Little Boy Of The Mountain M
--M--
Moments later, just a little further down, the path swung left, and the trees opened up somewhat, but they were taller now, and thick ferns grew at their roots. The sound of running water became loud in the air.
They had arrived at the fords: an open grassy area where the river ran across the path. Butterflies of many colours fluttered about in the damp air above the rocky stream, which emerged from thick trees on the boy's left, and ran over the pathway in front of him and on into the deep shadows of a stony gorge to the right, disappearing round a sharp bend that led further on into the valley. It was dangerous that way - certainly not navigable by donkey. But he was not going that way today. Nor would he cross the river here and continue on the southward path. Nonetheless, the boy left Clipper in a dappled grassy glen familiar to him, near the banks of the stream to the left, where tiny bright red birds with long tails sat singing gaily above him. The boy, alone, continued leftward to follow the river-path diagonally uphill and upstream, into deeper woods north-eastwards on a narrow old trail of rough stone steps. This led towards the little waterfalls between a thick copse of vine-covered trees, and beyond was the brake of berry bushes that was his destination.
He wondered if he would see salmon jumping this time. These travelled upstream from the plains to spawn in a large mountain lake on the property of their neighbour eastwards and northwards. It was not clear how they made it up the deep gorge further to the south - there must be offshoots from the main river that led to the secret entrances of torturous underground streams that bypassed the greatest waterfalls. Or perhaps it was magic...
He climbed a short flight of steep stairs and arrived at the meeting of two little rivers becoming one, each coming from a different side of a very large boulder-hill that partly blocked the valley. On the right side and further upstream he could see some distance away the tall thin waterfall, while on the left, the slightly wider and deeper stream leaped a series of smaller falls. It was these the salmon navigated on the way up, and where he had sometimes seen them (and caught some).
Further above, beyond his sight, the streams were ultimately found to be from the same source far up in the mountains northward and about a mile eastward above his own house, near the grey-white cliffs of his father's fourth cattle field. The rapid spring waters passed down a deep-cloven channel that formed the highest entry-point of their valley. When it reached it, the river was split into two under a culvert bridge of the High Road, and from there took two divergent paths through the upper section of the valley (for there were many ridges and ledges within it) and joined again where he now stood.
The boy chose the rightward path, which led towards the single tall waterfall, below which lay a deep-swirling pool in the shadow of the great boulder-hill. It's waters were brackish, the colour of dark wine in that blended dappled light under the great trees, whose wide canopies rose even above the massive stone. To get there - and then to the second pool beyond, above the waterfall - he had to cross over a small arched bridge of large rough stones that leapt from the left side of the river to the right. The little bridge, which was built many summers ago by his great grand-father (and which sported a little stone birdbath on the far corner-post) stood in front of and below the huge dividing boulder, down which thick vines grew to the ground. The two streams met and swirled together directly beneath the pretty stone arch, which was paved with small red bricks, now worn and cracked.
He loved this ancient hidden place - this part of the forest was perhaps one of the boy's favourites. His father had shown it to him soon after he was big and able enough to make the journey, though they had not travelled it's deeper regions together since the second of the great storms some years back, when the upper part of the valley was changed.