Clueless Camping

Next morning we set off into the countryside. Apparently Jacob had decided to start me out gently, because we walked to a place where we could rent a canoe. On the other hand he wanted us to paddle over several lakes, so that meant work, even if we were going downstream. Jacob said that the lakes were part of a waterway called Gudenåen, a name that meant creek-dedicated-to-the-gods. In spite of the epithet Å, which is a weird Danish letterand a word for stream or creek, this was actually the longest river of Denmark. I was relieved when he told me we wouldn't paddle the whole length.

That day only across three lakes, and we'd take a break at Himmelbjerget, which could mean Skymountain or Heaven Mountain. Strange, I didn't think Denmark had any mountains. Being in the front of the canoe I missed the twinkle in Jacob's eyes when he translated the name. After a bit of instruction I found paddling relatively easy. Jacob steered thus all I had to do was add speed. The weather was partly cloudy, so it wasn't too hot, and the quiet surroundings and rhythmic stokes made an almost hypnotic calm descend on me. Convenient because the third lake, Julsø, was fucking huge and took forever to navigate.

I kept looking out for something even vaguely resembling a mountain or just a high hill. Nope, nothing but some forest covered slopes. So I was surprised when Jacob steered us to a landing on the south side of the lake and announced that we were at the bottom of Himmelbjerget. This time I caught the smirk on his face. However, once he'd made me climb all the way to the top including up the small tower, I conceded that itwas a steep hill. One of the highest points in the country and the view over the lakes was indeed breathtaking. So I guess this was the closest you could get to the sky (or heaven) on your own legs here in Denmark.

We ate lunch at the picnic grounds, sandwiches we'd made at the inn and drinks purchased at the small kiosk. We had fun laughing about the silly souvenirs, but Jacob actually bought me a patch for my backpack. "Happy Birthday, Russell. We'll attach it tonight. I'm buying one every place we visit, then you'll have a memory of this holiday." Of course he also took pictures with his small digital camera, but the little cloth patches would be tangible reminders. Jacob was such a considerate guy. I felt I could really get to like him, even if he did make me spend time outside. The break from the paddling was welcome too, and meant that I could continue without too much grumbling about the length of Julsø.

So we made it to Jacob's chosen camping spot fairly early in the afternoon. Good thing too, because setting up the tent and cooking a meal on camping gear took us a while. Mostly because I didn't have a clue, but Jacob seemed to have endless patience with my clumsy efforts. He insisted that we take a walk in the forest before starting dinner. "Come on Russell, the beech wood is at its best right now. Just flushed and with all the white anemones on the forest floor." I had to admit that the sheer light green foliage was vibrant in a way I'd never seen before. As we walked along the path following the lake edge Jacob kept chatting.

"These trees probably flushed in the past day or two, because the anemones are still in full bloom. They're adapted to flowering before the bud break of beech, so they can take advantage of the sun light. Actually most of the plants in beech forests are early spring flowers or very shade tolerant. That's because once the canopy closes, hardly any light reaches the forest floor. Not like oak forests, they've a lot of undergrowth." He suddenly looked at me. "Am I boring you? Just tell me to shut up, if you get fed up with the lecture."

I smiled, because it was actually pretty cool to have him rambling on. It saved me from having to come up with intelligent conversation. "No, it's fine, but how come you know so much about trees and stuff?"

Jacob seemed baffled. "My dad's a forester, I thought you knew that?" I shook my head, but didn't want to tell him I'd forgotten most of my previous stay in Denmark. Partly on purpose as I tried to suppress any reminder of the awful time that followed. I was pleased when Jacob shrugged and went on with explaining that Danes loved beech forests in spring. "We have a saying 'Håbet er lysegrønt' which means 'The color of hope is light green' and I'm convinced it's because the sight of woods like this fill us with the joy of spring, and renewal of life, and hope for the future."

Looking at the beauty of the forest around us, I could see his point. In any other situation I'd have considered this shade of green as too bright and artificial. But the soft, green leaves moving in the breeze and being caught by the sun were undeniably natural. As we walked on Jacob told me some more things, ending with: "The beech is our national tree, too. Though a lot of people voted for the oak. We even sing about the beech tree in our national anthem."

This time I was almost certain Jacob was pulling my leg. "You're not serious, are you?"

"I sure am; both the first and the last stanza mention the beech tree and the sea as important to Denmark." Before I could reply, Jacob started on the song. It was slightly weird standing in this beech grove on the edge of a lake with a blond Viking singing lustily. I noticed that he had a strong tenor, and even if I couldn't understand the words and the melody wasn't particularly catchy, somehow the whole experience sent a shiver down my spine. Afterwards Jacob explained that the last stanza said that Denmark would last as long as the blue seas reflected the beech trees on the coast. Like I said: weird, but cute too. And better than Happy Birthday to You, a song I hated.

So, on my 19th birthday I had more fresh air and physical activity than in the past year put together. By the time we'd washed up after our meal, I was exhausted. Jacob seemed to realize that and he got out the thin self-inflatable mattress he'd made me buy. It was only about an inch thick, but seemed fairly comfortable. I brushed my teeth, got in the tent and closed the zip. I stripped down and checked myself for ticks, then put on a clean T-shirt and boxers and crawled into my sleeping bag. I was asleep within minutes and never noticed Jacob getting inside the tent with me. When I woke the next morning, he was already up and preparing breakfast. It seemed to be a sunny day.

When I sat up, a groan escaped my lips. I was so sore! My arms were aching from paddling, my legs from walking, and my back from sleeping on the ground. I managed to crawl out of the sleeping bag and put some shorts, socks and sandals on. As I left the tent and crabbed my way over to the log, where we'd sat for our evening meal, I uttered some more moans. My evil cousin just grinned. "Something wrong, Russell? You feeling a bit worn out?" I glared at him and mumbled something nasty about fucking crazy Danes with stupid plans. To my surprise Jacob got up and moved behind me.

I tensed a bit when his hands landed on my shoulders and he started rubbing them. But the massage felt so good and I guess I was so unused to casual kindness or TLC that I just sort of melted whenever Jacob showed his considerate side. "I'm sorry if I pushed you too much yesterday, Russell. But we'll stay here for a couple of days, and just relax and only go for short trips." With a final pat on my shoulder he went over to the small camp fire, and soon we were eating hard boiled eggs and rugbrød (rye bread) together with a couple of sausages left over from last night and huge mugs of sweet tea.

The next few days were calm and unremarkable, but somehow never boring. Jacob always knew interesting things about the nature around us, and he'd point out birds or identify plants and trees I'd never seen before. Or at least didn't remember seeing before. Whenever thoughts of my last visit popped into my head, I felt the familiar black mood descend on me. But unlike at home, where I could mope for hours, I was soon distracted, either by Jacob's voice or the turn of the river opening up a new view, as we paddled downstream past the town of Silkeborg on the third day.

At one point we went along a patch of trees which looked strange. They were still naked, but unlike some of the other unflushed trees we'd seen, this part of the wood seemed different. Maybe because some of the trees near the river were clearly dead. Two trunks had fallen over, and I spotted a woodpecker busy with digging out something from one of the standing dead trees. I turned in the canoe to get Jacob's attention and pointed at the forest. "What kind of trees are they? Are they just really late in coming out?"

The expression on my cousin's face was a strange mixture of amusement and regret. Sort of like he knew something funny and the joke was on me, but then he turned serious and actually steered the canoe over to the bank so he could explain. "They're ash trees, and yes they flush very late in spring just as the oaks do." I nodded, because I remembered how he'd shown me a group of old oaks in the forest on one of our walks. "But the reason they look strange and half dead is because they're sick. My dad told me there's this new disease which is decimating ash trees all over Europe. It's a bit like Dutch Elm Disease, except this fungus doesn't kill the trees directly, unless they're just small plants."

Jacob pointed up in crowns of the ashes. "The ash dieback fungus kills all the young twigs and then the trees make new shoots from the older branches or even from the stem. That's why they have all those long shoots standing straight up from the branches." Now that he'd explained, I could see that the bushy appearance of the tree tops was part of the reason I'd found them strange looking. And I could see that some of them had twigs coming out from the trunk, making them look slightly fuzzy. Many of the youngest trees were clearly dead, the bark cracking or falling off.

Jacob scowled at the forest and shook his head. "Most of the Danish foresters are going crazy, trying to cut the ash trees and sell the timber before it loses its value. But this stand is probably a protected ash habitat, so they can't log it. Or maybe it's just too wet and difficult for loggers to handle. Anyway, my dad says that outside the forests, ash trees also get sick but most of them can probably live for a long time with the disease. There's some biological reason for that, but I'm not sure what it is."

He shrugged and looked at me to see if I was getting bored, but as usual I found the subject fascinating. I may not want to run around outside and do all sorts of physical stuff, but I liked to watch nature programs and read about it. "I remember reading about this bug which has gotten into ash trees on the east coast. They are spending millions trying to get rid of it. It's called ehm..." I wrinkled my brow trying to recall the name, but all that came to mind was this picture of a bright green insect and the abbreviation EAB. But apparently Jacob knew what I was thinking off.

"You mean Emerald Ash Borer?" At my nod, he scowled again. "Yeah, my dad has talked about it too. Apparently we don't have it in Europe yet, except it's present around Moscow, and the Russians aren't doing enough to eradicate it. So the beetle is making its way west. And of course there's always the risk of having it introduced directly from Asia in spite of the trade regulations and rules that are meant to prevent that." Jacob looked like he was getting pretty agitated now, and I suddenly realized we'd managed to get into a matter he cared about.

He must have guessed from my face that I wanted to know more. Which I did, in a way, but actually it was also because I enjoyed watching him get all animated and almost emotional. In the few days we'd spent together, Jacob had been calm and considerate, but somehow also a bit remote and apprehensive. As if he was waiting for me to either yell at him or take the initiative in talking. Well, Evan might, but even before we began living different lives, I'd never been comfortable with approaching people or starting conversations. I doubt anyone noticed, since my twin and I were a matched set, and he always got me included in the fun. Until I got sick...

All of this was part of the random thoughts popping up in the back of my head as I listened to Jacob ranting about the danger of 'invasive species'. I almost giggled at the first thing which came to mind, the sort of sci-fi alien invaders devastating Earth and killing innocent humans. But I soon realized thathumans were the bad guys here. "You know how people worry about global warming and the consequences like more hurricanes or higher sea levels? Well, the real threats to nature and biodiversity aren't climate changes, but global trade, travel, and too many humans." I looked at him with incomprehension; what did that have to do with the invasion subject?

Jacob went on with explaining how most animals, plants, insects and diseases that were invasive got moved from one continent to another because of international trade. Often it was ornamental plants, but also in wood packaging around all kinds of goods. "There're control measures to prevent this, but implementing them costs money for the production places. We're focused on buying as cheap as possible, and one easy way to be competitive on prices is to cut corners on safety. Usually work place safety but also things like heat treatment of wood or inspection of plants before export." I suddenly remembered a small headline about a factory in China catching fire and lots of workers dying because the emergency exits had been deliberately locked. Scary stuff.

Jacob dug out two cans of coke and some snacks which we shared as he told me stories about invasive species. Mostly how humans had wrecked a lot of damage on nature by introducing plants or animals either deliberately or by accident, without realizing the consequences before it was too late. Some of the examples like the cane toad in Australia had me laughing about the stupidity of man, in spite of the inherent biodiversity disaster which wasn't funny at all. I noticed that whenever Jacob made me laugh or react strongly to his tales, his face lit up with a grin or he'd look pleased. When we continued down the river, he seemed more relaxed and happy in my company.

It reminded me of my mum's advice from one of the few times I'd admitted hating socializing. "Don't worry about not being talkative like Evan. Just ask questions about their interests. People love a good listener." As we arrived at the camping site that afternoon, Jacob told me we were close to the bog where the Grauballe Man was found. "He's in a museum in Aarhus, maybe we'll have a chance to go and see him." I wrinkled my nose, not really sure whether I wanted to see the prehistoric corpse of a human sacrifice. But once again Jacob's skills and enthusiasm in telling a story captivated me. He really did go out of his way to try and keep me amused, and I found myself wondering why.

Not that I didn't appreciate being distracted from the events that had brought me here. Anything which kept my mind from dwelling on my father's probable anger at me running away, speculating on what Evan had done, or worry about how my mum was dealing with the situation, made me grateful. But none of it made sense. When we lay in the tent that night I decided to ask him. "Jacob, I appreciate you're doing this, but why?" We had a torch hanging from the tent pole and I could see his confused face. "I mean I'm sure you've better things to do than take some distant relative camping. Like be with your friends or something."

Somehow his smile was sad, or maybe the shadows cast by the light made me imagine things. "Before your mum called, I was going to work most of the summer, to save up for a trip abroad in the fall." He held up his hand to stop me from apologizing. "She's compensating me for the money I'm losing, but this isn't about money. I'd have done it no matter what. Though getting paid to do what I like for a holiday for weeks is cool. Don't you understand, Russell? I owe you. I'd do anything to make up for what happened last time you were here."

I stared at him, numb with shock, as a couple of tears ran down his face. "What do you mean?"

He frowned and sniffed. "Don't you remember? I was the one who took you and Evan on a hiking trip on Bornholm that summer. I forgot to warn you about the ticks and the risk of TBE. Evan and I dumped our clothes and took a swim in the sea when we got back. But you didn't and when the itching made you notice the two ticks some hours later, it was too late. You were already infected. Fucking hell Russell, you nearly died, and it was entirely my fault!" Jacob buried his face in his hands and cried.

Suddenly, it was like our roles were reversed. The handsome, confident man, who'd been in charge of me, was reduced to a sobbing wreck, haunted by remorse and guilt I didn't even recall. It would be so easy to blame him and hate him for the months I'd spent bedridden and weak. For the lost chance of being with Evan, beinglike my twin brother in high school, instead of the pale washed-out shadow with a slight limp, a duller wit, and the remains of a heart flutter, which emerged from rehab nine months later. The doctors had assured me that the aftereffects of my initial TBE and the subsequent complications due to a later infection would eventually go away.

The last of my biannual checkups at the start of my senior year confirmed that I was back to normal health, but it was too late by then. I was boring, overweight, introverted, unattractive, shy and moody. I managed to stay out of PE, because my year had already been planned, and I saw no reason to try to catch up with Evan. It would never happen anyway. I suddenly heard my own voice, distant and cold. "So you're just taking care of me out of pity, then?" Jacob's head jerked up and his gaze was so heated, I recoiled.

"Fuck no Russell. The summer I spent with you, Evan and Kristin was wonderful. Most of my real cousins are much older, because my mum is twelve years younger than her next sibling. So you guys were like the first cousins I'd ever had, and we had great fun. Until you got sick just a week before you were going home. Right after your dad had come over to join you. I only got to see you in hospital a few times, before they flew you back home." I suddenly recalled a vague image of Jacob's face hovering next to mine, his voice saying words that escaped my memory.

I knew that my father left first with Evan and Kristin, who had to go back to school and college. My mum stayed for an extra month, until I was out of my coma and stable enough to endure the ten hour flight home. Even though we'd been going first class and I'd had a bed, it still set me back. The stress of the trip may have been the reason I got the second infection a week after arrival. In any case none ofthat was Jacob's fault, and I knew enough about my whole health issue to realize my prolonged journey back to normal was as much a result of the secondary problem as the TBE.

So I shared this with Jacob, and it turned out he'd never been told the full story. He still felt guilty about the ticks, and I realized why he'd been so adamant that I check myself at night in the privacy of the tent, before getting in the sleeping bag. I was now immune to TBE of course but there're other tick borne diseases. I just thought it was another sign of his caring manner, like the way he insisted on lots of sun screen for my pale skin. We talked half the night, and when I woke the next morning it was like some deep wound inside me had started to heal.

The next four weeks were awesome. We decided to go back to Silkeborg and store the canoes at the camping site, while we went biking. Jacob rented two mountain bikes, helmets and shoes, and taught me now to ride the forest trails. On the third day when I was recuperating from saddle sores (in spite of us having the proper padded trousers), Jacob loaded his bike in the canoe, paddled it to the rental place and rode his bike back. The guy was an amazing specimen of male fitness. When we tired of cycling we caught the train west and ended up at the coast. It was an incredible place of endless, wide beaches, huge waves, and open sky.