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It was my fourteenth birthday, the first since my father’s passing. My mom, as a “birthday surprise,” was taking my brother and me to the Mistaken Point Ecological Reserve at the southernmost tip of Newfoundland. Her favorite 70s tunes blasted on the radio in her silver compact Ford Escort as we wound our way down a twisting coastal highway.
I was obsessed with fossils, dinosaurs, and everything prehistoric, and Mistaken Point offered a chance to see some of the strangest prehistoric remains known to science. Sitting across my lap was a well-worn copy of “A Guide to Fossils of North America,” which I brought with me nearly everywhere. In the back seat, I flipped through those first ten pages on the Precambrian fauna and flora repeatedly and stared, unblinking, at the bizarrely shaped fossils on each page in an attempt to memorize each one. On these twisting coastal roads, it was an exercise in controlling motion sickness, but my excitement overrode any nausea. My reading was interrupted by a weather alert that cut off the music on the radio. A cold voice urged citizens to exercise caution on the road and stay home if at all possible. A storm was due to slam into the southern coast of Newfoundland later that evening. My mother ignored the warning. Instead, she shut off the radio and drove on in silence.
“It’s still sunny; no need to cancel this adventure just yet,” she said, though I could see the storm clouds gathering offshore. Secretly, I hoped that the weather would become dangerous so we would be forced to spend the night in the nearby village of Trepassey instead of driving back to St. John’s. If that happened, we’d get an extra day of looking for fossils.
Our mom pulled into a gravel lot just above the seaside cliffs of Mistaken Point and parked haphazardly in the middle of it because we were the only ones crazy enough to be visiting the beach while a storm warning was in effect. For centuries, these cliffs called out to sailors and pulled them off their course, dashing their ships against the frigid reefs and waterlogged crags. It was said they mistook the formations for a nearby port, and that idea eventually gave the place its name.
The sailors scrambling from their sinking vessels never noticed the strange fossils of Mistaken Point. Not that they would have known what to make of them. It wasn’t until centuries later in 1967 that Shiva Balak Misra, studying at Memorial University of Newfoundland, realized their true worth as some of the oldest complex organisms preserved in the fossil record.
I hopped out of the car and felt the instant sting on my cheeks of the brisk wind coming off the distant storm. The cutting breeze made waves through the sea of grass that encircled the parking lot. Despite the weather, I was undeterred. This was hallowed ground in my young prehistory-crazed mind.
My mother forced my brother and me into heavy coats that she kept, for occasions like these, in the trunk of the car. Then we set out for the rocky outcropping on the ocean’s edge. The sound of the ocean was soft, considering the brewing storm. Each individual wave crashed lazily, but loudly, against the gray stone cliffs. It wasn’t the roar of the sea, so much as a slow, beating, heavy drum. We followed the path to a cove that formed around a slim, rocky beach ringed by gray cliffs and made our way down the incline to the water. The storm clouds were closer but still miles offshore. My mom sat down on the first boulder we came across. She pulled out a book to read and shooed us down the beach.
Eddie followed me, ten paces behind, as I strode up the beach to the base of the cliff in search of Precambrian fossils. I put my hand against the rock face and was surprised by its coarse feel. How could something so rough preserve the delicate traces of ancient life? Then I began my search in earnest. My eyes darted up and down the cliff face as I walked along it, but I saw nothing. My brother was getting bored and began shuffling slowly in the sand. I promised him we would build a sandcastle once I found some fossils.
“With a moat?” Eddie asked.
“Sure,” I replied
“With gators?” Eddie pressed.
“There’s no gators in Canada, Eddie,” I said.
This shut him up for a moment. Honestly, even if I wanted to build a sandcastle it would be a tall order on this beach. The sand was coarse, dry, and embedded with larger stones. Hopefully, if it did come to that, a pile of rocks would suffice for a sandcastle.
We continued along the cliff face, though no fossils revealed themselves. I looked back and saw my mom as a tiny speck, so I thought about heading back, but then I spotted the perfect spot for finding fossils. Just ahead, a narrow, steep-sided ravine, about two meters wide at its start, ran into the cliff face. I walked towards it as if in a trance. At the mouth of the ravine, cold air blew outward, like the freezing breath of some ice-bound monster. My brother stuck close to my side as we walked into the ravine. Instantly, my eyes lit up. Preserved in the walls were strange shapes of Precambrian life forms. Conical, fractal, and spindly structures appeared as though carved perfectly in stone. Yet, these were no etchings made by man. These were the remains of ancient sea creatures encased in a fossilized tomb for more than 500 million years.
I thumbed through my guide, comparing the pictures in it to what I saw in the rock face. Charnia, Thectardis, and Paracharnia were all present in the ravine. I ran my hand along a specimen of Charniodiscus, a fossil that looked like the feather of an alien bird. I tried to imagine it in life, surrounded by all the other living things now set in stone in this ravine. A whole ecosystem was preserved here. Yet, the fossilization process left a lot to be desired. What marvelous colors were these species in life? How would it feel to touch them? Did they stand fast against the prehistoric waves or bend, allowing the surf to thrash them about? I tried to imagine myself as a beachgoer on this prehistoric sea, something I often did when I was that age.
Just then, the tip of the storm made landfall, sending a warning volley of light rain across the coast.
“I’m getting wet,” complained Eddie.
“Just a second,” I said, ignoring him and focusing on the rocks.
“But you promised we’d buil-,” Eddie’s whine was cut short.
Without warning, the roar of water against rock filled the air, and I spun around to see a wave crashing against the mouth of the ravine. I grabbed Eddie, pulling him along with me as I scrambled further into the ravine. I slipped my guidebook from my hand into my spacious coat pocket as I fled. The water nipped at our heels, but the wave lost most of its energy before it caught up with us. The ravine cut deep into the cliffs. Looking around the next turn, the top of the ravine was covered partially by a tree, but beneath it, I noticed the dark entrance of a cave. Another wave smacked against the front of the ravine. This time, I didn’t flee, expecting the wave to wash up at our feet. I was right; the wave stopped a foot short of us.
As the wave receded out of the ravine, I took a hold of Eddie’s hand and pulled him with me as I made an attempt to follow the water out as it receded. Unfortunately, the mouth of the ravine was already well below the rising tide, and we were pushed back by another swell of seawater. Eddie started calling out for mom, something I had not thought of yet. Still, I shushed him not only because she probably wouldn’t hear us over the surf and rain, but also because his shrill voice annoyed me. The rain was now falling in sheets, and the wind was picking up. Suddenly, the cave appeared more inviting. A tree bent by the wind into a tuckamore grew down just above where the entrance to the cave. I brushed aside a hanging branch as we entered the dark interior. A cold draft blew up from the depths of the cave. My brother and I, already soaked from the rain, shivered.
Since we were out of the rain, I began to examine the cave. The passage was about my height in diameter, and like the ravine outside, was covered in the fossilized impressions of prehistoric life. The cave was dry, which reassured me that the rising tide would not flood us. I started to worry that our mom hadn’t found us yet. Surely, she must have started looking. Even though we’d gone out of sight, I didn’t think it would take more than ten minutes to reach us. Perhaps she was hiking up to the top of the ravine to attempt to rescue us from above. Maybe it was possible to climb out of the ravine and meet her at the top. I pondered that for a moment and decided to try it.
“Eddie, I need you to wait right here, don’t move, ok? I’m going to find Mom,” I said, putting my hand on his shoulder.
Eddie nodded. I passed back through the branches of the tree and out of the cave. The sides of the ravine were slick with rainwater, but eventually I spotted a likely way up. I found a handhold just above my head and began climbing. Once I got a footing, I grabbed hold of a branch from the tree to steady myself. From there the path seemed more difficult. I reached for the next handhold, but the wet rock provided little grip, so I nearly slipped off. Being a bookworm-inclined middle schooler, my upper body strength was decidedly minimal. My arms stung as I clung to the side of the ravine, and my hands slowly lost their grip. I scanned the cliff above me, but from my vantage point there didn’t appear to be a way to the top, so I moved back down and headed to the mouth of the ravine. The tide was still coming in, threatening to fill the ravine. I considered for a moment trying to swim my way out, but decided against it.
I stormed back up the ravine, cursing under my breath. Why wasn’t anyone coming to get us? Why did I come into this damned ravine? I surveyed the rest of the ravine for a way up. I spotted a ledge just out of my reach. Perhaps Eddie, on my shoulders, could reach it.
“Eddie!” I called. No response. He always takes it literally; tell him to stay, and he won’t move, even when called. I rushed back up the ravine, ready to tell him off.
Reaching the entrance of the cave, I found it empty. Damn! Why didn’t he listen?
“EDDIE, GOD DAMN IT COME BACK HERE, I DON’T WANT TO PLAY GODDAMN HIDE AND SEEK WITH YOU!” I screamed. The words echoed into the depths of the cave.
I hesitated before going deeper into the cave. I had no flashlight and no yarn to map my way out.
“EDDIE!”
“Eddie!”
“Eddie?”
“Eddie…”
No response came. I shivered in the cave’s cold breath as I stepped further into its umbral maw. So far, the cave appeared to be a single tunnel, though it quickly faded into pitch blackness. To keep my sense of direction as I moved forward, I ran my hand against the right side of the cave. It chafed against the rough rock, but I did not dare to remove it for fear of losing my way. Each step I took was slow and calculated because a fifty-foot drop might have been a step away and I would not be able to tell. As I moved, the dry rock slowly became chalky and damper slowly turning into a heavily compressed clay.
“Eddie!” I screamed.
The cool breeze that emanated from the mouth of the cave now wafted up a scent of dirt and decay. Why the hell would Eddie run in here? He still used a nightlight. As I moved further into the cave, my right hand felt the compacted earth soften, become sticky, and ooze a thick slime. With my free hand I reached over and touched the oozing earth, bringing some of the slime up to my nose to smell it. It carried the salty odor of the sea, but also the scent of algae mixed with the muck from the bottom of a pond. I wiped the goo off onto my pants and continued down the passage. My shoes began to squelch in the soft bottom of the tunnel, and soon I was stepping through puddles, splashing water up my legs. The side of the wall continued to get softer, becoming a thick, compacted mud. One vein of ooze my fingers traced began to solidify into a gelatinous intrusion in the muddy wall. I fought the deep urge to pull my hand off the wall, for I felt as though I was touching the fetid corpse of some sea creature entombed in this thickened silt. Yet, I knew it was my only guide in this pitch-black cave. So, I gritted my teeth and continued down the passage.
I nearly tripped when my foot stepped into ankle-deep water. I took another careful step, and the water came up to my shins. With that, I decided to go back. There was no way that Eddie would have waded into that water. I turned around, placed my left hand on the wall, and headed back up the passage. Again, the tunnel became drier, and I felt carefully for the break from dirt and stone with the hope that this would help me find my bearings later. However, I couldn’t find a hard crossover, just a smooth gradient transitioning from one to the other. I squinted my eyes as I stepped back into the light.
Surmising that there must be a branch in the cave on the left side, I placed my left hand against the wall of the passage and headed back down into the dark. I felt the side of the tunnel become softer again, then gooey and oozing, but it did not turn to mud. Instead, the passage sloped upward. My hypothesis was correct; the cave had a fork that went off to the left.
“Eddie!”
“Will,” Eddie’s voice echoed faintly in the cavern. My heart raced. Eddie must have gone deep into the cave.
“Where are you?” I shouted into the darkness.
“Will,” my name echoed again through the tunnel more faintly than before. I moved forward. Eddie’s voice still echoed in the passage. His voice grew louder.
“Will! WILL! WILL.”
“Eddie!”
It sounded as though I was right next to him in the dark, but when I reached out to grab ahold of him, I found nothing. Still, his echoing voice became louder. I spun around in the dark. His voice became deafening. I fell to the ground and covered my ears. I felt my eardrums beginning to burst. Suddenly, it went silent. Warm blood trickled out of my right ear. I spasmed in pain. Then panic set in. I no longer knew which direction I faced. I was surrounded by pitch-black silence in all directions. Eddie’s voice echoed through the tunnel again, as faint as before, but now I doubted that the sound was coming from Eddie. I wanted to move, but all I could manage was to curl up into a ball. Even though it was dark, I shut my eyes tight in terror. For a moment nothing happened. What happened next, I cannot recall, even in the deepest dreams of my subconscious.
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