@PixyNez looked down at the two large bags and the sleeping bag in it's compression bag sat on top. She was sure she had everything. Pretty sure. She pulled out her checklist scanned the neat ticks.
No gaps.
She pulled the door to her student flat shut, trying the handle even though she had heard the latch click.
"Sorry." Nez apologised as she squeezed past another student in the stairwell. It was raining outside. Not an auspicious start. Or maybe it was, considering their destination.
The minibus was where it was supposed to be.
"Yoh! Nez!" A strong Welsh accent called out.
"Dean." Nez awkwardly climbed in the side door and stowed her gear with the other baggage taking up the back seats. A twin axle box trailer was hooked onto the back of the minibus, festooned with warning signs for compressed gas.
They had the oxygen, the other minibus had the petrol and butane. Debbie arrived with four large bags. Nez raised an eyebrow.
"You know we are only away for four weeks Debs?"
"A girl needs her clubbing gear…"
Nez opened her mouth to reply, decided it was pointless. She fished in her small backpack that usually housed her school books, for her noise cancelling headphones.
"Everyone here?" Margaret asked as she did a headcount. "Shut the door Dean." Margaret was another one of the faculty staff. Normally she was one of the kitchen staff during term, but doubled as an official first aider and chef for field trips longer than a couple of days. Another faculty member, Mathew, would be the second driver of the other minibus. Mathew was part of the engineering department and would be in charge of anything mechanical and was also their drone pilot.
Dean slid the side door shut. As Margaret started the engine. They drove round to the other accommodation block where the other minibus with its box trailer was sat. Keeping Margaret company and spelling the driving, was assistant lecturer Lucy-Anne.
Professor Leon poked his head in, ticked off the names on his clipboard. "We good?"
Nez gave him a thumbs up as the others grunted or nodded.
The journey up the M40 was slow. The minibuses were restricted to fifty miles per hour by University policy. Fully laden articulated lorries thundered past them in the middle lane, causing the minibuses and their trailers to sway and snake a little.
"Och aye the noo Jimmy!" Dean shouted out loudly as they passed the signs welcoming them to Scotland. Nez managed to get an only slightly blurry picture of the sign as they passed. The scenery outside didn't appear to have changed much. Nez wasn't sure what she had been expecting. Technically, this was the first time she had left her home country of England and had thought that it might have been more... momentous… She put the compact camera away and closed her eyes as Ariana Grande sang into her ears.
*****
The traffic was heavy but still moving, keeping pace with the two minibuses. The make up of the traffic had changed. A lot more camper vans and vehicles with foreign number plates. The Tesco and Asda lorries were the same, but there were other varieties that she had not seen before.
A lot of tankers with the logos of whisky companies. One for shortbread, several refrigerated ones with images of fish on the outside. A timber lorry was slowly creeping passed them. Nez slid the window open, curious as to whether or not she would smell anything. Diesel fumes and then a strong smell of pine. She took in a deep breath, savouring it. The smell lingered even after the timber lorry had pulled ahead. Nez slid the window shut.
The radio in the minibus was playing Radio Two, but everyone in the back had headphones on, listening to their own poison. The minibus slowed, pulling off onto a slip road and slowing for a roundabout. They took an exit and pulled into a service station.
They all piled out and headed towards the main building. Some faster than others. The toilets were busy, many different accents and languages. Not too dissimilar to Oxford street in London. Hopefully with less pickpockets.
There was a shop that only seemed to sell produce that was wrapped in tartan. If it wasn't in tartan it was in blue and white, the colour of the Saltire, the flag of Scotland. There was a large Unicorn on the wall outside of the shop between the toilets and the restaurant. A sign above proclaiming proudly that it was the national animal of Scotland.
Nez had always thought that was the haggis. Obviously not. She picked up a baguette and a bottle of diet coke in the shop and headed back to the minibus. The scenery up till this point had mainly been rolling hills, but as she looked across the field, a mountain range just suddenly appeared like a massive wall right across the horizon. The contrast was eye catching.
The doors to the minibus clicked as Margaret approached. Nez slid the door open and placed the juice and baguette on her seat before she fished her camera out of her bag.
Cautiously, she made her way across the busy carpark and climbed the short bank to take a few pictures of the vista. There was a really imposing castle perched on an outcrop. It's view of the surrounding land must have been impressive. She took some more pictures and headed back to the bus.
The road they pulled onto, took them past the castle and Nez took some more pictures of it.
Dominous, took footage of the castle as they drove by. It was spectacular, perched as it was on the edge of quartz dolerite formation. A leftover remnant from when the area had been volcanically active. Dating back to before the 1100's, the castle had a varied history and Dom had considered going to University nearby. He had been dithering between doing a degree in architecture, or one in archaeology. He had made his mind up at the last moment, looking at all the different University prospectus, arrayed out in front of him on his bedroom floor in his parents' house. He couldn't help but notice that in the pictures, not only did the archaeology courses have more women, they were generally better looking. Loins over-ruled head, and an architectural degree in Stirling became an archaeology one in Southern England.
Watching the nearby sixty seven meter Wallace Monument come closer and then disappear out of view, Dom wondered, not for the first time, over whether or not he had made a terrible mistake. His fingers itched to delve into his bag and retrieve his pad and pencils. There was something that cried out in his soul to draw the Gothic monument. There was so much history attached to that tower, not least that one of the apprentices to the architect, John Rochead, would later go on to train Charles Rennie Mackintosh, who was a bit of an idol for Dom.
*****
They pulled off the dual carriageway at Perth to stop at a Tesco to refuel, buy some more food and pay a visit to the toilets again. The hills around them just seemed to get taller. It was hard to believe that she was still on the same island.
Eventually they pulled off the dual carriageway onto a single carriageway. The traffic dropped off markedly. A large brown bird of prey watched them go past, seemingly unconcerned from its perch on the fence post at the side of the road. Nez tried to get her camera out, but they were past and out of sight by the time the camera switched on.
There was so much wild life and very little signs of human habitation. Water poured impressively down a cliff face. She managed a couple of good shots. A herd of deer grazed near the road, unconcerned about the light traffic. They joined the pictures on her SD card.
They drove through a small cluster of houses dwarfed by a Victorian looking hotel, alongside a small shop that doubled as a post office and a petrol station next to car garage, a few seconds later they were back in amongst the trees.
Nez had never seen so many trees outwith a nature show on the Amazon rainforest. Fifteen minutes later, the mini bus slowed to a stop next to a now familiar sign. They were all a uniform green, the words 'Forestry Commission' along the top and then what appeared to be the letters no-one wanted in Scrabble, followed by 'Forest'.
The gate was opened and the first minibus made its way along the gravel track. They moved forward slightly and stopped as Lucy-Anne stopped so as Margaret could step out to shut the gate behind them
The track looked to be well made and had, until recently, been carpeted by green stuff Nez didn't recognise. Something, lots of somethings, had been along recently and ground the foliage into a browning mush, bar a single strip of green down the middle.
Nez removed her headphones. The charge in them was mostly gone now anyway.
"Damn. I forgot my banjo." Dean said in a poor American accent.
Some of the others laughed. Nez didn't understand the reference. Something that resembled a black turkey on steroids, eyed them menacingly as they slowly crunched past. Of the surrounding area, there wasn't much to see, hemmed in by all the mature trees. The track bore left, but they continued right, along a fresh track recently laid and rolled. Nez had no idea as to the distance, but it was a good ten minutes, the last few minutes of which had been along side a bubbling stream. The trees started to open up as the valley they had been moving through widened, the reason for the width glinting briefly through the trees. A row of blue thunder-boxes lined the edge of the track, a different location from building sites and music festivals.
A silenced generator linked by several feet of pipe to a diesel tank sat on some sort of blue and yellow fabric thing that Nez presumed was there to stop or soak up spills. The minibus slowed to a stop and the engine was turned off.
"Finally! My ass is numb."
"A bit like the rest of you."
"I said numb, not dumb."
Nez slipped her daysack over her shoulder and cautiously stepped onto the fresh gravel. Her legs cried out to be stretched, as did her back.
The gravel road ended in a turning circle the minibuses were now parked in. The wide area for the turning circle had continued, providing the base for the large military looking tents. As a group, they headed over to the first one. A row of single beds down either side.
"Not exactly the Ritz, is it?"
"And I didn't think anything could be worse than the halls of residence...."
"Right!" Professor Leon proclaimed loudly to them all, "The first tent is for males, the second one is the cookhouse come meeting/briefing room." The middle tent did have a smaller one attached to the back. "The third is for the women."
"I identify as a woman..." Dean cockily interrupted.
"Give me five seconds with a knife and you will be..."
"It goes without saying," Professor Leon continued "that no males are to enter the female tent. If any of you are caught, without a good excuse, you will be immediately sent back, at your own expense, and you will be failed and thrown off the course. And that isn't an idle threat. So don't do it."
"You said it, even though you said 'It goes without saying, so is that a double negative and we are allowed in?"
"Dean, your scores and performance so far on the course don't allow you the leeway to make remarks like that. I suggest that if you even want to scrape the narrowest of passes, then you commit yourself fully over the next few weeks."
"Someone forgot to pack their sense of humour..." Dean muttered, but loudly enough so everyone could hear.
Professor Leon ignored him, checking his watch. "Right. You all have ten minutes to sort out whose sleeping where and to unload your bags from the mini busses. Then we will meet up in the middle tent for an induction and fire safety briefing."
Nez dumped her bags on a bed in the middle of the right hand side of the tent. It truly was basic. Not unlike all those refugee camps seen on the news. Hopefully with less cholera. At the far end, sat on the floor, was a small box containing six plug sockets. A thick cable led out the back and under the tent. No doubt to the generator. Nez retrieved her charger and plugged her phone in, though there didn't appear to be any power coming from the plug. As soon as she did, there was a mad scramble for the remaining five.
There wasn't much time left, so she grabbed a pen and one of the several writing pads she had brought, and headed to the main tent. There was a quiet rumble and belch of smoke as the diesel generator fired up. Professor Leon was standing at the generators side, hand holding a bundle of waterproofed sheets, no doubt the instructions on the generators use, as his other hand pressed away at what appeared to be a control panel.
Seating inside the main tent was several plain and purely functional benches that sat two, and matching tables. Lucy-Anne had already set up several large whiteboards, and a projector linked to a laptop. The projector was currently pointed at a whiteboard, which came to life displaying the Windows desktop.
The rest of the students trickled in along with Professor Leon, who did a head count.
"Right, let's get this started."
"Do we need to take notes?"
"If you think you should. You are an adult - God help us all - so make your own decision. To start off, there is to be no smoking in the tents. At all. That includes vapes. There is only one designated smoking area and that will be where the minibuses are. There will be a bucket there shortly, with sand, which is where 'all' your fag butts will go. Not on the ground. May I point out the obvious, that we are surrounded by a forest and one carelessly discarded cigarette could cause a conflagration. Lets not be responsible for one. Litter. There will be bins. Use them. Don't throw your rubbish into the bushes. If I catch any one littering, you will be heading back to wherever you call home and your end of course score will reflect that accordingly.
"There are two fire extinguishers in each of the sleeping tents. They are only to be used for fighting fires and not for shenanigans. Should there be a fire that can't be extinguished, then the assembly point will be at the minibuses."
"What if the fire is at the assembly point?"
"Then the back-up point will be at the shoreline, where we will make our way to the pontoons, to await rescue. Medical cover other than basic first aid, will be at the village. Only one minibus to be taken to the village at a time. And may I remind you all, that only those with D1 on their licence can drive them, which is pretty much none of you. The nearest hospital is in Inverness, several hours drive away. So lets not have any injuries please. There will be a rota going up for pan bash, and outside areas. If you tidy up after you and secure your rubbish properly, then there wont be a need for outside areas. The ball is in your court people. What else. There are to be no extensions plugged into the socket unit in the tents. If I see any, I will cut the plugs off them. Overloading the sockets could start a fire and fire we do not want. Right..."
Professor Leon unfolded an Ordinance Survey explorer map, which had a scale of 1:25000 and stuck it onto one of the boards with a magnet at each corner.
"We are here." He pointed to a part of the map. "Should there be an emergency," Professor Leon wrote three words above the map on the board "Those are the 'What three words' for the camp to be given to the emergency services." moved the laptop's mouse, clicked, and a Google maps satellite image of the loch appeared projected onto one of the whiteboards.
"As you all know, it was a member of the public looking at the area, spotted the outlines and asked what they were and that enquiry was passed to us to find out." The images taken from space showed dark lines in the loch that were too symmetrical and evenly spaced out to be naturally occurring. "The RAF took some more pictures at our request." Lucy-Anne clicked again and the satellite view was replaced with high quality pictures. The lines under the water were even more defined.
"The recent dry weather has lowered the height of the loch, making the outlines more pronounced. Tonight Mathew, or first thing in the morning. I want you to take the Mosquito out, focus on this area of the Loch here. If you can take a LIDAR image of the Loch bed before the students start going mad with their trowels tomorrow and reduce the water visibility to that of the air in a Chinese city, that would be grand." Professor Leon pointed out the area where the lines were. "I've done some digging and there is no record of there being any settlement in this area. I even spoke with the locals and none of them knew of any habitation in the valley. There has always been a loch there for as long as any one remembers.
"Nez, I want you and Jim to photograph the loch bed here, where the outlines are. The area may increase, we'll see how we go."
"Are they sheep pens?"
"That was one of the more popular theories online, but given the potential length of time the structures have been under water, that would predate sheep, and they are a bit small for cattle."
"Got to be haggis."
"Let's keep the speculation to a minimum. I'll not keep you as I know it was a long drive and that you want to get settled in. If you have any sensible questions, stay behind."
No one stayed behind.
Nez sat on her camp bed. It was a bit too low to the ground for her liking, but it was preferable to being on the ground. She looked over at Debbie wondering if it had dawned on her yet, that there would be no 'clubbing' going on. The closest they were likely to get, would be turning up the volume on one of the minibus stereos and leaving the hazard lights flashing.
Nez pulled over the heaviest of her two bags. Unzipping it, she pulled out the most expensive item of clothing she had ever bought and it had been second hand. It was a wreck divers dry suit. It had thicker neoprene than a normal dry suit and also included integral rip stop mesh. Over the knees and elbows were additional armadillo like plastic plates to protect the suit from scrapes and jagged edges. Contained inside the suit was her face mask, which she removed and checked over. At the bottom of the bag were her flippers and weights.
The flippers were slightly smaller than usual to accommodate being in tight enclosed spaces, and had additional protection in the form of more plastic plates around where her ankles and Achilles would be. Inside the flipper boots, were her gloves, which had plastic protection over her knuckles. Happy every thing was as they should be, she hung up what had once been a bright pink, now a more faded peach colour suit from one of the poles that supported the tent's roof. Underneath the wreck suit, she normally wore a simple, conservative one piece black swimsuit. There really wasn't much more to do, other than brush her teeth and change into shorts and a T-shirt.
*****
Rolling over, Nez checked the time on her phone. Not long after two am. She had expected it to be dark and quiet at night. It was neither of these things. Pale light of dawn was already filtering through the opaque, flexible plastic windows. Something had landed on the top of the tent and hooted loudly until someone had thrown a shoe at it, then a further someone had yelled loudly after being struck in the face by a falling shoe. Something that didn't sound like a dog, barked at random intervals, causing something else that sounded like it was from a horror movie, to shout at it in reply, and something kept snuffling about on the other side of the tent's canvas wall.
Nature, Nez decided, was best kept to TV and sir David Attenburgh. It wasn't for normal people. Maybe special occasions, at a push. Whatever was barking, needed shot.
The accidentally on purpose, burning down of the surrounding forest was starting to become tempting. Nez fished out her headphones and turned on the noise cancelling function.
*****
Unzipping the sleeping bag, Nez fought with the soft cocoon to get her feel disentangled from the bottom, not really succeeding as she swung her feet out over the side, taking the bottom of the sleeping bag with her. Kicking her feet free, she dragged the bottom of the bag back onto the cot bed.
Slipping her bare feet into her sandals, she made her way to the thunder boxes to relieve the pressure in her bladder. This early in the exploration, there was just a pool of blue lurking at the bottom behind the hygiene flap. Back in the tent, she stripped naked and donned her one piece, a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. She stayed clear of the greasy breakfast and helped herself to some muesli.
Some laptops had been set up and Mathew had one linked to the drone, no doubt tweaking settings. The thing took up almost all the table, it's size dictated by the need to carry the LIDAR scanner beneath it. Someone had taken the time to artistically emblazon 'RAF Mosquito' down both sides. Nez walked closer as there was writing directly under the RAF and she was curious to see what it said.
Really Annoying Fucker.
There was a pan of soapy hot water next to the hot plates and Nez washed her cutlery and plates in it, leaving them on a rack to air dry. Jim was already at the trailer, pulling out tanks and equipment, stacking them in a wheelbarrow.
Taking the handles, Nez pushed the barrow down to one of the two boats and lifted the gear nmainto one that already had trowels, pins, hammers and string in it, before returning the barrow to the minibuses. When all the equipment they needed was on board, Nez headed back to the tent to remove shorts and t-shirt and don her wreck suit. She climbed into the boat as Jim and (X?) pushed it off the shingle into the water proper before jumping in themselves. Jim took up position at the oars as Nez lifted out a shoe box with handles and a glass bottom. As Jim pulled them away from the shore, Nez got herself comfortable at the stern and leaned over the back, dipping the shoe box into the water.
The water was amazingly clear, not like the lakes she was used to. No bikes, cars, shopping trolleys and the general detritus of people too lazy to properly dispose of their waste. There was also a marked absence of variety in the plant life and remarkably little aquatic life in general. At least, so far. That might change once they were further from the shore.
"See anything interesting?" Jim asked.
"Nope. Not a thing. Unless you like pebbles." The bottom was slowly falling away. The water becoming darker, murkier. Above, a very loud Mosquito was approaching.