The Road to Paradise Pocket

“Come now little one, under your covers you go” A booming voice sounded throughout a dimly lit rustic cabin.

Tiny feet began thumping a few rooms over as the large gray man sat on a bedside stool and gazed out into the blowing snow outside. It had been snowing for days now, another day and his view of the outside may begin to obscure. He could hear the wind breaking now though, not as harsh and powerful as it had been the day before, his vision a few yards further, and the sun a hair brighter that afternoon. Yes it would break by morning, the snow would stop and the sun would cast its warm healing rays over the tiny frozen town.

“When can I go back outside?” a small voice squeaked from beside him.

His granddaughter was anxious to stretch her legs and get a lung full of fresh air, to see her friends again, and they no doubt were all sitting in their rooms now dreaming of the very same things.

“Soon little one, as early as tomorrow morning I reckon” he replied, a small smirk cracking his weathered face, “the sooner you close your eyes, the sooner you’ll find out”.

“But I’m not tired” she squeaked back at him as she sprawled out onto her small bed.

“Aye, I suppose we could have a story” He said reluctantly, knowing he owed her at least that much, “the tale of Olé One Eye perhaps”.

“I’ve heard that one a thousand times” she responded, rolling over on her elbows and looking up at him.

“Aye, but have you ever wondered how he did it?” He asked in a much lower tone.

The little girl started for a moment before going into an expectant silence, big brown eyes meeting his before she scrambled under the heavy woven blanket that swallowed her tiny mattress. Grandpa picked up a small blue stuffed pony from the floor near his foot, where it had fallen that morning. Handing her the doll she snatched it up and deposited it under the blanket with her as he began to speak.

Well you see Olé One Eye, our first founder Jacob, did build the great rails, but it was not he who laid the steel, hammered it in, or fueled the great beasts that road upon them. He merely brought together tens of thousands of us north folk, engineers, mechanics, steel workers, cooks, and even priests to take on the monumental project of leaving the Ice Plains. Your great grandfather thought him crazy like most when he proposed the idea, but every year the Great Wall grew closer, pulverizing everything it rolled over, and every year Jacob proposed once again they leave.

“I already know this part” the little girl whispered despite her eyes being wide.

“I know, I know, but do you know about Captain Harris? John the smith? Or maybe Lumber Jack?” the old man questioned.

“Lumber Jack? There's lots of lumber jacks” she said curiously.

“Aye but this one was named Jack, and we called them lumberors before that” the old man stated with a grin.

Well, you need a great many things to produce a railway a thousand miles long, and while many of those things you can get along the way, but one needs enough material to get started. At the time we barely had enough lumber to burn to keep our homes above freezing, all the coal had been distributed to the forges, we couldn’t make blankets with every piece of material going to make ropes and belts. The steel and coal were brought in through the sliver of open water we had available in the summer, Captain Harris pioneered that, but a few holds full of wood only got us by, and furthermore it stalled the entire project.

Jack and a dozen others realized picking through heaps of dead forests and traveling to the great wall to scavenge would soon enough not be viable. The took their teams, nearly a hundred men and went south in search of better opportunities, something that had not been attempted in decades. They took months of food, dozens of the strongest horses they could get their hands on and they left.

They would not be seen again for nearly a year; most assumed them dead calling them outright fools for thinking they could travel that far across the Ice Plains. Jack thought them right as well, but once in a great while the foolish desperation of a man can make him into a legend, and although he did not know it at the time that is exactly what he would become.

Half the men he left with did not return along side him, the brutal elements along the road taking their lives. By the time they had found the Paradise Pocket in the shadow of the mountains hundreds of miles to the south it had taken them too long to fill their wagons. the winter would set in before they returned, even the fool Jack knew that was a death sentence for all of them. What they found in Paradise though was game, just enough to keep them to the first weeks of spring, and that is when they made their move.

“How could they bring back enough though?” the little one asked.

“That was never the intention dear, he found it, a route that led to a forest that could sustain the entire town for decades” the old man whispered, watching her eyes light up with recognition.

She gasped quietly.

Nearly starving to death, they were spotted on the horizon on the first day of our short summer. Bells wrung and hundreds ran to the outskirts of town in disbelief, women and children crying out at the return of their husbands. By the end of the day Jack had shaken the hand of every priest, politician, and trade leader in the city. It’s said Jacob himself came to his cabin with a great feast to hear his story and show him gratitude.

It was not long before hundreds more began making their way south, laying a foundation for the next year, stashes along the way, signs directing the next group of danger, a small town was even established at the halfway point, although it’s surely been swept away by now. The tracks were not far behind now either, aimed at the pocket each day the trip got shorter, and within a few years they were loading the brand-new engine powered carts and sending them backwards to town.

For the first time in over a century there was an abundance of lumber, an abundance of warmth that couldn’t even be dreamed of until then. Jack went on with the rest, trip after trip over the icey sheets that separated them from the precious materials. You see, it was not long before prospectors and hunters joined the caravans to offer their skills to the effort. Ore and furs soon began making their way into the carts, putting the great project into overdrive.

“What happened to Jack?” the little girl questioned before giving him a heavy-lidded blink.

“Well, he made his way south with everyone else once the tracks got far enough” the old man answered as he leaned forward, placing his meaty hands on his knees.

“I hope he has a big house now” she squeaked quietly.

“Aye, me too little one, now get some sleep” he said quietly.

He stood, clicked a small lamp off before turning to the window, the winters were getting harsher it may be time to move again soon. At least this storm was nearly over he thought to himself as he gazed out over the big flakes falling slowly now.

“Jack, come now, I don’t need a cranky old man digging us out of here in the morning” an older women said quietly from the doorway, smirking before she turned and made for their room.