Life at the Brook – a narration (part 7)

in #story6 years ago

My home is Carinthia, more precisely, the valley of the river Gail. I grew up in the sixties and seventies in a simple family home on the mill brook, in Hermagor, a tiny town fringed by mountains in the Alps, where the smaller river Gössering merges into the Gailtal valley with the dreaded river Gail. My episodes "Life at the Brook" are about my nature-related memories.

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Life at the Brook (part 7)

Further tests of courage

Yes, the visit to the old stonemason, who gave us a booklet with gold leaf, was a harmless test of Gerli's courage.

The Jump

Gerli was a very dainty, sinewy girl who was even more athletic than me.
Once again, the snowfalls did not want to end in one winter. At that time, one to two meters of snow at fresh snow were not uncommon in our valley. In the mountains it snowed, without exaggeration, many times as much snow as on the Nassfeld, nowadays known as an extensive ski region. This amount of snow meant a lot of snow removal for our parents. We children would play in the snow and had fun.

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One day after school I was with my schoolmate Gerli. Together with me, she climbed onto the slightly slanted garage roof, which is. right beside her parents' house, and persuaded me to jump into the snow-covered garden. Of course I didn't want to appear cowardish and jumped. I almost suffocated because none of us thought that we little girls would get stuck in the deep snow!

The snow height in the garden of Gerli's family must have been about 170 cm in this record winter in the garage area. I collapsed and almost suffocated... It was only with great difficulty and hardship that I was able to free myself from the predicament. Gerli had stayed on the roof and shouted to me with encouragement. But the guilty conscience seemed to plague her after all. She helped me to get rid of the snow before I got too wet. Of course, we never told our parents a word of our misdeeds.

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The beech

Gerli's idea of climbing up a high beech tree on a steep slope on a sunny late summer's day also turned out to be less refined one. Also in this case I wanted to believe Gerli (who proved all kinds of sporty skills) that it was easy to climb on this strong tree with its smooth bark. She showed it to me, jumped down and shouted, "And now it's your turn!"

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I obeyed to not be considered cowardly and unsportsmanlike. From below, Gerli encouraged me to venture a little higher up. All this went quite well until the moment I decided to climb down and to look down.

From above, Gerli looked so small and everything seemed threatening. No way, I thought you'd never come down there again!

In this desperate situation, I cried big tears on the tree and she cried below me. But if I could learn something from Gerli, it was her positive thinking and her persuasiveness. She recaptured herself and began to give me instructions on how a coach can help his athlete to be trained.

She managed to guide me to a strong branch below me, on which I slid centimetre by centimetre closer to the slope until I dared to jump. Untouched, I landed in the soft foliage.

Well, climbing was never my case and I don't think it will be!

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Cycling

This young lady had something of a lightheartedness that fascinated me. I didn't have the courage to just chat with someone or to try something new, like she did. And i had nothing of her nonchalance to deal with mistakes, either. Then, I took everything to heart.

I think my girlfriend has contributed a lot to my reprogramming! In later life I often found myself in situations like those provoked by my classmate, and I endured them much better. Maybe that's why I never felt as helpless as many other women do sometimes. It took many more years until I understood that this helplessness could be played for tactical reasons. But it's like that and not mine.

But I also owe Gerli's carelessness to a piece of memory that remains with me for a lifetime.

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And this is how it happened...

Cycling was commonplace with us. The little ones got a children's bicycle with supports. When they became safer, the support wheels were removed. Since bicycles don't grow with you, as everyone knows, the bike was exchanged for a bigger one and later for an even bigger one.

We also practiced freehand driving. It went without saying for me. I just hunted down and felt all heroic. At that time, we didn't use BMX bikes or mountain bikes, but we explored the possibilities we had and flashed over rough and smooth. Therefore I was a agile, fast and experienced cyclist.

The bicycle accident

The only problem was that Gerli and I loved to race along the brook, along the alley or through the park. Once it happened. During a failed turning manoeuvre on the gravel road, our bicycles only touched for a short time, but this collision had its consequences.

A violent jolt! The rest happened in a flash. Gerli was able to free herself and drove on. I fell with full force on the light gravel with its pointed stones.

At first I was concerned only with my bike. Nothing noticeable had happened to the robust black thing. But then I discovered that I was bleeding, pretty much. On the left palm of my hand I had a gaping wound in which sand and stones were stuck. I tried to clean it up and was slightly shocked.

In our first-aid lessons, we had learned to hold up the arm in case of a hand injury, so that the pressure is reduced. But when I looked at my left hand, the injury looked disturbing. At least not like something that heals fast.

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Animalistic

My fear of "confessing" this misfortune to my parents was immense. So what to do? Gerli felt jointly responsible for me, as always during our manoeuvres.

Now I have to mention that her father was a veterinarian. So... Gerli, daughter of a veterinarian, had a plan. Once again, she struck this typical tone of conviction:"You're coming with me now! I know Daddy's got something like this, like a cattle spray, he sprays it on the cows' fur and then the wound closes."

There was no one in her family's house. Gerli acquired the praised spray in the room where her Dad would treat small animals medically. We cleaned the wound, not very carefully, but at least. Then the spray was used, and to my horror, the substance that lay over my wound was of dark purple color and stuck to the skin like rubber.

Still dazed, I pushed the bike home. There was nothing to hide: my relatives saw the wound, which had been treated by veterinarian means, and hammered their hands over their heads.

I don't remember exactly what happened next. Today I know that the wound should have been sutured. Perhaps that was no longer possible in this glued state.

I walked around with a bandage for five weeks and was of course free from gymnastics. When it was removed, there was an unshapely reddened scar, about three centimeters in diameter. Over time it faded and became flattened. The scar never affected me. It's a souvenir to me. And also a proof that I was once a wild child, which snapped along with a bike that was much too big, as if there were no tomorrow, as one would say.

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A snow and ice paradise

Once more a bit about our winters...

The brook in front of the house made clearing the snow much easier. The house owners got rid of the new snow by shovelling or pushing it into the waters.

But the brook still had some more good. In my elementary school years the abundance of water made it possible for me to have a private ice-skating rink in the garden.

I loved dancing. In summer I dreamed of becoming a ballerina. In winter I watched the ice-dancers on television (at that time still black and white TV!) and was fond of this sport.

With boards an area was created and bucket by bucket water was taken from the mill brook. The disposal of the snow and the removal of the water - no one had anything against it at that time. The whole family helped together to create and maintain the small skating rink.

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My realm

The skating rink in our garden, that was my kingdom! My mother even sewed me a short bell-shaped little dress made of a solid fabric, surrounded by white furry material. I also wore thick, thick woollen tights and an anorak. Here I was allowed to be an "ice princess", tried to imitate some of the twists and jumps I had seen on television, even though the ice surface was tiny. It was my stage for me. In my imagination, I heard the jury give away their points.

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I was not admired by a large audience, but only by two or three mighty snowmen with real coal eyes and real carrot noses decorating the skating rink.

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At the sports field of Hermagor there was also a huge ice skating rink, where young and old alike could play.
If the weather conditions were suitable, the nearby Lake Presseggersee could become an ice paradise, which by far exceeded the artificially created place, but was much more difficult to drive on.

Every now and then my family drove to the famous Weissensee in the neighbouring district, which was discovered years ago by the Dutch for ice races and immortalized in a James Bond chase.

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Tunnelling

I already mentioned my snow tunnel ditch briefly and told them that I had dug a small cave for myself. But my declared aim was a real labyrinth. As I played as an only child most of the time, I had hours of time to put on my gears consistently. But no helpers. It all has two sides. So my labyrinth turned out to be no big deal, but as we all know, the path is the destination.

The winter equipment wasn't as sophisticated as it is today. There were no water-repellent and breathable textiles. So I always ended up heated, soaked, and sometimes half frozen. But it was beautiful!

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End of part 7!

From here on, there is no longer a word about winter and about ice and snow!

Next time it's all about summer fun and my initially unloved pet.

We also leave the brook and go for a while to the neighbouring settlement. During my last visit to Hermagor, I took special photos already.

I hope there was something inspiring for you again!

As always, I am looking forward to your feedback!

Previously published articles in this series:

(GER)
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 1 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach--eine-erzaehlung-1
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 2 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-2
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 3 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-erinnerungen-3
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 4 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-4
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 5 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-5
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 6 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-teil-6
Leben am Bach - eine Erzählung 7 https://steemit.com/deutsch/@martinamartini/leben-am-bach-eine-erzaehlung-teil-7

(EN)
Life at the Brook (narration, part 1) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-narration-part-1
Life at the Brook (narration, part 2) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-narration-part-2
Life at the Brook (narration, part 3) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-narration-3
Life at the Brook (narration, part 4) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-a-narration-part-4
Life at the Brook (narration, part 5) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-a-narration-part-5
Life at the Brook (narration, part 6) https://steemit.com/story/@martinamartini/life-at-the-brook-a-narration-part-6

Story in a raw and uncorrected version here:

https://reflexionen.wordpress.com/erzahlungen/erdachtes/erlebtes/muehlbach-stocksteinerwand/

Der Weißensee | The Lake Weissensee

(EN)
https://www.weissensee.com/en/the-lake/the-lake/
https://bond-and-beyond.blogspot.co.at/p/welcome-to-austria-007-locations-of-ice.html
https://www.weissensee.com/en/natureislauf/speed-skating/
https://www.weissensee.com/en/information/naturpark-weissensee/
https://www.weissensee.com/en/the-lake/fishing/fishing-at-lake-weissensee

(GER)
http://www.weissensee-naturpark.at/?p=66
https://www.weissensee.com/de/natureislauf/natureislauf/
https://www.meinbezirk.at/hermagor/lokales/james-bond-am-weissensee-d936272.html
https://www.kurzurlaub.at/magazin/oesterreich/kaernten/weissensee/james-bond-und-der-weissensee.html
http://www.kleinezeitung.at/kaernten/oberkaernten/4646633/Der-Hauch-des-Todes_Aufwaermen-mit-James-Bond-am-Weissensee
http://www.eislaufen-weissensee.at/news/lesen/4201/die-hollaendischen-wochen-am-weissensee.html
http://www.kleinezeitung.at/kaernten/5354064/Weissensee_ElfStaedteTour-der-Hollaender-ist-gesichert

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Amazing landscape!!!

Thank you! I like your landscape photography!

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