Light At The End | Book 3 | Dark To Light

by Benson, Tom

  Flint said, “The wildlife sanctuary a few miles from our mountain had a big collection of birds of prey so it wouldn’t surprise me if it came from there.”

  “It’s magnificent,” Josh said, “obviously not as handsome as our native golden eagle, but a great sighting nevertheless.”

  The others laughed, and when the big bird lifted higher on the thermals and left the area, the team headed down the track. Josh led, while Flint guided the trailer. Quincy and Glen held the rope at the back to control the trailer’s descent.

  As expected, the journey downhill and back to a regular road surface took longer and was more difficult than going up. Flint and Josh took over towing duties to give Quincy and Glen a break from the job and though stopping for breaks, the team made good time on the way home.

  After the evening meal and the children were put to bed, the whole group got together for a discussion.

  Sandy said, “I think we’ve done rather well over the past couple of days. We have two of the relay units and all the ancillary equipment. Thanks to you guys we’ve got a couple of small craft for ferrying the equipment closer to where it’s going to be needed.”

  “Don’t we need a third relay?” Emma said.

  “No,” Sandy said, “but I suppose it would be handy to locate it and bring it here.”

  “There’s no rush,” Flint said, “and although reaching the second one was a tougher job than the first one, we know from the map that the third one is even harder to reach.”

  Amber said, “I know we’re not in a hurry, but how about a team staying out overnight if necessary to locate and bring in the third relay?”

  Flint nodded, “That might be the best option—go out to the location on the first day, and then either dismantle the equipment on arrival or wait until morning. Yes, that sounds good. Get the main job done, have an early breakfast and set off back here at an easy pace.”

  Imogen said, “One relay is destined for Dalwhinnie, but where is the other one going?”

  “Achallader,” Flint said. “You might not recall the place name because our people tend to refer to it as the signal box.”

  “Of course, we were told about it—the little tower at the side of the railway track. Is there nothing left of the town?”

  “Not really,” Sandy said. “The electrical sub-station is sited on a high bank not far from the railway track and from what we could see most of the town’s buildings are underwater. The few still on dry land are on a couple of small streets which are on the far side.”

  “What do you mean by the far side?”

  “The surviving houses are on the other side of the flood water about a mile away from the railway track. We assume that a couple of streets on the higher ground survived. When it’s dark, the street lighting still works in that area.”

  Sandy and Flint described the three villages not far from Auchcarn which had been swamped by Loch Awe’s expansion. It was more of a reminder because the first team had explained about those places.

  Emma said, “What do we have to consider next?”

  “Fortunately,” Sandy said, “you guys have rescued a couple of boats. It means instead of trying to carry the relay equipment overland we could examine how best to get it close to our selected sites by boat.”

  Imogen said, “Do you really think we could get to the two locations by boat?”

  “Let me show you something.” Sandy spread his map over the table. “You’ll see areas around some of the waterways which have long diagonal lines drawn in by me—those shaded sections show how far the water has swamped the land.”

  “You haven’t shown those lines all the way down,” Josh said.

  “That’s because we haven’t mapped the whole route in detail. Some of those areas were seen and drawn on by Bill. We added a couple on our way here.” Sandy used a pencil to point out a particular part. “Here, for example, is where the River Spey is several miles downstream from Aviemore—and it swells Loch Laggan.”

  Emma nodded. “I see what you’re getting at—how far is it to Dalwhinnie from where the edge of that loch now reaches?’

  “About five miles across undulating countryside, which isn’t too far.”

  Josh said, “Are you sure that there is now a waterway which goes from here all the way to Loch Awe—at the foot of your mountain?”

  “Yes, mate,” Sandy moved his pencil down. “Here is what we think are Loch Tulla and Loch Na Allaise—they are only about a mile from Achallader.”

  Quincy said, “The signal box on the railway?”

  Sandy nodded. “You see, all we have to do is try to work out our position from the water by looking at the high ground on either side.”

  “Which is easier said than done,” Flint said. “We’d have to weigh up our options before planning to move any equipment by boat.”

  Glen leant forward to get a better look at the map. “Surely we’d just load up a set of relay equipment onto a boat and then either row or sail it down there and find a place to go ashore?”

  “It’s not that simple,” Flint said. “Remember we’re not dealing with regular lochs and rivers here—the waterways are all swollen, and some villages are submerged. You could easily sail over a church spire and tear a hole in the boat’s hull, or run aground and be unable to get the craft free.”

  “The kayaks,” Amber said. “Kayaks would be capable of going anywhere. If we were to take our time with the idea of re-siting the relays—you guys have experience and could mark the way for us.”

  Flint turned to Sandy. “That sounds like a plan, doesn’t it, mate?”

  “It does indeed,” Sandy said and smiled at Amber. “How much work have you got to do on the sails for your dinghies?”

  “Quite a bit,” Amber said and turned to Imogen with raised eyebrows.

  Imogen said, “The best ones we could find were pretty badly damaged. It would probably take us about another week of steady work to make them serviceable.”

  “Okay,” Sandy said, “I’ve got an idea. It will be unusual for my mate or me here not to be tactical—in fact, the task calls for being the exact opposite.” Sandy went on to explain his basic plan and asked for input from anyone who had ideas.

  The discussion involved everyone and ideas started coming thick and fast. A plan was formed and amended again and again until all were satisfied.

  .

  Monday 22nd August

  Flint, Imogen, Amber, Emma and Quincy went on an early morning visit to Aviemore. They were going to locate a few items which the group had listed on the previous evening while hammering out the details of Operation Land Marks. Flint and Imogen went to the outdoor store with a shopping list, while Emma, Amber and Quincy went to the police station to make copies of Sandy’s map. It was decided that although the group at the farm had a map, it would be a good idea to have copies of the same one as Sandy—amended to show new waterways.

  On return to the farm, while some of the useful materials were prepared by the others, Flint and Imogen packed what they’d need for their day away. They’d be stripping down for the day ahead.

  At ten o’clock, the pair on the mission set out from the boat shed in the two kayaks. Flint led the way dressed in a T-shirt, swimming trunks and his new training shoes. A map in a waterproof pouch was taped down in front of him on the mid-deck section. The cockpit at the front was packed with his bergen, which contained his combat uniform and a few other items.

  Imogen, like Flint, was dressed in a T-shirt, swimming costume and training shoes. The front cockpit of her kayak contained thermos flasks and snacks in watertight containers. Strangely, Imogen was the only one of the Aviemore group with kayaking experience. It would have been good for Sandy to have gone with Flint, but they didn’t want to break the promise that a capable Auchcarn person would be around for a while. As Sandy had quietly pointed out to Flint, it was healthy to involve a member of the local team in the task.

  Quincy, Amber and Emma waved their friends off and then watched for
a few minutes until they disappeared in a steady beat of their paddles. The three-person escort returned to the farm.

  The River Spey wasn’t flowing fast but after waving farewell at the boat shed it took very few strokes before the two kayaks were moving at a brisk pace downstream. They paddled abreast of each other so that they could discuss anything of interest along the way.

  “I know we’re not out here for fun,” Imogen said, “but this is quite exciting.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with feeling that we’re on an adventure, as long as we do our job.”

  “I know you said we should look for landmarks or recognition features, but I’m not sure what we ought to consider as a landmark from down here on the water.”

  “It could be anything, from a large or peculiar looking tree to a small inlet or perhaps something we can see farther back on one of the banks. Our first concern on this trip is navigation, so, for example, if there is a fork we ought to go left—in a southerly direction.”

  “Do you think there’s much chance of that happening?”

  “It might because although the River Spey has swollen, remember, it now also runs into several lochs, swelling them in size as the waterways amalgamate.”

  “How often do you think we should use our ribbons?”

  “As Sandy suggested last night, instead of waiting for long periods, we ought to use them regularly, not sparingly—that’s why we made so many.”

  “Yes, I recall you saying they’d be as important for us as a guide on our return journey.”

  “While we’re on the subject, about one hundred metres ahead is a good place for our first one.”

  “The big tree with the overhanging branch?”

  “Yes, and there you go—you’ve recognised a landmark.” Flint steered closer to the left bank. “If you back-paddle while I tie off our marker it’ll save us becoming separated.”

  “How about getting in behind you and cutting off some of the current to your kayak?”

  “Great—okay, here we go.” Flint placed his paddle across the front of his cockpit and reached forward to pull free one of the bright strips of fluorescent material they’d be using as flags. “I’ll use yellow for this one, so next time we’ll use pink.” He reached up and attached the material so that it hung like a broad, bright ribbon, lifting gently in the breeze.

  “Wow, that is effective.” Imogen eased away from behind Flint’s kayak, and they set off side by side again. She glanced back. “Yes, I think we’ll see that from quite a distance.”

  “Now that you’ve seen it in action, I’d like you to suggest the next one.”

  “Okay, I’m already looking.”

  They paddled along slowly, the pair of them looking at both banks. It was half a mile later before anything suitable came into view.

  “Up ahead on the left,” Imogen said. “It looks very straight and rigid like the top of a flagpole sticking up out of the water.”

  “Seen,” Flint said, “and that’s a good call. I’ll have to be careful on my approach to this one because it could be anything under there, but he pole looks pretty damn straight—it’s not natural.” He slowed as he got near and then grabbed the pole. At least a metre was showing above the surface of the water. “It’s solid enough, and it is a flag pole.”

  “What do you think it could be attached to?”

  “I can see something not far under the surface—it’s a filling station because there’s a big sign with a logo on it.” Flint selected a length of pink fluorescent material and reached up to tie it to the top of the pole. He tied a strip of green below the pink. Yellow or pink were to be general navigation guides, but green indicated a hazard. “How many shirts did we take from the sports shop to cut up?”

  “I think we stopped at about twenty-five—ten yellow, ten pink and five green. It seems wrong to have chopped such great sportswear into strips, but I suppose we have to constantly adapt.”

  Flint half-turned and nodded. “Imogen, as long as you remember how important it is to adapt, you’ll be fine. Always remind yourself that this is a new world that we live in, and anything goes if it helps us.” He gave the two strips a tug to check they were secure, and then he lifted his paddle and set off alongside his companion. “In the military, we used to have this saying, ‘adapt and overcome’, and it’s still true.”

  By the time they’d gone ten miles along the river, they could glance back and see more than one bright ribbon fluttering in the breeze—the idea was working. To keep her involved, Flint asked Imogen’s opinion of each spot he considered for flagging-up. Twenty miles from Aviemore was when things changed.

  “Flint, the river is getting really wide now.”

  “Judging from the few hills and the forestry I can see I think we’re about to enter Loch Laggan.”

  “There’s a low branch on the left which would be a good marker to register the start of the loch.”

  “Seen.” Flint was already steering in the direction of the tree.

  Five minutes later, they were on the way again, and Flint suggested paddling farther into the middle of the loch away from the bank.

  “How will it help to be paddling out here so far from the bank?” Imogen was genuinely puzzled.

  “If we’re out here, we’ll have a better chance of seeing any features on either bank, and it will only take me a couple of minutes to get back over and tie off a ribbon.”

  “How will we know when we’re close to Dalwhinnie?”

  “If you cast your mind back to last night, we’ve got a couple of features which ought to come pretty close together, but the best indicator will be the main track on a stretch of high banking.”

  “How can we be sure it will stand out?”

  “The contours on that section of the map are close together which means it’s steep and therefore wouldn’t be flooded. That’s why we should see the track, and being on a long section of high banking will simply be a confirmation.”

  “We’re not going to see Dalwhinnie or the station from the water then?”

  “No, Dalwhinnie is about five miles east from where we’ll go ashore.”

  Again for a short while, they paddled on in silence.

  “There, Flint—the steep track, and right after is a big patch of fir trees.”

  “Well done.” Flint grinned, happy that he’d let Imogen make the sighting. It was good for her confidence. She probably wouldn’t have realised that he’d been leading them closer to the bank for the past ten minutes.

  Flint reached the bank and drifted his craft side-on to the sand. He rested his paddle across the bulkhead and placed one blade on the sand before climbing out. He glanced back to see Imogen mimic his landing and get out to stand beside her kayak.

  Fifteen minutes after landing, the two explorers were changed into suitable outfits with boots ready for the inland phase. Before leaving the landing area, Flint tied a pair of bright yellow ribbons to a nearby tree, and then a few metres away he tied another pair. Like Imogen, he strapped on his backpack.

  Flint pulled out the radio.

  “Hello Eagle’s Nest, this is Flint, radio check, over.”

  “Flint. Strength five, over.” Sandy’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Likewise this end. Craft secured in our preferred landing zone. and we’re ready to trek, over.”

  “Roger, mate—call when you arrive, over.”

  “Roger, out.”

  “That was some climb,” Imogen said, “and it didn’t look that long from down at the water’s edge.”

  “It’s probably only about two or three hundred metres, but it’s steep so it’ll be worth remembering when we’ve got people bringing equipment here.”

  “I don’t suppose it will be a straightforward walk along this track to Dalwhinnie?”

  “We should be so lucky,” Flint laughed. “No, my friend, it won’t be. Even if there are some minor tracks they’ll be overgrown, so my intention is to set a compass bearing for Dalwhinnie Station. Then we try to s
tay true to the direction but take the easiest route available. It looks like we have a couple of hills to skirt around to the left. Two important things to remember are that we have to find our way back to the kayaks again, and the next time someone comes along here, they will be carrying equipment.”

  “Ah, that’s why we’ve brought a load of ribbons to use as we head for the station?”

  “Yes, but this time, we only use one colour—yellow, all the way there. Green ribbons can be used if we want to highlight a spot, or pink just for us to check out a particular route on the way. Remember, it doesn’t matter how long it takes to get there—the important aspect is that it’s easy to make the journey.”

  Half an hour into the trek, they reached the first hill and Flint led the way to the left but still monitoring the bearing. At the second hill, he suggested that they climb it to have a look around. It took half an hour to reach the top, but it was worth the effort.

  “I see the station, Flint—look.” Imogen pointed towards a prominent long building with a black roof. Beyond the station were the multiple roofs of the village of Dalwhinnie.

  “I reckon we have about a mile and a half to go, so while we’re up here, you tie a pink ribbon to one of those bushes, and I’ll make a note of where to create the route around this hill.”

  At one o’clock in the afternoon, Flint pulled out the radio.

  “Hello, Eagle’s Nest this is Flint—now at Dalwhinnie, over.”

  Sandy’s voice was loud and clear. “Good timing by you guys. All okay, over?”

  “Yes, we’re about to have a lunch break and then take a look around. Will call again before leaving, over.”

  “Roger, out.”

  Imogen sat looking around the small cafe after she’d poured them both hot tea from the thermos. “This place looks to be in reasonable condition. Is this where you and Sandy stopped for a while on one of your nights?”

  “Yes, and because we were able to secure the doors, we got a proper sleep for a few hours.”

  “I remember Victoria saying how good it was to get off the improvised stretcher here and sit on a comfortable cushioned seat.”