Chapter 31

We continued the discussion about leaving the cabin, even did some preliminary planning of the “what if” and “then what” kind.

There was little we needed to do outside; food and firewood were close to the door and the weather was such that we went out only when driven by necessity. It felt strange, not having a chore that had to be done before I was finished for the day!

The deeper cold that had settled in after the last storm was dangerous, to the point that even taking care of sanitary necessities was a serious matter. Mostly, we talked. We became positively chatty, so unlike what life had been during the summer! Summer and fall had been our silent seasons, and by the time we returned in the evening, there was always work to be done before we were ready for bed. By then, we were too tired to talk.

People opened up more about feelings and opinions, and there was considerable discussion about Robert’s tribe. I’d interacted mostly with Robert, so I reported on him while Laz and Cindy shared what they knew of the other people. Millie, Sandra and Lilia were looking forward to meeting the other women, but I needed to know more about the others. Would they accept me as trek leader?

Finally, the weather warmed slightly. We’d had sunshine for the past few days, but the temperature was still below freezing and the snow showed no signs of melting. It was time to see Robert’s tribe for myself. I took Laz along; he knew the people and could advise me while I formed my own opinions. It would also give him time to visit his extended family.

There was a crust of ice on the snow that made walking without snowshoes difficult, so we strapped them on for the trip. We no longer slipped as much, but the ice caused the leather cross-lacings to wear Even so, walking was pleasant and it felt good to get outdoors. Cabin fever? Not yet, but we had all become restive while we’d been forced to stay inside. The increased conversation was a symptom, but I would begin to worry when people stopped talking to each other.

We reached Robert’s camp late that afternoon, although it was more small village than camp. The houses followed two general plans, a log house and a kind made with stacked sod walls; both had steep roofs of layered plant material. The roofs were similar to downtime thatch, but differed because of the local materials that builders had used. No two of the habitations were alike, even though they shared features.

According to Robert, the sod houses had been built by the people from southern France, while the log variety had been built by the eastern-Europeans. This small village clearly represented a considerable investment in time and labor, but I could see why they’d decided to leave. Despite their greater numbers, Robert’s people were as endangered as we were. If the melting snow flooded the surrounding area, the houses in this small valley would be underwater.

We gathered around a campfire that evening. “Matt, why don’t you tell us what you’re thinking.” Robert suggested.

“We have to move; the cabin is a trap waiting to be sprung. Any extended siege, by people or even by animals, will leave us with a choice of coming out and fighting or starving to death. We don’t have enough storage room to stock food and water enough to last more than a few days. The lean-to helps, but it has limited room because of the steep slant of the roof. Space where the roof meets the ground is wasted. Even if we built an additional room on for storage, we would still need to enclose the spring that’s our water source. We’d also need a better solution for our sanitation needs, and I don’t like the idea of putting a privy close to our source for drinking water. It’s bad enough taking care of our needs away from the cabin, but those are widespread instances and natural processes soon break down the small amount of waste. Using a privy, an outhouse, means that natural breakdown will be slowed and the wastes will be concentrated. It’s not as if we were using local groundwater from a well; a spring is the outlet for water that flows underground until it reaches the surface. That spring’s water originates in the mountains farther north so it’s more pure than anything local, but I don’t want to take chances with our water.

“There are other considerations, too. The mine guards are essentially lawless. The mine’s operators can bribe them with metal weapons and food, but we can’t. Sooner or later they’ll come for us again. They might catch us by surprise next time, and there will probably be more of them than we’ve faced so far. Even if they don’t attack, we’ll still have to guard against the possibility. That takes people away from work, and the work must get done.

“We’ve also used up a lot of local resources. There are fewer game animals and plants around, and without agriculture, which we haven’t been able to attempt so far, we have no choice but to keep moving. We’re nomads by necessity until we find a place where we can farm and keep animals. That means ranching or herding, efficient only with domesticated livestock, so domestication also has to be developed if we’re to settle in one place. Even after we begin doing those things, we’ll have to continue hunting and gathering until the agriculture develops enough to supply most of our needs. Our ancestors did it, but it took them centuries, and even with our knowledge, it won’t happen immediately.

“We’ll have to selectively breed plants and animals, and both grow and reproduce at their own pace. We can make the next generation better, but we can’t hurry how much time a generation takes. It’s also going to take manpower, and if people are experimenting they’re not hunting or planting.

“All this snow bothers me too. I don’t know if it will melt this year. It’s a little warmer now, but even so this might still be the start of a new period of glacier expansion. Even if it’s not, when the snow melts the water has to go somewhere. The streams are just not big enough to deal with the water this snow represents, so we will have flooding. We’ve got to leave before that happens.

The first question came from a man named Philippe. “I know little of this land. What direction should we go?”

“There are huge rivers farther east, and if the glaciers are advancing again, they won’t leave us much room to the north. The ocean, an arm of it called the Gulf, was south of here, so that leaves west.

“In the timeline I came from, the area west of here had mountains, caves and fertile river valleys. There was also a lot of game. The first humans to move in there lived on bison and mammoths until they’d established farms, we can too. Those early people were called Clovis and Folsom after the towns where we found flaked points. Both are located in New Mexico, a part of the USA. There weren’t many people there at the time, but it appears they lived well. After scientists started looking, they found evidence in other locations too.”

“My group intends to head southwest, and if you decide you want me to be your trek captain, that’s what we’ll all do. Go south for a few days first, then turn more to the west. That keeps us away from the mine and its guards, as well as taking us to where the climate is warmer. The climate in my timeline was dryer than here but not desert. The American Southwest didn’t become that dry until long after the ice age.”