So I decided to use a timed writing session to write a continuation of one of my previous unfinished Frantic Writing pieces. Well, because it’s timed, part two is also unfinished, so I’ll probably try a part three at some future time and see how far I get.
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Here’s a link to I Found a Bag (Part 1). The last couple of lines from Part One were:
“The thick plastic did not yield easily but eventually I had the top open.
Inside, was….”
Inside was…. not a thing that would normally be contained in a trash bag, since this turned out to not be, after all, a trash bag. Rather the strong plastic (rubber really, almost like a thick bicycle tire) was simply a protective cover for some kind of a hatch built into a concrete housing that sat at the edge of this reedy area. I spread out the cut away sides of the covering and contemplated a steel wheel that sat atop the hatch.
A strange turn to a day of pleasant hiking. Surely, this area was not widely visited, not being part of any trails but simply a grassy field next to a now dry stream. I supposed the grasses would normally have concealed the hatch and its covering but they had been somewhat flattened by the spring flood, exposing the hatch and its covering.
But what was it - was there a storm sewer, a floodwater sluice, or some sort of other mechanical works buried in this remote spot?
The nearest roadway was kilometers from here, the nearest power line, telephone line, microwave towers were also far distant, so it seemed a strange place to find any sign of city works, assuming this was part of a sewage or utility line. A curious find indeed.
I sat down on the concrete edge of the hatch’s housing, and in the pleasant warmth of the day unwrapped and ate a sandwich I had packed. I leaned back on my elbows and stretched out my legs to better catch the heat of the sun. And once done, I turned and gripped the wheel and tested it to see if it would budge. It moved not an inch, as if it was frozen in place or welded shut.
I applied greater force…but nothing, not even a squeak of movement. Standing back I noticed a small handle like a lever a few inches long embedded in the concrete near the central pivot of the wheel. I reached through the thick steel spokes and twisted the handle away from me - nothing. Then I pulled towards me and felt a slight movement. Grasping it with two hands, I tugged with all my strength and it slowly rotated with a horrendous squeak to ninety degrees from its initial position. Possibly, it was a lock/unlock mechanism.
Now, I applied my effort to the wheel once again, and this time it began a slow stuttering turn clockwise. I kept turning it inch by slow inch until it had twice rotated a full 360 degrees and then would turn no more.
I stood, and why I do not know, glanced around furtively, guiltily, I suppose because of a fear I was encroaching on some city property I had no business disturbing - like a vandal. Then I lifted the wheel and the hatch, groaning noisily, came up with it, heavier than any manhole cover until it stood open and the upper portion of a ladder into its depths was visible. I peered inside and the shaft looked clean and dry, untouched by spring floods and the debris that they carried that must have swept over this area.
Now what? Just how “adventurous” should I be. Should I close this up and leave to return at some future date to explore further when I had the free time. But that may be a long, long while, I thought, as my upcoming work deadlines came to mind. Even getting the time for today’s outing was not easy.
I glanced around at the gentle hills surrounding this beautiful valley, all of it glowing golden in the afternoon sun. The scene was so idyllic, so calming, and I was in such a relaxed state hiking through this peaceful landscape, that perhaps my judgement was somewhat affected. And with the sunlight glinting off the steel of the upper rungs of the ladder, the vertical shaft did not seem terribly intimidating.
And so, swinging my small rucksack onto my back, I lowered my legs into the opening and onto the ladder’s rungs and started downwards to see where this isolated entrance led.
Why do we sometimes make such decisions and judgements. Is it a longing for adventure that is absent in our daily lives, is it a natural curiosity combined with the inability to imagine personal danger caused by our own actions, or the fact that we have lived a life free of truly perilous circumstances and so go innocently into potentially hazardous situations? I don’t know what drove me that day, but I do recall that I had no sense of caution or worry as I step by step lowered myself into a darkness where the sun could not reach.