electronic parrot, says Sweezus. That was Terence on the phone, a little kid I know. His parrot fell into a swimming pool in Hawaii.
You could have warned him, says Pauline.
Paco looks up from the lentils.
How could that be?
What, with our Sea Salt? says Sweezus. It's not that effective.
It's effective, says Arthur. But only within certain parameters.
What's this about? asks Paco.
It indicates the future, says Arthur. But only the future of the person who's paid for it.
This make perfect sense to Pauline.
But Paco is doubtful.
What if I try it? says Paco. I'll pay you with one extra scoop of this stew.
Okay, says Arthur, taking out the Sea Salt.
What do I do? asks Paco.
Scatter it, says Sweezus. On the floor there.
Paco leans over the froglets to take a few particles from Arthur.
His hands are moist from the steam of the stew.
The salt sticks to his fingers.
He rubs his fingers together. Salt drops into the mouths of the frogs.
Mi culpa, says Paco. My fingers were steamy.
The frogs die at once.
Perhaps it's for the best, says Pauline. It was only going to get worse for them as we ascended.
What to do now with the frogs?
I'll deal with them, says Arthur. He picks them up and takes them outside.
He comes back to find a utensil.
Then goes outside again to where he has left them near the tombstones.
He can't be bothered to dig much of a hole.
Or any hole really.
He covers the froglets with stones, and scratches in the dirt with the utensil.
An elegy for the froglets.
"Salt was our luck and our downfall".
He goes back inside.
Paco has used the rest of the Sea Salt from his fingers to flavour the stew.
There are extra scoops for Arthur and Sweezus, although Paco is none the wiser about the future.
Paco is known for his good will.
So what happened to Cherry? asks Pauline. I suppose she stopped working?
Forgotten everything, says Sweezus. Even the square root of pi.
My my, says Pauline. What a treasure. What else? Could she tot up the shopping?
She could do twice times seven, says Sweezus. So, if you bought two seven dollar items...
Ha ha, laughs Paco. That is funny.
Yeah, says Sweezus.
Paco stirs the lentils.
Arthur watches the froglets expiring.
Only you mentioned bad luck on the phone just now, says Pauline.
That was just about Cherry, says Sweezus.
A relative? asks Pauline. Surely not a sweetheart?
An electronic parrot, says Sweezus. That was Terence on the phone, a little kid I know. His parrot fell into a swimming pool in Hawaii.
You could have warned him, says Pauline.
Paco looks up from the lentils.
How could that be?
What, with our Sea Salt? says Sweezus. It's not that effective.
It's effective, says Arthur. But only within certain parameters.
What's this about? asks Paco.
It indicates the future, says Arthur. But only the future of the person who's paid for it.
This make perfect sense to Pauline.
But Paco is doubtful.
What if I try it? says Paco. I'll pay you with one extra scoop of this stew.
Okay, says Arthur, taking out the Sea Salt.
What do I do? asks Paco.
Scatter it, says Sweezus. On the floor there.
Paco leans over the froglets to take a few particles from Arthur.
His hands are moist from the steam of the stew.
The salt sticks to his fingers.
He rubs his fingers together. Salt drops into the mouths of the frogs.
Mi culpa, says Paco. My fingers were steamy.
The frogs die at once.
Perhaps it's for the best, says Pauline. It was only going to get worse for them as we ascended.
What to do now with the frogs?
I'll deal with them, says Arthur. He picks them up and takes them outside.
He comes back to find a utensil.
Then goes outside again to where he has left them near the tombstones.
He can't be bothered to dig much of a hole.
Or any hole really.
He covers the froglets with stones, and scratches in the dirt with the utensil.
An elegy for the froglets.
"Salt was our luck and our downfall".
He goes back inside.
Paco has used the rest of the Sea Salt from his fingers to flavour the stew.
There are extra scoops for Arthur and Sweezus, although Paco is none the wiser about the future.
Paco is known for his good will.
So what happened to Cherry? asks Pauline. I suppose she stopped working?
Forgotten everything, says Sweezus. Even the square root of pi.
My my, says Pauline. What a treasure. What else? Could she tot up the shopping?
She could do twice times seven, says Sweezus. So, if you bought two seven dollar items...
Ha ha, laughs Paco. That is funny.
Tuesday, May 29, 2018
What Room For Joy?
Bienvenido, says Paco. Please enter.
Pauline enters the hut.
Wraack-ack! comes from the bottle.
Frogs? Up here? says Paco. May I ask why you've brought them?
Ask them, says Pauline.
Sweezus has entered. Arthur hasn't.
Yeah well, says Sweezus. Just keeping an eye on them for science.
They will die up here on Chimborazo, says Paco.
Maybe not, says Sweezus. They've been salted.
Ridiculous isn't it, says Pauline. These guys and their salt. They sell it.
It's not the same salt, says Sweezus.
Paco is not all that intereseted in what salt it is or isn't.
Sit, says Paco. I will prepare lentil stew. Where is the other climber?
Went to look at the tombstones, says Sweezus.
Arthur stands in a sloped boulder field, among the tombstones.
People who have died on the mountain.
He thinks of Bolívar, and how he saw Time, with scraps in his pockets.
He hears chopping, from inside the hut.
He goes inside. Paco is chopping the onions.
Estoy desolado, says Paco, but there is only one of me, and three of you. For the climb, will you mind being roped together?
Ha ha, laughs Pauline. I won't mind.
Like how close together? asks Sweezus.
Paco stirs the lentils.
Not too close, says Paco.
Wrack-ack! comes faintly from the bottle.
See to your frogs, says Paco.
Sweezus gets up.
The froglets have now absorbed their tails completely. Normally, a moment of joy.
But here they are, three quarters up Chimborazo, in a bottle, smelling nasty onions and finding their new lungs inadequate.
What room for joy?
And now here is a face staring into their bottle. Not the kind woman who sprinkled them with water. A man's face, showing minimal empathy.
They're kind of gasping, says Sweezus.
Take them out of the bottle, says Paco.
The froglets are taken out and placed on the stone floor.
Sweezus gets out his phone, and takes a photo.
It rings.
An unknown number.
Hi! says Sweezus.
Guess what! says Terence. I'm in Hawaii. There's a swimming pool.
Cool, says Sweezus. I'm on a mountain, with frogs. Remember those tadpoles?
No, says Terence. Remember Cherry?
No, says Sweezus. (But he does)
My electronic parrot, says Terence. She fell in the swimming pool.
Bad luck dude, says Sweezus. She okay?
She forgot everything, says Terence. Even the square root of pie. And all the expressions.
The line crackles. A new voice. Pablo Vicente Maldonado.
Everything all right there? asks Pablo Vicente Maldonado. Where are you?
First refuge, says Sweezus.
How are the tadpoles? The children have been asking.
Crackle crackle.....brrr.
The call ends abruptly.
Sweezus is glad, not having wanted to answer.
Pauline enters the hut.
Wraack-ack! comes from the bottle.
Frogs? Up here? says Paco. May I ask why you've brought them?
Ask them, says Pauline.
Sweezus has entered. Arthur hasn't.
Yeah well, says Sweezus. Just keeping an eye on them for science.
They will die up here on Chimborazo, says Paco.
Maybe not, says Sweezus. They've been salted.
Ridiculous isn't it, says Pauline. These guys and their salt. They sell it.
It's not the same salt, says Sweezus.
Paco is not all that intereseted in what salt it is or isn't.
Sit, says Paco. I will prepare lentil stew. Where is the other climber?
Went to look at the tombstones, says Sweezus.
Arthur stands in a sloped boulder field, among the tombstones.
People who have died on the mountain.
He thinks of Bolívar, and how he saw Time, with scraps in his pockets.
He hears chopping, from inside the hut.
He goes inside. Paco is chopping the onions.
Estoy desolado, says Paco, but there is only one of me, and three of you. For the climb, will you mind being roped together?
Ha ha, laughs Pauline. I won't mind.
Like how close together? asks Sweezus.
Paco stirs the lentils.
Not too close, says Paco.
Wrack-ack! comes faintly from the bottle.
See to your frogs, says Paco.
Sweezus gets up.
The froglets have now absorbed their tails completely. Normally, a moment of joy.
But here they are, three quarters up Chimborazo, in a bottle, smelling nasty onions and finding their new lungs inadequate.
What room for joy?
And now here is a face staring into their bottle. Not the kind woman who sprinkled them with water. A man's face, showing minimal empathy.
They're kind of gasping, says Sweezus.
Take them out of the bottle, says Paco.
The froglets are taken out and placed on the stone floor.
Sweezus gets out his phone, and takes a photo.
It rings.
An unknown number.
Hi! says Sweezus.
Guess what! says Terence. I'm in Hawaii. There's a swimming pool.
Cool, says Sweezus. I'm on a mountain, with frogs. Remember those tadpoles?
No, says Terence. Remember Cherry?
No, says Sweezus. (But he does)
My electronic parrot, says Terence. She fell in the swimming pool.
Bad luck dude, says Sweezus. She okay?
She forgot everything, says Terence. Even the square root of pie. And all the expressions.
The line crackles. A new voice. Pablo Vicente Maldonado.
Everything all right there? asks Pablo Vicente Maldonado. Where are you?
First refuge, says Sweezus.
How are the tadpoles? The children have been asking.
Crackle crackle.....brrr.
The call ends abruptly.
Sweezus is glad, not having wanted to answer.
Monday, May 28, 2018
Spoils Of The Ages
Beautiful place Idaho, says Pauline. Esto perpetua, that's our motto.
What's that mean? asks Sweezus.
Let it be forever, says Pauline. Of course, these days it's unlikely.
She is interrupted by froglets. Wrrack-ack!
She looks into the bottle.
How do they look? asks Sweezus.
Green, trembling, says Pauline. What altitude do they normally live at?
Dunno, says Sweezus. Anyway, these frogs are different. They've had an overdose.
Overdose of what? asks Pauline.
Of pool salt, says Arthur. It either kills them or makes them grow fast. These two are survivors.
Not so sure about that, says Pauline.
The froglets are not too sure either. But they do know what altitude they like.
Not this one.
Pauline goes on.
So you guys never heard of Simón Bolívar?
Nup, says Sweezus. But I guess he climbed Chimborazo.
And wrote a visionary poem, says Pauline. Mi delirio sobre el Chimborazo.
No kidding, says Sweezus. Delirio. That's like..... what, delirium?
Yes, says Pauline. He climbed right to the summit, it affected him deeply. No human foot had been planted on that sparkling crown, placed by the hands of Eternity on the high temples...
What? says Sweezus.
I'm quoting, says Pauline. Time appears to him, looking like an old man carrying the spoils of the ages...
Arthur feels in his red waterproof pocket.
Nothing.
Shorts, suggests Sweezus.
Arthur loosens the rope holding up his red waterproof trousers, shoves his hand under the waistband and tries his shorts pocket.
Brings out a pencil (Lydia's), an old bloody bandage, and the packet of Sea Salt.
Spoils of the ages, says Arthur.
Is that the salt that the frogs overdosed on? asks Pauline
No, says Arthur. This is our Prognosticating Sea Salt. We sell it.
Pauline laughs. Then she stops laughing. One can't laugh forever.
Prognosticating! says Pauline. I don't buy that! What's it's provenance?
The sea, says Sweezus. And the Great White Teacher in Newcastle. We've had trouble with the packaging.
Great White Teacher? says Pauline.
A shark, says Sweezus. A Great White. Not a racist.
Did you ask him? says Arthur.
Well, no. But why would you? says Sweezus.
I would have, says Pauline.
By now they are within sight of the first refuge, at four thousand eight hundred metres.
There's the refuge, and beyond it a graveyard.
Paco is waiting outside.
Cielos! thinks Paco. Doble reservado de nuevo!
(looks like he's double booked again)
What's that mean? asks Sweezus.
Let it be forever, says Pauline. Of course, these days it's unlikely.
She is interrupted by froglets. Wrrack-ack!
She looks into the bottle.
How do they look? asks Sweezus.
Green, trembling, says Pauline. What altitude do they normally live at?
Dunno, says Sweezus. Anyway, these frogs are different. They've had an overdose.
Overdose of what? asks Pauline.
Of pool salt, says Arthur. It either kills them or makes them grow fast. These two are survivors.
Not so sure about that, says Pauline.
The froglets are not too sure either. But they do know what altitude they like.
Not this one.
Pauline goes on.
So you guys never heard of Simón Bolívar?
Nup, says Sweezus. But I guess he climbed Chimborazo.
And wrote a visionary poem, says Pauline. Mi delirio sobre el Chimborazo.
No kidding, says Sweezus. Delirio. That's like..... what, delirium?
Yes, says Pauline. He climbed right to the summit, it affected him deeply. No human foot had been planted on that sparkling crown, placed by the hands of Eternity on the high temples...
What? says Sweezus.
I'm quoting, says Pauline. Time appears to him, looking like an old man carrying the spoils of the ages...
Arthur feels in his red waterproof pocket.
Nothing.
Shorts, suggests Sweezus.
Arthur loosens the rope holding up his red waterproof trousers, shoves his hand under the waistband and tries his shorts pocket.
Brings out a pencil (Lydia's), an old bloody bandage, and the packet of Sea Salt.
Spoils of the ages, says Arthur.
Is that the salt that the frogs overdosed on? asks Pauline
No, says Arthur. This is our Prognosticating Sea Salt. We sell it.
Pauline laughs. Then she stops laughing. One can't laugh forever.
Prognosticating! says Pauline. I don't buy that! What's it's provenance?
The sea, says Sweezus. And the Great White Teacher in Newcastle. We've had trouble with the packaging.
Great White Teacher? says Pauline.
A shark, says Sweezus. A Great White. Not a racist.
Did you ask him? says Arthur.
Well, no. But why would you? says Sweezus.
I would have, says Pauline.
By now they are within sight of the first refuge, at four thousand eight hundred metres.
There's the refuge, and beyond it a graveyard.
Paco is waiting outside.
Cielos! thinks Paco. Doble reservado de nuevo!
(looks like he's double booked again)
Sunday, May 27, 2018
We've Bonded
You're not going to leave them? says the fellow climber.
Err, no, says Sweezus. Maybe we shouldn't.
I hear a stream babbling, says the fellow climber. Let us pick them up and drop them in there.
We have to get going, says Arthur.
The fellow climber gives him a hard stare.
Arthur scoops up seventeen dead tadpoles, stuffs them in his pockets, and saunters across to the tiny stream where he ditches the tadpoles.
He returns.
If the bottle wasn't cut we could've filled it with water, says Arthur.
He gives her a hard stare.
Don't tell me you've come without water, says the fellow climber. You'll be sorry.
Sweezus picks up the cut bottle. It's still a container of sorts. Just got no lid on. And there's two fat frogs in it. Shit.
Give them here, says the fellow climber. These two are froglets. They've sprouted legs and started absorbing their tails. And of course, they are breathing using their lungs. Hello, little fellows.
The two froglets ignore her. They have more pressing problems.
I'm Pauline, says the fellow climber. We seem to have bonded. Shall we go up together?
It's not like they're going to answer, says Sweezus.
I was talking to you, says Pauline.
We've bonded? says Sweezus. Yeah well, we're going straight up. You're probably taking the road.
I'm not, says Pauline. We shall go up together. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to. And I have water. Also, a number of sandwiches.
Okay, says Sweezus. Let's go.
They start up Chimborazo.
Pauline is from Idaho. She likes talking.
Since my husband died, says Pauline, I've taken up climbing. I used to be a property manager. Good at it too. Always check the ceiling fans. That was my motto. Anyway, Cedric hated climbing. Hated poetry. I love poetry. Especially the exalted sort. That's why I chose Chimborazo.....
Arthur's a poet, says Sweezus.
Really, says Pauline. What about you?
Creative, says Sweezus. But not a poet. Arthur's like really awesome at poetry. He can...
Do you know Chimborazo? asks Pauline. I mean Chimborazo the poem. Written by Simón Bolívar? That's what inspired me.
Never heard of him, says Sweezus. No wait yeah, I have. Or....no. Bolivar's a water sewage treatment works north of Adelaide. That might be what....
Arthur smirks. The poetry discussion is not going all that well.
He decides to bring the conversation round to the sandwiches, by a roundabout method.
How are the froglets going? asks Arthur.
Pauline is carrying the cut bottle under one arm. She stops and looks in at the froglets.
They look a bit dry, says Pauline. I'll just sprinkle them with some water.
She stops and takes a water bottle from her backpack. Anyone like a sandwich?
Bit early, says Sweezus.
Never too early, says Pauline. These are cheese and pickle. These are sardine.
Arthur has a cheese and pickle. Sweezus has a sardine.
Pauline, chewing on a pickle, looks up at the snow covered summit.
Enveloped in the cloak of Iris I came... says Pauline.
Sweezus rolls his eyes at Arthur, but Arthur doesn't mind it.
Err, no, says Sweezus. Maybe we shouldn't.
I hear a stream babbling, says the fellow climber. Let us pick them up and drop them in there.
We have to get going, says Arthur.
The fellow climber gives him a hard stare.
Arthur scoops up seventeen dead tadpoles, stuffs them in his pockets, and saunters across to the tiny stream where he ditches the tadpoles.
He returns.
If the bottle wasn't cut we could've filled it with water, says Arthur.
He gives her a hard stare.
Don't tell me you've come without water, says the fellow climber. You'll be sorry.
Sweezus picks up the cut bottle. It's still a container of sorts. Just got no lid on. And there's two fat frogs in it. Shit.
Give them here, says the fellow climber. These two are froglets. They've sprouted legs and started absorbing their tails. And of course, they are breathing using their lungs. Hello, little fellows.
The two froglets ignore her. They have more pressing problems.
I'm Pauline, says the fellow climber. We seem to have bonded. Shall we go up together?
It's not like they're going to answer, says Sweezus.
I was talking to you, says Pauline.
We've bonded? says Sweezus. Yeah well, we're going straight up. You're probably taking the road.
I'm not, says Pauline. We shall go up together. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to. And I have water. Also, a number of sandwiches.
Okay, says Sweezus. Let's go.
They start up Chimborazo.
Pauline is from Idaho. She likes talking.
Since my husband died, says Pauline, I've taken up climbing. I used to be a property manager. Good at it too. Always check the ceiling fans. That was my motto. Anyway, Cedric hated climbing. Hated poetry. I love poetry. Especially the exalted sort. That's why I chose Chimborazo.....
Arthur's a poet, says Sweezus.
Really, says Pauline. What about you?
Creative, says Sweezus. But not a poet. Arthur's like really awesome at poetry. He can...
Do you know Chimborazo? asks Pauline. I mean Chimborazo the poem. Written by Simón Bolívar? That's what inspired me.
Never heard of him, says Sweezus. No wait yeah, I have. Or....no. Bolivar's a water sewage treatment works north of Adelaide. That might be what....
Arthur smirks. The poetry discussion is not going all that well.
He decides to bring the conversation round to the sandwiches, by a roundabout method.
How are the froglets going? asks Arthur.
Pauline is carrying the cut bottle under one arm. She stops and looks in at the froglets.
They look a bit dry, says Pauline. I'll just sprinkle them with some water.
She stops and takes a water bottle from her backpack. Anyone like a sandwich?
Bit early, says Sweezus.
Never too early, says Pauline. These are cheese and pickle. These are sardine.
Arthur has a cheese and pickle. Sweezus has a sardine.
Pauline, chewing on a pickle, looks up at the snow covered summit.
Enveloped in the cloak of Iris I came... says Pauline.
Sweezus rolls his eyes at Arthur, but Arthur doesn't mind it.
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Straight Up
Chimborazo entrance! says the bus driver.
This is where Arthur and Sweezus get off.
They gather their ice picks, helmets and crampons.
Gaius follows them to the door of the bus.
Do you have room for one bottle of tadpoles? asks Gaius.
Yeah, we do, says Sweezus. We forgot to bring water.
And snacks, says Arthur.
Ha ha, laughs Gaius. Don't drink the tadpoles.
As if, says Sweezus. Anyway, how come?
Simon fears they will soon be too large to come out through the neck of the bottle, says Gaius. We were wondering if, on your way up the mountain, you might drop a few off in a stream. Make a note of their location, and check on their progress when you return.
Why can't you guys do it? asks Sweezus.
We shall be monitoring the tadpoles in the second bottle, says Gaius.
Okay, says Sweezus. Okay, dude?
Sure, says Arthur. Why not?
The bus rumbles off towards Guaranda.
Did they take it? asks Simon. Did they agree to make notes?
Yes, says Gaius. We can rely on them. At least, Arthur. Dear me, I hope Arthur has a pencil.
He still has mine, says Lydia.
........
Sweezus and Arthur have arranged to meet Paco their guide at the first refuge, to save hiring a taxi.
It's a three hour hike if they follow the road.
An hour and a half if they go straight up the mountain.
What do you reckon? asks Sweezus. Straight up?
Straight up, says Arthur. First let's ditch the tadpoles.
Sweezus looks around for a stream.
Just ditch them, says Arthur. We can say they all died.
It is fortunate that the tadpoles can't hear through the plastic Marzano bottle.
Sweezus twists the lid off the bottle. Upturns it, A few drops of water drip out.
Fuck, says Sweezus. They're stuck in the bottle.
If we get them out, says Arthur, we can use the bottle for water.
Awesome, dude, says Sweezus. But how do we do it?
Poke them out with a stick, says Arthur.
What stick? asks Sweezus.
Arthur feels in his pocket.
I couldn't help overhearing, says a fellow climber who has also got off the bus. Would you like some assistance? I have a knife.
The fellow climber, a stout woman, whips her knife out, and takes hold of the bottle.
She makes a neat cut in the part where the bottle widens out.
And tips the tadpoles onto the footpath.
You could probably rescue one or two of them, says the woman. Look, these ones have legs.
It's true. Some of the tadpoles have almost turned into Riobamban marsupial tree frogs.
Sweezus gets his phone out, and takes a photo.
It's a good outcome, except for the cut in the bottle .
This is where Arthur and Sweezus get off.
They gather their ice picks, helmets and crampons.
Gaius follows them to the door of the bus.
Do you have room for one bottle of tadpoles? asks Gaius.
Yeah, we do, says Sweezus. We forgot to bring water.
And snacks, says Arthur.
Ha ha, laughs Gaius. Don't drink the tadpoles.
As if, says Sweezus. Anyway, how come?
Simon fears they will soon be too large to come out through the neck of the bottle, says Gaius. We were wondering if, on your way up the mountain, you might drop a few off in a stream. Make a note of their location, and check on their progress when you return.
Why can't you guys do it? asks Sweezus.
We shall be monitoring the tadpoles in the second bottle, says Gaius.
Okay, says Sweezus. Okay, dude?
Sure, says Arthur. Why not?
The bus rumbles off towards Guaranda.
Did they take it? asks Simon. Did they agree to make notes?
Yes, says Gaius. We can rely on them. At least, Arthur. Dear me, I hope Arthur has a pencil.
He still has mine, says Lydia.
........
Sweezus and Arthur have arranged to meet Paco their guide at the first refuge, to save hiring a taxi.
It's a three hour hike if they follow the road.
An hour and a half if they go straight up the mountain.
What do you reckon? asks Sweezus. Straight up?
Straight up, says Arthur. First let's ditch the tadpoles.
Sweezus looks around for a stream.
Just ditch them, says Arthur. We can say they all died.
It is fortunate that the tadpoles can't hear through the plastic Marzano bottle.
Sweezus twists the lid off the bottle. Upturns it, A few drops of water drip out.
Fuck, says Sweezus. They're stuck in the bottle.
If we get them out, says Arthur, we can use the bottle for water.
Awesome, dude, says Sweezus. But how do we do it?
Poke them out with a stick, says Arthur.
What stick? asks Sweezus.
Arthur feels in his pocket.
I couldn't help overhearing, says a fellow climber who has also got off the bus. Would you like some assistance? I have a knife.
The fellow climber, a stout woman, whips her knife out, and takes hold of the bottle.
She makes a neat cut in the part where the bottle widens out.
And tips the tadpoles onto the footpath.
You could probably rescue one or two of them, says the woman. Look, these ones have legs.
It's true. Some of the tadpoles have almost turned into Riobamban marsupial tree frogs.
Sweezus gets his phone out, and takes a photo.
It's a good outcome, except for the cut in the bottle .
Friday, May 25, 2018
Not Meaning Nothing
Here he is, a young oystercatcher, orphaned and brotherless, far from his birthplace in Brittany, on a bus to Chimborazo, beside a guinea pig who now has no need of his comforts.
Saint Roley is glum.
He looks through the window at a blue patch of sky, and the summit of Chimborazo in the distance.
Here we are, says Gaius. Sit here, girls. Talk to Saint Roley.
The child and her sister sit down.
I'll just go and check on the tadpoles, says Gaius. Saint Roley, these girls are interested in our mission.
Krvee! says Saint Roley.
He's sad, says the child to her sister.
He's sulking, says Princess Pacchu. Talk to me. I'm team leader.
Saint Roley can't believe what he's hearing. She's not team leader.
I heard, says the child's sister. You know the landscape. Do you live here?
Not here, says Princess Pacchu, I live on a steep farm across the valley from Devil's Nose.
So how can you be team leader? asks the child.
They're all similar, the slopes of volcanoes, says Princess Pacchu.
Krvee! says Saint Roley
Where will you leave the tadpoles? asks the child's sister.
In a glacial creek, says Princess Pacchu.
Won't it be freezing? asks the child's sister. What if they die?
They are robust tadpoles, says Princess Pacchu. Didn't you see them?
Yes, they saw them squeezed into two bottles of Marzano.
Why do they have to move to the slopes of a volcano? asks the child. What's wrong with their own home?
Nothing, says Princess Pacchu.
Nothing!
She is clearly ill-equipped to be the team leader.
Saint Roley stops feeling peevish.
Everything, says Saint Roley. Development is shrinking their habitat. And they are prone to chitridiomycosis. To relieve their condition, our team has brought pool salt, from Newcastle.
Why did the guinea pig say Nothing? asks the child's sister.
She didn't mean Nothing, says Saint Roley. She just didn't finish the sentence. She is new to the role of team leader. It's a role we have given her to cheer her up since she witnessed her fellow guinea pigs being eaten at the dinner table of Pedro Vicente Maldonado, back in Riobamba.
Wow! says the child's sister. He's famous.
That is not the point, says Saint Roley. She was devastated. I understood. I comforted her, but she has surpassed me in the art of recovery.
I did mean Nothing, says Princess Pacchu. But I see I was wrong. Saint Roley knows more than I do. And I had forgotten why I love him. It is good to be reminded of the terrible things we have seen and put behind us.
You love me? says Saint Roley.
Oops! says Princess Pacchu,
The bus stops suddenly.
Saint Roley is glum.
He looks through the window at a blue patch of sky, and the summit of Chimborazo in the distance.
Here we are, says Gaius. Sit here, girls. Talk to Saint Roley.
The child and her sister sit down.
I'll just go and check on the tadpoles, says Gaius. Saint Roley, these girls are interested in our mission.
Krvee! says Saint Roley.
He's sad, says the child to her sister.
He's sulking, says Princess Pacchu. Talk to me. I'm team leader.
Saint Roley can't believe what he's hearing. She's not team leader.
I heard, says the child's sister. You know the landscape. Do you live here?
Not here, says Princess Pacchu, I live on a steep farm across the valley from Devil's Nose.
So how can you be team leader? asks the child.
They're all similar, the slopes of volcanoes, says Princess Pacchu.
Krvee! says Saint Roley
Where will you leave the tadpoles? asks the child's sister.
In a glacial creek, says Princess Pacchu.
Won't it be freezing? asks the child's sister. What if they die?
They are robust tadpoles, says Princess Pacchu. Didn't you see them?
Yes, they saw them squeezed into two bottles of Marzano.
Why do they have to move to the slopes of a volcano? asks the child. What's wrong with their own home?
Nothing, says Princess Pacchu.
Nothing!
She is clearly ill-equipped to be the team leader.
Saint Roley stops feeling peevish.
Everything, says Saint Roley. Development is shrinking their habitat. And they are prone to chitridiomycosis. To relieve their condition, our team has brought pool salt, from Newcastle.
Why did the guinea pig say Nothing? asks the child's sister.
She didn't mean Nothing, says Saint Roley. She just didn't finish the sentence. She is new to the role of team leader. It's a role we have given her to cheer her up since she witnessed her fellow guinea pigs being eaten at the dinner table of Pedro Vicente Maldonado, back in Riobamba.
Wow! says the child's sister. He's famous.
That is not the point, says Saint Roley. She was devastated. I understood. I comforted her, but she has surpassed me in the art of recovery.
I did mean Nothing, says Princess Pacchu. But I see I was wrong. Saint Roley knows more than I do. And I had forgotten why I love him. It is good to be reminded of the terrible things we have seen and put behind us.
You love me? says Saint Roley.
Oops! says Princess Pacchu,
The bus stops suddenly.
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