In search of the river

When we were kids, my two cousins and I often spent our Easter holidays at my father's small stone and wooden house in a tiny village on top of a high mountain in the Peloponnese. Our memories from those holidays are filled with adventures, wild creatures, meat cooked in the fireplace, an array of unforgettable characters and some very loyal friends. Our memories are also strangely intermingled with those of my father's and of his friends', as we spent a lot of time listening to old stories and old adventures. So much so, that sometimes it is hard to distinguish what really happened to us and what had happened to my father and to his friends when they were kids. It seemed at the time that whatever we did and whatever adventures we had, nothing ever came close enough to what they had done as kids. Somehow, every night their stories seemed so much more exciting than ours. Most of them were, except maybe for one, which has been very much talked of in the family since and because of which we all got into some considerable trouble.

Amongst the stories they used to talk about, one stood out and came up again and again. It was about five of them going on a search for a wild river, which ran quite deep down into the valley, below our house. The melted snow of the winter used to run wild in it from the high mountain tops and its best part was deep down below, hidden into the valley. The river was not visible from above as our house stood quite high up on the mountain, on the side of a steep hill. It was very hard to estimate how far down the river was and which was the best way to get to it. The vegetation and plants were very wild in the area. They described the river as this amazing running force, with fish, frogs and crabs in it. How they had fished and caught crabs and cooked them and how they had swam in it. It all sounded so adventurous! We could not have even imagined that a river existed in that area, let alone that it had fish and crabs in it.

One year when I was around ten years old and my cousins were around nine and eleven, I convinced them that we should go in search of that river, to see if it really was anything like what the grown ups were describing and to come back from our adventure with a much better story than theirs. We decided to do that in secret so that we could surprise everyone and return with evidence that we had found the famous river. We prepared our rucksacks in advance the night before. My cousins had the bright idea of taking with us every single gadget that existed in the house. If you saw our rucksacks you would think we were going to mount Everest. They took my uncle's walkie-talkies, his torch, my fathers army binoculars, my father's Zenit photographic camera (to take photos for evidence that we had gone to the river), a heavy double-glass insulated Thermos filled only with water, my uncle's ski gloves, an umbrella, a blanket, ear muffs, a tin of cookies and two pairs of ski glasses. The rucksacks were so heavy that even carrying them to the top of the main path was a bit of a struggle. We woke up early, at six, and left the house like thieves, one by one in the dark, with the rucksacks dragging us down and our thick rubber boots and knee high socks on. We left a note for the grown ups announcing that we would be back for dinner and that we had gone on an excursion.

Rucksack

The day seemed bright enough to begin with, but the previous night a very heavy rain had fallen, so that the earth was really soft and in places muddy puddles blocked the path. We decided to keep to the main path all the way around the first hill and then to start descending, about after an hour's walk. Just before we reached that spot, a huge muddy puddle blocked the road so much that there was no way around it. On one side a very abrupt rock stood high and on the other side a steep precipice lurked. So we decided that my older cousin should try and jump across and then we could throw our rucksacks over to him and cross too, by placing one foot in the centre of the puddle and then swing the other leg across it. My older cousin managed to cross, but kneeled near the edge of the puddle so that his trousers were covered in mud. My younger cousin went next, and placed his one leg in the mud. Then he stretched the second one all the way across to the other side. But when he went to move the first foot from the mud, the mud kept the boot stuck in it and his foot came off with the sock, he lost his balance and fell sideways into the mud. It was so funny, but it really took us about half an hour to get him out and then get me across. He was covered in thick, cold mud and his boots and socks were covered in mud inside and out. I dropped my rucksack in the mud and so it had doubled in weight. We thought about turning back at that point, as we were only an hour away, but we all voted against it.

Boots

The descent down was a bit chaotic and arbitrary, as we took whatever path around the vegetation and trees seemed the easiest. There was no noting which way we were going. The downhill force was accelerating, we were hopping down rather than walking. Half way down the abrupt slopes, the weather changed. It changed so fast, that within a matter of a couple of hours, a thick mist came into the deep valleys, the grey clouds hiding behind it, and a ferocious rain started to fall. It soon turned dark and a thunderstorm broke out. We had no idea of where we were or which way the river was. So we kept on galloping downwards, guessing that we should at some point come across the river by default. We were soaking wet by that point, but still in good spirits. At some point we heard the river roaring through the thunderstorm. It was a grey, angry river, with tonnes of water running through it. No chance to see any crabs or fish in that water and no way to cross it. Any stepping stones were covered by the angry water.

My older cousin opened the umbrella and secured it at the edge of the river and then took out his socks and trousers and started rinsing the mud off. We were so scared that we were going to be told off by my grandmother for dirtying our clothes so much, that my younger cousin and I also took our socks and trousers off to wash them. The water was freezing and my cousin lost one of his socks and one of his brother's socks to the current. The trousers would not dry of course and then lightning came and struck on the opposite side of the river, on a tall pine tree, making a tremendous noise afterwards. So there we were, kind of lost, wet and freezing to the bone, half covered in mud and with an umbrella open during a thunderstorm. We realised that eventually and we closed it. By that time we had started to be a bit worried. We had found the river, but everything else had gone wrong.

The way back was one of the scariest things that has ever happened to me. It was very dark from the mist and you could not see any further than two metres ahead. The rain would not stop, it was cold and the noise of the thunderstorm and the the rainfall was very distracting and covered our voices. I could hear nothing but a horrible loud buzzing. It all had an urgent edge to it. We soon realised that there was no way to find out the way that we had come, so we decided to go straight up instead. Straight up was a hill that had turned into pure clay and mud from the rainfall. It was covered in a kind of reed that grew in the form of metre tall bushes with sharp long spikes. Every time we tried to grab hold of one of those bushes in order to pull ourselves upwards, the bush would come out of the earth by its roots. It was almost impossible to climb up. It took us half an hour to move up ten metres. The weight of the rucksacks and the mud sticking on the boots were dragging us down, back towards the river. At some point my younger cousin slipped and rolled so far down, it took him twenty minutes to get back to where we were. At some places the boots immersed into the mud more than half way so that you had to take your foot out and pull with both hands to dislodge them. At that point we started to panic and decided to drop the equipment. We threw the binoculars away, then the walkie-talkies, soon the torch, then the gloves, the blanket, the umbrella and finally the ski glasses and ear muffs. We kept the Thermos with the water, the tin of biscuits and my father's camera.

By that time it was dark because the night was falling. We started to hear gun shots, so we knew they were looking for us. My eldest cousin could work out from the noise which way to go and at some point, somehow, we reached the top and we found ourselves on the main path. We were walking in an automatic way; ours legs were moving by themselves and we had kept a distance between us. My eldest cousin was walking ahead, with an empty rucksack, bloody hands and scratched up face and completely wet. I was following about ten metres behind. My boots were very heavy, a thick layer of clay stuck to them. I could hardly move my feet, I was just dragging them. I was completely covered in mud. My younger cousin was behind me, with only one boot, no rucksack and bloody feet. Two of us were crying and I think we were unable to speak. At some point we saw my father's car. It approached from the opposite direction, beeping and stopped next to my eldest cousin. We found the strength to kind of run towards it, me and my younger cousin. My father saw us and pointed to the house. He said it was very near, we were almost there. There was no way he was going to let us get into the car in the state we were in. Those last metres were the longest I have ever walked.

Car

We spend the night next to the fire place. All our clothes were destroyed by the mud and my youngest cousin suffered a horrible cold as a result of the whole thing. We were in a lot of trouble for taking and losing all the equipment and for sneaking out without letting anyone know what we were up to. I was in the most of trouble for that. Somewhere amongst all the anger and disappointment, I think they were very happy to see us back and well. And since then they always throw in this story amongst their own old ones. It's so funny, I can hardly remember the river as we saw it on that day, but we all remember the one with the fish and the crabs and the frogs and the one everyone swam in.

Fireplace

Bed