“How close are we?” called out a winded Sam.
“Just around the next bend,” Billy replied, obviously having made this climb before. A shaft of sunlight at the end of a mossy green wall beckoned. Chipmunks darted across the steep rocky trail. As the vista slowly appeared, all four felt a mix of relief and awe. They were alone on a granite cliff, hundreds of feet above the river, with a vista as far as the eye could see. Hawks drifted in clouds below them.
“Fantastico!” exhaled Lupe. They reclined on the stony overhang. No one spoke, the only sounds being their heavy breathing, a distant boat engine, crickets. An owl’s call rippled across the vast valley. The river snaked for miles. A freight train lumbered along tracks parallel to the river, then veered off in a straight line to the horizon. Graciela had no idea places like this existed, and only hours from El Puente. She marveled at her state’s diversity.
“The Sauk Nation had a major fishing village right over there,” Billy said, pointing to a clump of trees in the river’s bend. “They ruled the valley for a century. Built the first fish-farms. Traded clams and mussels for seeds, textiles. Blazed a network of trails throughout the area…one went all the way to what’s now Jackson City! They had a regional economy. Until another civilization - the Santee - came along and pushed the Sauk into oblivion.”
“Muscle beats mussels. That’s politics,” Sam offered.
“Ha! Yep, politics.” Billy knew that politics was brutal, with victorious forces often annihilating or absorbing the losers.
“What’s that area over there,” Graciela asked, pointing to a distinctive, bright sandy beach in a horseshoe-shaped cove about a mile away.
“Used to be the mouth of a creek. Abernathy Creek. But the river’s changed courses so many times, Abernathy just dried up and filled in, except for that cove. Now it’s just Abernathy Cove,” Billy said with some sadness. “And that stream over there didn’t even exist just ten years ago.”
They all could see where the river had indeed changed course, thanks to geologic forces and Podesta’s dam. Tree stumps stood defiantly in ten feet of water where recent flooding had boosted water to new highs.
“So, Mister Chairman, you get up here often?” Lupe asked.
“As much as possible. My favorite spot. It’s a great place to relax or just think.”
“What do you think about way up here?” Graciela asked flirtatiously.
“Politics, of course,” Billy grinned.
“What? Man, how can you think of politics up here?” Sam laughed.
“The forces of nature,” Billy said.
“Yeah, like how?”
“Springs, streams, creeks. They all eventually flow into the river,” Billy said, gazing out from their perch. Same as politics. Forces surge, then subside. Some just dry up, like Abernathy Creek over there. Some coalesce into floods...”
His description of politics jarred Graciela. Maybe she had been too close, too immersed in the day-to-day of government and politics to see it in such a lyrical light. She turned to Billy. “So, what are these forces that become creeks or floods?”
“Podesta is. Calvin Reynolds was. You are. I am.”
Perhaps it was the steep climb or thin air, but this revelation was a laser beam epiphany for Graciela. “The winners are the floods and losers are Abernathy Creek,” she said.
“Something like that,” Billy smiled.
“And where does this flood end up?” Sam asked.
Billy sat up, back erect, staring out over the misty valley. The crickets quieted.
“Well, I’ve always thought these forces end up in the State Capitol. They merge with other streams and floods and pick up steam and flow straight into the Capitol Building from all across this state,” Billy said, almost dreamily. “They come crashing and splashing through the big bronze doors, and swirl ‘round and ‘round, faster ‘n faster under that big old golden dome, with the shafts of sunlight pourin’ through, until everything's mixed together in a cosmic milk shake and comes out consensus, laws, dynasties. Dams.”
That notion, of streams rising to a head in a great social waterspout under the Capitol Dome, just hung in the rarified air high above the river. Graciela was learning new things every day about this complex state and Billy’s vision framed it just right in her mind.
“Whew,” Sam whistled softly. “Cosmic milk shake, huh?"
“Just gotta know how to navigate, eh, Mister Chairman?” Lupe said.
“Just navigation,” Billy grinned, pleased with his spontaneous soliloquy which had clearly hit home with Graciela, Sam and Lupe.
The four of them sat quietly for awhile, listening to a hawk’s cry, watching the sun turn fiery orange as it edged to the horizon. From their perch, the river had become a brilliant copper-hued snake, winding through the lush green valley into distant haze.
“Well, enough philosophy,” Billy said, pulling two bottles of wine and a corkscrew from his backpack. “Here’s to the Sauk. Cheers!”