Sci Fi Story

It’s my one-year anniversary today. One year ago I was working in New Zealand in the city of New Plymouth (North Island). I had had some time to kill over the weekend, so although it was a rainy overcast day I decided to go for a drive along the coast. I drove cautiously on the narrow highway heading north, stopping almost 200 km into my drive. I saw a beach sign and drove quite a ways off of the highway to find it.

There was no parking lot, so I pulled up a rutted hillside dirt road and walked down to the beach. The weather had improved over the last couple of hours, and the sky was now clear and sunny. Only the pristine blue of the sky overhead equaled the water’s brilliant shade of deep blue. It was time to stretch my legs and take a walk.

I casually walked down the beach road towards the beach as it descended into ledges and clefts… terminating in a nearly vertical drop of 5 feet. I sat at its edge and lowered myself to the soft delicate blonde sediment of the beach. Two couples were lounging there and enjoying a late lunch as they fished along the sea. I wanted to give them a berth, so I headed off down the beach. Soon after I encountered a stream rushing across the span of beach, so I took off my boots and socks, rolled up my jeans, and forged my way across. The water was runoff from the earlier rains, dark with volcanic ash, knee deep and swift. I left my hiking boots and my socks there near the stream, and set out for the far end of the sandy shore. Cliffs 30 to 40 feet high marked the terminus of the beachhead, and extended for more than a mile and a half. The beach was empty, and gave me a strong sense of peace as I walked along.

Lost in my thoughts as I was, I couldn’t tell you how long it actually took for me to encounter the terminus of the beach…I only knew that the cliffs had slowly encroached upon the sandy plain until the water lapped at its base. Near the shore several large boulders were jutting out of the sea. A particular flat-topped piece of weathered limestone looked like a great place to sit or lie beside the surf and rest. I waded out in the ankle deep water to the gently sloping surface of the boulder and took a seat on the seaward side. My toes dangled in the water, and small whitecaps slowly grew and crashed and reformed, as a gentle breeze caressed me. I was watching the birds as they frolicked on the beach or hovered over me while they hunted up a snack. Again, I was so enraptured with the tranquility of the location that it took a while before I realized that the tide was coming in. It was time to go.

I stood, turned and began to walk down the ramp like rock surface. Suddenly my good left leg (the good leg) slid out from under me on the surf slickened limestone. All of my weight went to my right leg (which had suffered an ACL tear 11 months earlier), which buckled under me and collapsed inward. I fell with a sickening popping sound loudly emanating from my knee, and landed with my foot alongside my hip. A bright flash of red and white pain obscured my vision as my nervous system was overwhelmed. Rolling onto my back, I fell off of the boulder and into the knee-deep water. The grating and snapping of the bones in my knee returning to a more proper angle accompanied my splash into the water.

My hands clasped at my knee for only a brief time as I grimaced out of pain, but still the thought that the tide was coming in moved me quickly to try to make my way back off the beach. I hopped and clambered, clawed and crawled to the cliffs along the back of the beach. There I used the cliffs to support me, while I scraped my way back. Every step was agonizing as my leg shook loosely, where once it was firm. The beach was slowly becoming a narrow causeway as I managed the last several hundred feet to the stream without the cliff at my side.

I found my shoes and socks, and heaved them across the stream. Then I maneuvered in a derivative of the downward facing dog, my weight upon my extended arms and straightened good leg. I forded the stream with water splashing off of my arms and legs. My bad leg being pulled downstream I was forced to face upstream to relieve the pressure by moving sideways across the current. On the other side of the stream I sat down on a boulder and put my shoes on. From the relative safety above the high tide indicators, I contemplated the half mile ascent to my car…

And as much as I hate this,

To Be Continued