Six Feet Under

In my post ‘By Cycle Gymnastics’ I mentioned my route to the tram terminus through the forest and my contact with a wooden pole. What I didn’t mention was that my route also went through a graveyard. I could have gone by another route but this shortcut between the graves saved me 10 minutes on my journey.

The problem is, it’s not allowed. Well you’re allowed of course to walk through the graveyard but not ride. If I wanted to ride though I just had to make sure I didn’t get caught by the caretaker or other grave digging staff. I would check for any visible activity at the front gate. If it was dead quiet then open and enter still sitting on me bike, ride through to the back gate open and close from the saddle and ride like the wind off into the sunset forest. I rarely had to take the long way round.
If I did ride through the graveyard it was usually the same route unless I saw someone looking after a grave or if there was a burial and then I would either get off and walk pass or take an alternative route.

The cemetery grew.
Now and then new names would appear on wooden crosses stuck into temporary mounds of lose dirt and covered with freshly cut flowers with text covered ribbons. Over time this would turn into permanent engraved stone fixtures with patches of hardy evergreen plants needing a minimum of looking after.

My work at the time was having to setting up and carrying out experiments that could take up to 12 hours or more. On some days that would mean I would be homebound in the dark. Day time was no problem one could see well enough. A cross country slalom between graves was not necessary the paths were wide enough. With a certain amount of routine I could get up to speed so that the riding time in the forbidden zone could be kept to a minimum.

With riding through at night, the only light was from my rather dim light bulb and a whining dynamo, not you’re blinding LEDs of today. There were of course in the cemetery quite a number of grave lights. They gave an eerie illumination and only helped for orientation by acting like airport runway positioning lights, in this case red not blue.

Well one night after a long dreary day, the rain had finally abated and so I decided to make for home. The sky was still overcast and everything just damp with patches of ground mist drifting about..
[Ed: That with the mist, you’re making it up!]
No I’m not! On most days in early autumn there is evening mists. The day was, and was about to be atmospheric enough without fabrications on top..

I entered the back gate of the graveyard and made my way towards the distant street lights and the front gate. I didn’t expect to meet anyone this late so I took this time a more direct route.

After a while I realised that somehow I had taken a wrong turning. I was very tired and probably got distracted thinking about bed.
I thought it was a bit funny that there was less grave lights around.
I knew there was an area at the back of the crematory that was booked for new comers. As far as I could see in the dim light I was riding towards it.
No matter I knew roughly where I was and..

 .. the next moment I realised I was going 'up' ! I pondered on this 'up' a while and came to the conclusion that there shouldn’t be any 'ups' around here. Just as I had finished processing that bit of information I realised I was now going 'down'!
I decided to focus on the ground under me and could just see what looked like grass but up front I saw nothing, just a black void. Interesting I thought, against the faint background glow this void had well defined straight edges ..
Dam! I realised where I was and what would happen next so I tried to swerve away from straight ahead.
Too abrupt, the bike lost its hold and it slid from under me throwing me backwards onto the mound. The only thing going through my mind at that point was what was going through the mind of the deadly nuclear missile launched from Magrathea as it turned into a bowl of petunias due to the Heart of Gold’s Improbability drive..
'Oh no. Not again!'
[Ed: Magrathea is a planet resembles a company. It was created in the 1960s and has a population of around two billion mice (see THGTTG).]

I applied the one practical thing I had learnt from my salto in ‘By Cycle Gymnastics’; I jettisoned the bike by letting go of the handlebars. As the bike slithered on and disappeared into the void, I did my dammedist to lay as flat as possible and clutch at the wet grass under me. The weird thing was although I wasn’t moving that fast I just could not get a hold or dig my heels in. It was like sliding on ice. The next moment I was falling, as I was roughly feet first I braced myself for the landing, hoping not to get tangled up in the bike which was I suspected waiting for me.

After what seemed like ages I made contact surprisingly with the ground and not the bike. The impact shook me up a bit and out of reflex I let my legs decide to give way and I ended up squatting down in the limited space available.
I took in the atmosphere: deep, dark and damp.
I started immediately to grope around for the bike. It was just next to me as if I had parked it there. I used it to help me stand up, shaking somewhat as I did so.
If this was what I thought it was, and if the location, shape, size and negative height to ground level was anything to go by, ‘it’ was what I thought it was. Then this meant I was in deep trouble.
I started to slowly panic with the situation I found myself in. Although I was at that moment ‘six feet under’, I had no intention of ending up ‘pushing up daises’ without having the chance to give up my veto.

As I stood there to my surprise I could look out over the top! I noticed the mound I had ridden over and slid down was not covered in grass, but what looked like a green carpet with a grassy like texture. Something typically used at burials to stop mourners sinking into the dirt and afterwards leaving muddy footprints all over the floor at the funeral reception. It was no wonder I could not get a hold and dig my heels in – wet plastic!
As my eyes slowly became accustomed to the new dark shade of gloom, I realised under foot that the bottom of the grave was somewhat uneven and as I could look out, not as deep as it should be.
There could only be one reason for this - it was unfinished!
The grave digger had stopped for the night and if I didn’t get out of here under my own steam he would be the first person I would see in the morning!
He would get a right shock when approaching and hearing from the grave that was probably scheduled to be occupied later that day 'Hi! Thanks for dropping by, I seem to be having a problem getting out of here '..
[Ed: You could add 'I want a second opinion!']
?..
Ok, maybe I was able to look over the top, but in my condition and from where I stood, I was not going to scramble out that lightly. I could just about take hold of, with-stretched arms, the green carpet that ended on the edge of the grave, it seemed like it would hold me but I had no possible leverage, therefore no chance. I needed to get up higher.
I sat on the bike’s crossbar and pondered a while in the dark.

Have you ever come across or experienced the following situation ...
[Ed: Off again..]
I need time to panic and ponder, so let me..

… You are looking all over the place for your reading glasses (or equivalent) and they are all the time perched up on your forehead?
I have another variation; I was standing by the car and started to look for the key. I checked all the pockets on my left side and then the pockets on the right also back pockets etc. No luck, I was just about to start again on the left when I noticed I was just about to transfer the car key from my left hand to the right so as to have the left free to search. I must have been doing this the whole time!

I pondered on and I finally woke up to the fact that I was sitting on the possible solution to my predicament. I didn’t have much choice and it could work.

I changed positions with the bike by scrambling over it, propped it up against the side of the grave and stood on the pedal to see if the bike would sink in or not with my full weight. Luckily it held. I then grabbed the end of the green carpet with both hands and kicked about wildly until I had climbed/pulled myself up and had one foot then the other on the crossbar of the bike.

I was now almost at waist level to the ground. I paused, steadied myself and waited until I got my breath back. I wasn’t sure if I could take another uncontrolled fall again, so I planned the next move slowly and carefully.
With what I could see, the green carpet was covering the complete mound of dirt extracted from the grave. I assumed that it was there to stop the earth being washed away by the heavy rain over the day. As it was large there was a good chance that there would be enough traction to allow me to put myself out without it budging.
As it had held while struggling getting up onto the crossbar of the bike it should help me for the next stage. I started to roll up the end of the carpet so I could have a better hold and some leverage.

I went for it; I tugged and tugged kicking and wriggling like mad. I realised I only had one chance. I would probably not have enough energy to keep at it all night. With this thought I spurred myself on and as I was franticly thrashing about like a fish out of water, I realised I was lying flat on the ground not half in and out of the grave as before.
I stopped moving and just lay there panting and waiting. Waiting to see if I would slide back into the void or not. I realised I was still tightly holding on to the carpet. I slowly manoeuvred myself towards the end of the grave, having at lease one handhold on it all the time. I finally was able to get up, a little unsteady, but I was standing.
I moved away from the grave and at a safe distance breathed a sigh of relief.
I checked for abrasions, cuts and torn clothes. That I was totally covered in dirt head to toe and soggy to boot didn’t really bother me.
I was so glad I was out of that hole. But my gladness was short lived. I was out of the void, but me bike was still waiting to be rescued.

Now how the h*** was I going to get it out!
I had no intention of hanging over the edge and trying to put it out, with my luck I would probably slip in this time headfirst.
No deal.
I had no idea what to do …
This was getting silly. I looked around as much as the gloom allowed. There was nothing, no grave digging tools, nothing.
[Ed: must have been somewhere ..]
Exactly!

If the gravedigger could get in and out of the grave, then so could I. I just hoped the ladder or whatever he used was not locked up.
My bike wasn’t going anywhere for the moment so I wondered off in I hoped the direction towards the caretaker’s tool shed.
On my way I kept looking back to see where I was coming from and forward making sure I didn’t fall into any other unsecured dugout holes.

Eventually the shed loomed up before me; at least I knew where I was at last. I was contemplating about walking home (only five minutes away) and if necessary coming back with my own ladder in case I couldn’t find one here. I then thought better of it, the last thing I wanted was a nosy neighbour asking me in the morning “and what where you doing out late last night with a ladder over your shoulder?” With my luck for the following next six months there would be a knock at the door concerning inquires every time there was a burglary in the area. No thank you.
I could go home and come back in the morning to claim back me bike. Again not a good idea. Even if I got there early before ‘opening time’, I would have to answer questions and there could be possible consequences to boot.

No, I needed to do what I could now to get away from here and forget it all. I circled the shed and there at the back was a ladder hanging on the wall. Before letting out my second sigh of relief that night I checked if it was chained to the wall or not (you never know). Luck was with me, it wasn’t. Next I still had to see if it could be removed, no problem it was lightweight aluminium.
I then, for the first time in what seemed like half the night, allowed myself to smile with relief. As my stress factor when down I let out a little chuckle which turned into a bout of heavy coughing.
[Ed: loud enough to wake the dead?]
No, I was as silent as the grave.
It was a dry cough.
[Ed: ?]

I wasn’t finished by a long chalk, but I saw a good chance that me and my bike would be heading home together. With the ladder under my arm I moved as fast as I could back to the grave. On arrival I was glad to see that there had been no grave bike robbers at work!
I lowered the ladder into the grave. Checked for stability and slowly went down just enough to grab the handlebars and start up again pulling for what it’s worth. I had no intention of going down any further than necessary. With a finial effort I heaved the bike up onto the ground and then dedicated both hands to climbing up the last two steps to join it. As the exit was next to the shed, I placed the ladder on the bike and back we went.
I hanged the ladder on the wall and headed for home.
For some reason I slept very late.

For the next few days I took the long route to work. Of course I was curious how the area looked in daylight to compare to my night impression. But I was a little wary. I didn’t want to meet anyone with forensic abilities that could put 2&2 together and make a connection between me, my bike and the marks at the scene of the crime. Sometime later I did search for the grave. It was by this time occupied.
I stopped and as I looked down, I recalled the day (or in this case night) and a thought came to mind..
'Rest in peace, and by the way I’m not totally in the dark about how it looks like down there from your present point of view'.