First Book To Be Translated

Journey Through the Great Emptiness

I decide to try and cross the river and camp on the other bank. There my clothes can dry over the campfire so that tomorrow my trek can continue with dry clothes. A sturdy poplar trunk will need to support me to traverse the foaming dark waters of the river. Carefully, step by step I slide over the smooth stones through the heavy current. Rest for a moment, take a good look, then another step. Slowly the middle of the river is approached, the poplar trunk prevents my legs from being swept away. Then there is no bottom beneath me anymore, the trunk no longer provides support, and my backpack pushes me underwater. I nearly choke on a mouthful of water, my chin bumps against the hard poplar trunk. In an instant, the poplar trunk disappears into the river. A desperate try to get up fails, I cannot breathe. A try to turn myself onto my back to get my head above water, fails too. Occasionally I get a grip on the stony bottom, but the current is stronger. Coughing heavily a rigorous decision needs to be made. I do not want to, but I have to. I have to unbuckle my backpack. Blazing fast I search for the buckle of my waist belt, it fails to unbuckle. Fury gives me strength. Then the waist belt comes loose, my shoulder straps slide off my shoulders. But I am not yet freed from my precious burden. A sharp pain rips through my neck. My compass, the cord of my compass is around my neck and snags on a buckle of my shoulder strap. My neck twists out of the noose. Slithering, sliding and gasping for breath, my head rises above the waving and swirling water, finally air. Breathing heavily, coughing and spluttering I desperately try to grab my backpack, but it is too late. The backpack is dragged away and disappears in the foaming, swirling river.

During the struggling and sliding in the middle of the river, the last rays of the sun have disappeared behind the mountain slopes. Stumbling, my battered feet finally reach the shoreline, the shivering of the cold wakes me up. From a boulder my eyes search down the seething swirling stream, hoping to find my backpack. Desperately, in dripping wet clothes, while searching along the shore, realisation hits in that my backpack is gone for good. It is pointless, only a foaming waterfall and raging rapids can be seen.
For minutes I stare blankly in front of me. This cannot be true, can it? My entire equipment is gone! Gradually my miserable situation becomes clear. What is left of my outfit? Nothing of course, everything was in my backpack.
God yes, there are some vital items in the breast pocket of my shirt: a pocket knife, a waterproof match case, my credit card along with a twenty dollar bill in a leather case with a money clip, some old IDs from foreign army units to which I had been posted, and a military pentathlon insignia neatly stored in a leather pass holder. This insignia is still an important reminder, a talisman and amulet, of a unique highlight in my life. Only my pocket knife and the matchbox have value, the rest is as important as luggage insurance, not that useful two hundred kilometers from civilization.

Again my eyes stare into nothingness for minutes. Slowly an uncontrollable insecure feeling creeps up on me, this is a complete disaster! Thinking fails, my self-control is gone, my senses work, but don't come through to me. Shivering and chattering teeth awaken me from my stupor. First get a fire going to warm up!