Axel traversed the slope and glided down through the trees to the edge of the clearing, his skis making scarcely a sound on the soft snow. He paused and observed the hut. Moving around the edge of the clearing, first left and then right, he stopped frequently to study the landscape. Satisfied, he returned to a place he had marked with a small pile of snow. He shrugged off his heavy rucksack and unpacked the camera. Releasing the tripod from its straps, he wedged it firmly in the snow, attached the camera and with the sun sinking lower and lower towards the horizon, commenced a series of careful exposures. With the sun disappearing behind a distant mountain, the silence was broken by a cry of 'This way. It's just down here!'. Looking up, all he could see was a lone skier drifting effortlessly down through the trees. He looked vaguely familiar.
Eye glued to the viewfinder, Axel made his final exposure as the newcomer reached exactly the right position for his composition on his approach to the hut. Feeling pleased, especially with the unexpected bonus of the last shot, he gathered up his gear and also headed for the hut. As he did so, two more skiers made their way inexpertly down through the trees. On the edge of the clearing, one of them fell. As her companion helped her up, her ski cap came off, revealing a striking mane of golden blonde hair.
Introducing himself, Jonnathon reminded Axel that they had met in similar circumstances a couple of seasons previously at Kelly's Hut. As they unbuckled their skis, he continued, 'When I reported to the Park Headquarters that I planned to stay here overnight, they told me I could expect to find you here.' Indicating the others still struggling to cross the clearing, he explained, 'I met these two, hopelessly lost, about twenty minutes ago. They wouldn't have been able to make it back to the village before dark, even if they could have found the way, so I brought them along with me. All I know about them is that their names are Jason and Donna.'
As Jonnathon helped Donna disentangle herself from her skis, Axel, pushing open the door, stepped down into the hut from the bank of snow piled up against it and dumped his gear on one of the two lower bunks. Taking the shovel leaning against the wall, he began clearing the snow from the doorway.
Free of her skis and carefully avoiding Axel's shovel, Donna peered into the hut and exclaimed, 'What on earth is this place?'
Her tone left no doubt this was not the type of accommodation she had expected on her first visit to the ski fields. Even her flat, in a ramshackle old block in Sydney, had not prepared her for this. Her reaction was understandable; the facilities offered by the hut were primitive, at best.
That it was still standing was testimony to the solidity of its construction. It was built about a century ago as part of a semi-permanent camp by cattlemen tending their herds during summer grazing in the high country. When the National Park was declared and grazing discontinued, the hut was used in summer by bush walkers and as a winter refuge for skiers.
Its walls were of rough, vertical timber slabs cut from the surrounding bush. The original bark sheets of the steeply pitched roof had been covered with corrugated iron long ago but could still be seen from the inside. There was no ceiling and the bark provided some insulation from the summer sun and winter chills. The bare earth floor had been packed rock hard by generations of feet. Ancient, flattened kerosene cans were nailed to the inside walls to cover the biggest gaps between the slabs. Still faintly legible were long forgotten brand names such as 'Plume', 'Texaco' and 'Atlantic'.
The single room was dominated by a large stone fireplace at one end. Against the opposite wall were four solidly built double-decker bunks with thin, hard, vinyl covered mattresses. The only other furniture was a rickety and much repaired table, four ill assorted but solid chairs, and an old kitchen dresser with coloured lead lights in the doors looking quite incongruous in the corner by the fireplace. It contained an odd assortment of metal plates and mugs, some cutlery and a few pots and pans as well as a small supply of dry and tinned food for use as emergency rations. On top were two battered hurricane lamps, a white enamel candlestick, and a few candles. Oddly, in such a place, there was only one notice.
Seeming satisfied with his snow clearing efforts, Axel busied himself setting a fire. The fireplace, made entirely of local stone, was an impressive example of bush ingenuity, with a thick iron plate which could be lowered to cover half the fire to provide a cooking surface. Over the other half, suspended from a heavy blackened chain, hung a large iron kettle with a brass tap at its base. Extracting a foil wrapped fire lighter from a side pocket of his pack, he inserted it amongst the kindling and soon had a roaring fire going.
'How did you come to be lost up here?' Jonnathon asked Jason.
'I'm an actor' he replied. 'I've just finished a long run in a show, and we decided to come up to the snow for ten days for a bit of a break.' He mentioned the name of a recent long running blockbuster musical but neglected to say that his had been a very minor role. He also did not say that, apart from parts as an accident victim who later dies in hospital in a TV police drama and a tea bag jiggler in a commercial, this was the only acting work he had been able to obtain.
'This is our third day here,' he continued.' The first two days, Donna took some lessons with the ski instructor and was doing just great. But she wanted to have some practice on her own away from all the people, so we came up on the ski lift this morning.'
He went on to explain that, because she had only wanted to go gently downhill, they had picked out the gentle slopes along the top of the range and moved further and further away from the ski lift. It was not until they had finished their late lunch that Jason realised they were lost. In trying to find their way back they had become even more hopelessly lost.
'But surely' interposed Axel, returning through the back door with an armful of firewood, 'With snow conditions the way they are, you could have easily followed your own tracks back.
'Oh!' exclaimed Jason, with a blinding flash of understanding; 'I never thought of that.'
Donna had started to shiver and moved closer and closer to the fire. Her clothing, more suited to aprés ski than the slopes and sodden as a result of her many falls, began steaming gently. Half joking, Jason suggested that she undress and hang her clothes to dry from the line above the fireplace. Without a word, she proceeded to do just that. Clad only in a brief bra and panties she reached up and hung the wet garments from the line, displaying her slim but shapely figure to the three men without any sign of embarrassment. Having arranged the last of the garments to her satisfaction, she stood in front of the fire, rotating slowly to warm herself. It was quite the best performance of its kind the hut had witnessed.
If she was not embarrassed, Jonnathon certainly was. Turning his back on her, he quickly reached into his pack, produced his sleeping bag and insisted that she climb into it to keep warm. Curled up on a bunk, warm and comfortable, she soon started to doze.
"It's about time we started to think about dinner;' announced Jonnathon, still a little flustered. 'With what Axel and I brought and by declaring this an emergency and using some of the food that was here, I think I can concoct a reasonable meal.'
He set to immediately, declining any help from Axel.
Sitting by the side of the fireplace, Axel, the lecturer in applied mathematics and passionate landscape photographer, attempted conversation with the would-be actor. Finding little common ground, he gave up the attempt and had to endure Jason's self-important account of his short theatrical career. Eventually, Jonnathon came to his rescue, asking Jason to set the table and wake Donna for dinner. Before serving the meal, he went to his pack and with a flourish, produced a bottle of a good red wine which he handed to Axel with a corkscrew. From a round, felt-lined, metal case he extracted one elegant wine glass. 'I'm sorry,' he said. 'You lot will have to make do with mugs.'
While Axel poured the wine, Jonnathon served what might be loosely termed a risotto, although the Italians would probably not have recognised it. He had prepared it with rice, reconstituted dehydrated vegetables and some herbs and spices which he carried in small packets in the food box in his pack. It both smelled and tasted delicious to four hungry people. For dessert, they shared the only food Jason and Donna had with them, two chocolate bars. As they were finishing the last of their wine, Jason leaned back contentedly in his chair and announced; 'John Baby, that was some meal.'
Sitting bolt upright, Jonnathon snapped back; 'My name is Jonnathon. Don't call me John and certainly not John Baby.'
Quickly changing the subject, Axel asked what the others intended to do in the morning, saying that he planned to be up and away before dawn to catch the light of the rising sun as it touched the tops of the mountains and slowly lit up the valleys. The trip would take about an hour in the dark but would be quicker coming back. He then proposed to return quickly to the village for lunch before setting off home. He was sorry but he needed to be back home by early evening and would be unable help Donna and Jason on their return trip. Without ever discussing it, the two experienced skiers had realised that one of them would have to guide the other two on what would be a slow return trip. Jonnathon, who had intended spending a relaxed morning around the hut before skiing back in the afternoon, graciously accepted the inevitable and agreed to set out with them shortly after breakfast.
Jonnathon told Donna that, of course, she could keep his sleeping bag for the night. He had an extra sweater that he could wear and the hut was now really quite cosy. Axel offered his extra sweater to Jason and volunteered to keep the fire going during the night. He also said he would be making porridge before his early departure and would leave the pot by the fire to keep warm for them.
With the hurricane lamps extinguished and lit only by the flickering firelight, the hut was suffused with an air of peace and tranquillity and its guests were soon asleep.
They were awakened abruptly a little after midnight by the howl of the wind and a loud banging. Peering out the back door to investigate, Axel announced, 'Its blowing a gale with a lot of snow mixed in with it and there's a loose sheet of iron flapping around on the veranda roof.' After adding more wood to the fire, he returned to his sleeping bag and they all tried to get back to sleep again, with little success.
The hut braced itself against the ferocity of the wind but felt no responsibility for the lean-to veranda roof. It was a recent addition, erected to cover the woodpile and provide some shelter between the hut and the primitive bush toilet. Even if the whole thing blew away, its guests would still be safe.
By morning, the wind was still at gale force and it was snowing heavily. True to his promise, Axel made a large pot of porridge. Sitting around the fire eating it, they discussed what they should do. They agreed that the only sensible thing was to stay where they were until the weather improved but Axel expressed some concern.
'Nobody is going to be anxious about Jonnathon and I', he said. 'The Park authorities know we planned to spend last night here. They will assume we are doing the sensible thing and staying on. But, nobody knows that you two are here. I'm worried that you will have been missed and the patrols are out looking for you in these difficult and dangerous conditions, possibly putting their own lives at risk.'
'Are you serious,' asked Jason excitedly. 'They will be out in this weather looking for us? What marvellous publicity!'
Axel's look dissuaded him from saying anything further along those lines. However, headlines were already forming in his mind. 'Young Actor Missing In Blizzard'. He could almost hear the radio and television newscasters. 'Promising young actor, Jason Reynolds and his attractive girlfriend....' Yes! It certainly would be good publicity. Sam, his agent, would be pleased.
Having accepted that they were stuck in the hut until at least the following morning, Axel and Jonnathon turned their attention to the noisy veranda roof. With the aid of a not wholeheartedly enthusiastic Jason and a couple of chairs from the hut, they managed to hoist two heavy pieces of firewood up onto the offending sheet of iron. These kept it anchored and quiet, even in the stronger gusts.
The rest of the day passed in desultory fashion. Apart from Jason and Donna lying huddled together on a bunk, whispering and giggling, there was little conversation. Axel made a pot of soup for lunch and there seemed to be interminable cups of tea.
After lunch, Jonnathon sat in front of the fire idly filing his nails.
'Here, let me do that for you.' Donna said, 'After all, it is what I do for a living.'
Taking a small but efficient looking manicure set from her pocket, she held his hands and examined his nails.
'You really do have quite nice nails for a man.'
'I'll bet you say that to all the men.'
'I did to Jason, didn't I, Luv. That's how we met. The theatre sent him to the salon to have his hair styled for the show and he decided to have a manicure as well. I told him what lovely nails he had and he asked me to go out with him even before I had finished.'
For the evening meal, Jonnathon cooked spaghetti and a tomato sauce from the emergency supplies but it lacked the flair of his previous effort.
The wind had shown signs of abating towards dark and it was snowing less heavily. After dinner, Axel announced that, unless conditions became appreciably worse, he would ski back to the village in the morning to get help. He knew the area well and was sure he would be able to find his way, even in poor visibility. Before turning in, he removed all his camera gear from his pack to lighten it for what he expected would be a difficult and arduous journey.
After another breakfast of porridge from Axel's seemingly inexhaustible supply, the other three clustered around the doorway while, gloved, hooded, muffled and goggled against the hard driving snow, he carefully fitted his skis. Suddenly, a muffled but insistent ringing permeated the hut. Furtively, Jason went to his small pack which had, seemingly, lain untouched in the corner near his bunk since his arrival. He removed his mobile phone and answered.
It was Sam, telling him to return to Sydney immediately for an audition. If there had been any news about a promising young actor and his attractive girlfriend lost in the snow, Sam had not heard it. Saying nothing of their current predicament, Jason explained that, because of the heavy snow, he would not be able to get back for a day or two. With a look of total disbelief, Jonnathon held out his hand for the phone. Turning his back, Jason said quickly, 'I can't talk now. I'll ring you when I know when I can get away' and terminated the call.
'Do you mean to say,' exclaimed Axel, who had rejoined the others in the hut, 'You've had that damn thing all the time and never said anything!'
'Sorry,' he mumbled, any acting skills deserting him, 'I forgot I had it.'
"In that case, how come it was still working. I thought the batteries in those things were only good for eight or ten hours, even on standby?'
'Well, actually, it hasn't been on all the time,' replied Jason sheepishly. 'I knew Sam would ring early in the morning if he had anything for me. Because we left early to come up on the lift, I brought it with me. When he hadn't called by the time we started to ski, I turned it off. I only remembered it this morning and turned it back on.'
Shaking his head, Jonnathon held out his hand again for the phone.
It was left to Donna to voice what they were all thinking. 'Jason, you are stupid sometimes!'
'Always,' murmured Axel, half under his breath.
Two Rangers in a snowmobile collected them later that afternoon and the hut settled back into its winter solitude.
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Letter to the Author: Lincoln Donald at lincolndonald@hotmail.com