Christopher Allen's Blog, page 2

Beyond the Reef by Brittany Rohm

Warm water licked my bare feet as I waded into the South Pacific. Sand the color of lightly toasted sugar tickled my toes. Behind me, towering palms swayed in the sea-salt breeze, guarding the tiny island of Lifou. Through the narrow strip of jungle, in the protected bay on the opposite side, swimmers bunched together, thrashing rubber fins and scaring away the marine life. But over here, where the sea extended to the horizon, I was alone.      
I took a final breath through my nose. The briny aroma reminded me of my childhood on the Alaskan coast, and I savored it. Then I secured my mask, bit down on the snorkel, and cinched the camera strap around my wrist.
Stomach-down, I stretched my arms overhead. The gentle current pulled me away from the shore and over the reef below. Countless branches of staghorn coral crisscrossed like a pile of pick-up sticks. Mustard-yellow brain coral ballooned out, and minuscule fish swam through the polyp labyrinths. Peach-colored tendrils of anemones swayed back and forth, as if dancing to a slow song.
Sometimes, inclement weather whipped the Coral Sea into a frothing frenzy, but at that moment, the liquid mass personified a Buddhist monk. I yielded to the ebb and flow, trusting the soothing motion to take me where I wanted to go. Over spindly black urchins, sea stars with more legs than a spider, algae of maroon and indigo, I drifted without a care. Time slipped away unnoticed.  
Suddenly, as if it had been severed by the bite of Leviathan, the reef ended. The vast ocean spilled out before me. The undulation stopped, suspending my body in the directionless space.
Rays of sunlight pierced the now-sapphire water, touching on one organism after another, casting everything in movie-star light. Along the reef wall, striped sergeant fish commanded their troops forward. Parrot fish darted by, flashing their rainbow-colored bodies. Damsels sailed past, showing no signs of distress. Painted sweetlips, graphic tuskfish, golden sweepers. Small schools, big schools, bustling university campuses.
Hypnotized by the brilliant menagerie, I almost forgot about the camera. A titan triggerfish zoomed my way, and I snapped a shot. Two butterfly fish flitted past, and I pressed the shutter release button without even taking aim. Remora, fusilier, flutemouth. Dashing, propelling, rushing. My finger became possessed. I clicked in rapid succession, as if this incredible realm wouldn’t exist unless I had photographic evidence.

But when a black-spotted puffer fish caught my eye about fifteen feet away, I let it be. If frightened, the animal could inflate to twice its size and expose poisonous spikes. Besides, I intended only to capture fascinating critters on film, not terrorize them.

And then a shadow moved near the base of the reef.
No, not a shadow, a shark.
My heartrate accelerated. My shoulders tensed, and I grasped the camera tighter. Whether I would use it as my sole line of defense or as an artistic tool, I did not yet know.
Years ago, I had seen great whites while in the water off the coast of South Africa. But enclosed in a metal cage, I had nothing to fear. Out here, only the watery expanse separated me from this predator.
I knew I could not outswim the shark, so my lone option was to wait—and hope to be ignored. I kept as still as possible, trying to slow my heartbeat and steady my breathing. Mentally, I checked my body for cuts, open wounds, anything that might emit an odor of blood. Nothing came to mind.
The shark swished its tail—once, twice, three times. I gulped in equal measure.
Hugging the ocean floor, about twenty feet down, it slithered in my direction. When it was below me, my shoulders relaxed. From broad head to gray caudal fins dipped in black, the shark spanned the length of my body. Mollusks, crustaceans, and small fish had reason to fear the impressive creature, but not me. Blacktip reef sharks, after all, did not eat humans.
Slowly, I raised the camera. The shark stopped swimming. Part of me thought it would shoot up towards me, happy to have tricked me into feeling safe. But part of me thought it understood my goal. I framed the imposing animal, held my breath, and tapped the shutter button.
With a tail flick, the shark glided forward a few feet. It neither raced to attack me nor sped off to hide. Perhaps it hadn’t noticed me. I took a second photo.
This time, the shark’s head angled up. For a transitory moment, we peered at each other. And just like the reef had abruptly fallen away, so too did my worries, my doubts, my anxiety about the future. Even happy moments from my past vanished. I surrendered to the shark, and to the ocean’s liquid embrace. Nothing existed except this exact second.
When I blinked, the shark curled around and coasted back toward the reef. I followed, keeping a respectful distance. The shark settled atop the seafloor, and I drew the camera to my eye and took a shot. Then another. And another. Unfazed by my presence, the shark was James Dean cool. I dove down for a closer look, but for once, I didn’t use the camera. The image I saw through my own lens, I wanted only in my memory.
At last, it was time to go. I could have stayed until the sun no longer lit my surroundings, until my fingertips wrinkled up like raisins and my lips turned purple from the impending cold. But unlike for the shark, this was not my home. It was only a wondrous world I could visit when the opportunity arose. A world where currents stole time, sound disappeared, and life—uninterrupted—demanded attention. A world where two creatures as opposite as a shark and a human could inhabit one space, at least for a little while, and do nothing but float.
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Born and raised in Alaska, Brittany Rohm grew up with an adventurous spirit and a desire to travel the world. Her wandering feet have taken her to more than forty countries across six continents, and she has camped in electric storms, hiked active volcanoes, and been stung by a jellyfish. She currently works as a freelance editor and explores new places as often as possible.  

The 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition -- The Results!

Again this year the I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition has been a storm of stories from around the world. From the mountains of India to the depths of the oceans, from Mongolia to Maine, you've taken us there--and for this we're grateful. We love being part of your adventures.

This year's judge has been Amanda (Mandy) Huggins, who currently has not one but two short fiction collections out: Brightly Coloured Horses (Chapleton Books) and Separated from the Sea (Retreat West Books). The writers of the three highly commended entries below will receive a copy of Separated from the Sea. Huggins, also an award-winning travel writer, will share her thoughts on the pieces and the competition in her judge's report, which will be published here in September.

Congratulations again to everyone who made the long list and the shortlist. We hope you'll participate in next year's competition.

The Winners of the 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition:

First Place

"My Name is Mai" by J L Hall (Scotland)

Second Place

"Not Your Mother's Travel Porn" by Douglas Weissman (USA)

Highly Commended

"A Fighter in the Waste" by Nolan Janssens (Chile, Belgium, Canada)

"Beyond the Reef" by Brittany Rohm (USA)

"A Peaceful Warzone" by Hannah Elkak (UK, Saudi Arabia)


These five entries will appear at I Must Be Off! in September and October. There is still a Readers' Choice Award to be given, so please comment on and share your favorite pieces.

I must be off,
Christopher

_____________________________________

Christopher Allen is the author of  Other Household Toxins  (Matter Press) and  Conversations with S. Teri O'Type (a Satire) . Allen's fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in [PANK], Eclectica Magazine's 20th-Anniversary Speculative anthology, Indiana Review, Split Lip Magazine, SmokeLong Quarterly: the Best of the First Ten Years anthology, Longleaf Review and Lunch Ticket, among many others great places. Read his book reviews in Necessary Fiction, Word Riot, and The Lit Pub. His creative non-fiction has been featured in Bootsnall Travel, Chicken Soup for the Soul and others. A finalist at Glimmer Train in 2011, Allen is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, The Best Small Fictions, storySouth's Million Writers Award and others. In 2017 Allen was both a finalist (as translator) and semifinalist for The Best Small Fictions. He is presently the co-editor of SmokeLong Quarterly and a consulting editor for The Best Small Fictions 2018.   

The I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition -- Shortlist!

Once again, thank you to everyone who entered the 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition. Your stories and experiences have as always taken us around the world. We appreciate all the work you put into your submissions.

This year we've received several requests for individual feedback. Sadly, due to the large number of entrants, we simply aren't able to do this, but we have conducted interviews with past judges that include specific and detailed feedback on how to craft stunning travel writing. Please have a look at these interviews with Graham Mercer and Paola Fornari.

The entries on the shortlist are all excellent in some way. They are all well written and show great potential. Congratulations to those of you whose words have made it this far. And congratulations to those of you who made the long list. We really enjoyed your work. Since blind judging is still in progress, please refrain from identifying your entry until the announcement is made by I Must Be Off!--which will be soon.

Our judge this year, Amanda Huggins, has worked hard to get us this far. I'll be thanking her properly when the results come out, but I wanted to mention her now as well. Three highly commended entries, which will be announced soon, will win her new collection of short fiction Separated from the Sea . You can read my interview with Huggins about the collection here.


The 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition Short List

A Fighter in the Waste
A Peaceful Warzone
Beyond the Reef
Californie
Creative Side of Afghan Women
India looks like (first line)
Leopard Act
Long in the Devil's Tooth
Making a Whip Out of Poo in Romania
Mother, (first line)
My Name is Mai
No Fences: Archaeology in Mongolia
Not Your Mother's Travel Porn
So Much New York!
The Blessed Islands
The Day of the Monkey God
The Dream Palace
The Last Coconut
Where East Meets West


We know that for most entrants this means that the journey has come to an end this year. Thank you again for taking us along and trusting us with your work. There's next year. Go read those interviews with past judges in the meantime. We can't wait to read about your travels in 2019!

I must be off,
Christopher

_______________________________________

Christopher Allen is the author of  Other Household Toxins  (Matter Press) and  Conversations with S. Teri O'Type (a Satire) . Allen's fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in [PANK], Eclectica Magazine's 20th-Anniversary Speculative anthology, Indiana Review, Split Lip Magazine, SmokeLong Quarterly: the Best of the First Ten Years anthology, Longleaf Review and Lunch Ticket, among many others great places. Read his book reviews in Necessary Fiction, Word Riot, and The Lit Pub. His creative non-fiction has been featured in Bootsnall Travel, Chicken Soup for the Soul and others. A finalist at Glimmer Train in 2011, Allen is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, The Best Small Fictions, storySouth's Million Writers Award and others. In 2017 Allen was both a finalist (as translator) and semifinalist for The Best Small Fictions. He is presently the co-editor of SmokeLong Quarterly and a consulting editor for The Best Small Fictions 2018.    

Other Household Toxins Giveaway!

Are you strapped for cash? Running low on dough? Are you one of the 300 million US-Americans who have not read Other Household Toxins, my debut collection of flash fiction, yet...but would love to...if there were just a way, some magical process, an angel, someone who might wave a wand and make that dream come true?




It's me! I'm going to give away a couple books to people who seem excited or crazy. I'm looking for weirdos. Not your regular sane types.

Just in case you haven't heard about Other Household Toxins, you can read some reviews on Goodreads and Amazon. They're over there in the left-hand margin. See them?

Now, here's all you have to do to get Other Household Toxins delivered directly to your door:

* Be strange
* Be a US resident (having a US address)
* Share this post either by retweeting or sharing on Facebook
* Leave your name so that I can put it in the proverbial hat if I can find one; otherwise it will be a bowl.
* Do all of this before Tuesday August 21!
* Continue being strange

I must be off,
Christopher

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Christopher Allen is the author of  Other Household Toxins  (Matter Press) and  Conversations with S. Teri O'Type (a Satire) . Allen's fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in [PANK], Eclectica Magazine's 20th-Anniversary Speculative anthology, Indiana Review, Split Lip Magazine, SmokeLong Quarterly: the Best of the First Ten Years anthology, Longleaf Review and Lunch Ticket, among many others great places. Read his book reviews inNecessary Fiction, Word Riot, and The Lit Pub. His creative non-fiction has been featured in Bootsnall Travel, Chicken Soup for the Soul and others. A finalist at Glimmer Train in 2011, Allen is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, The Best Small Fictions, storySouth's Million Writers Award and others. In 2017 Allen was both a finalist (as translator) and semifinalist for The Best Small Fictions. He is presently the co-editor of SmokeLong Quarterly and a consulting editor for The Best Small Fictions 2018.    

The 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition -- The Long List

via GIPHY
First of all, thank you to everyone who sent us your words and your adventures. We were impressed with the breadth of experience represented in the more than 400 entries this year from all over the world.

Here is the 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition Long List, by title in alphabetical order. The names of the authors are not included at this point as blind judging is still in progress. If the title of your entry appears on this list, please refrain from identifying your story on social media (although you're welcome to announce that you are on the long list).

A Fighter in the Waste
A Peaceful Warzone
A Town Called Mölln
An Icelandic World
Beyond the Reef
By the River
Californie
Creative Side of Afghan Women
Diving in the Big Blue
Finding My Way in Remarkable Rwanda
Floating Hope
Food and Travel: A Love Story
Found Furniture
I really want to smack Julia Childs. (first line)
Jämtland's Triangle
India looks like (first line)
Just Passing By
Little Easter
Leopard Act
Long in the Devil's Tooth
Making a Whip Out of Poo in Romania
Melting in Bogotá
Mother, (first line)
My Name is Mai
Nature's Magic, Mawlynnong
Nicaragua is Trying to Kill Me
No Fences: Archaeology in Mongolia
(Not) Meeting Mom in Guyana
Not Your Mother's Travel Porn
Passing Place
Reluctant Traveller
Repugnant DNA
Saharan Encounter
Seeking Comfort in West Yorkshire
So Much New York!
The Blessed Islands
The Day of the Monkey God
The Dream Palace
The Last Coconut
The Pizzeria at the Edge of the World
The Red Rocks of Utah
The Sulphor Miners of Mount Ijen
Umngot spoke a thousand words
Unknown Lands, Exaggerations
Where East Meets West

Congratulations again to the writers on this list! And thank you to everyone who sent in your travel writing. The quality of writing was high this year as always. The shortlist will be announced near the end of August.

I must be off,
Christopher

______________________________________________

Christopher Allen is the author of  Other Household Toxins  (Matter Press) and  Conversations with S. Teri O'Type (a Satire) . Allen's fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in [PANK], Eclectica Magazine's 20th-Anniversary Speculative anthology, Indiana Review, Split Lip Magazine, SmokeLong Quarterly: the Best of the First Ten Years anthology, Longleaf Review and Lunch Ticket, among many others great places. Read his book reviews in Necessary Fiction, Word Riot, and The Lit Pub. His creative non-fiction has been featured in Bootsnall Travel, Chicken Soup for the Soul and others. A finalist at Glimmer Train in 2011, Allen is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, The Best Small Fictions, storySouth's Million Writers Award and others. In 2017 Allen was both a finalist (as translator) and semifinalist for The Best Small Fictions. He is presently the co-editor of SmokeLong Quarterly and a consulting editor for The Best Small Fictions 2018. 

The I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition -- Submissions Closing Soon!

Thank you to everyone who has sent your incredible writing to us this year! We are galloping down the homestretch to the deadline. When the clock turns over to Aug 1 in American Samoa--the last place on Earth to experience July 31--submissions will be officially closed for the 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition judged this year by Mandy Huggins.

To keep up with the deadline, refer to the current time in American Samoa.

Good luck, everyone!

We love reading about your adventures.

I must be off,
Christopher

Interview with Amanda Huggins – Separated From the Sea

Separated From the Sea is Amanda Huggins' latest collection, one of two she has out this year! Mandy is also this year's judge of the I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition. The deadline for the competition is July 31. 
__________________________
I Must Be Off!: First, Mandy, thank you so much for judginAmanda Huggins: Thank you for asking me to judge the competition! I can’t wait to read the shortlisted entries -- if previous years are anything to go by, there’s going to be some great writing coming my way.
And yes, it’s a very busy year for me. Having two collections published is exciting, but it's not for the faint-hearted! Promoting your own work is time-consuming, and when you’ve just asked everyone you know to buy your book, it’s very difficult to ask them all over again only a few months later!
However, the positives more than make up for it. Receiving feedback from readers is very special. If someone tells you they love your work, then that's the best reward of all. I was overwhelmed by the response to my flash collection, Brightly Coloured Horses, and I’m getting some great reviews for Separated From the Sea.
IMBO: Separated From the Sea is so beautifully written. Can you give us an idea of how the collection came together?
Huggins: Prior to 2017 I had only submitted my collection to a couple of publishers, as in my heart I knew it wasn’t ready, and that there were at least half a dozen weak stories that didn’t deserve their place in the book.
However, after a further edit at the beginning of last year, I submitted it to another publisher. This time it made the next round, and was sent out to readers. The response was very positive, yet in the end it was a no – they felt it still needed more work. They made suggestions for improvements, and as well as making all the changes, I wrote five new stories in a very short space of time that turned out to be some of the best I’ve written. (This is unusual for me, as I’m a very slow writer!) So I was finally able to ditch the weakest stories, re-title the collection and get it back out there.
I made it my writing goal for 2018 to get Separated From the Sea published, and I was delighted when it was accepted by Amanda Saint at Retreat West Books in January. I’m very proud to be RWB’s first single collection author!
IMBO: The stories are set in various places, from Cuba to Italy, NYC to Paris. Several take place in Japan. You seem to have a particular connection to Japan. A couple of your I Must Be Off! pieces—“Straight in the Eye” and “A Thousand Cranes” are about Japan. Can you tell us a bit more about how this country has influenced your writing?
Huggins: Japan is one of my favourite places, and I’m already looking forward to going back there next spring. You’re right in saying that I feel a particular connection to Japan, even though I would struggle to define it -- it’s a spiritual thing in a way, a feeling of being at home. There are so many different things to see and experience; it’s a country of constant surprises and crazy juxtapositions -- both quirky and beautiful. The people are friendly and welcoming and, even though their culture and psyche sometimes feel impenetrable, I always feel at ease there.
I think Japanese literature and films have definitely influenced my own fiction. I particularly admire the domestic dramas made in the 1950s by Yasujiro Ozu. His films are poignant, poetic, and  deceptively simple, and I love the elemental humanity of his work. He evokes a strong sense of the melancholy in everyday life, and the films all unfold at a contemplative, considered pace. Japanese fiction is poetic in a similar way -- there is a sparse, clean, yet lyrical feel to the writing, that I love.
IMBO: In Separated From the Sea there is the recurring theme of the father lost at sea, but also lots of women narrators leafing through men to answer some existential question about themselves. Is that a good way of putting it?
Huggins: My stories never start out with a conscious theme, or with any notion of them needing to fit in alongside other work. However, various recurring themes do weave their way through the narrative without me noticing, and your description is apt.
Similar themes run through both collections -- betrayal and loss, a sense of yearning, of not quite belonging, of not being sure that things are what you thought they were, of searching for redemption or atonement and being constantly disappointed, of seeking approval or belonging by sleeping with unsuitable men! They are stories imbued with pathos and irony, but there’s also hope.
IMBO: What question has no one asked you about the collection?
Huggins: I often get asked if I have a favourite story in the collection, yet I’ve never been asked if I have a favourite character.
I actually have more than one. I’m very fond of Hitoshi in ‘The last of Michiko’, who copes with impossible grief and who deserves a happy ending! And I was always rooting for feisty Eleanor in ‘All Stations to Edgware’, despite her over-fondness for drink, and the mistakes she’s made in her life. I love the strength and vulnerability of my younger characters too: my fishermen’s daughters in particular, as well as Marnie in ‘Sardine Herding’ and Sandra in ‘Pink Knickers.’ I know them all inside out, and each of them contains a small part of me.

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Amanda Huggins was brought up in Scarborough, where her parents taught her the importance of kindness, stories, travel and good wine. She moved to London in the 1990s and now lives in West Yorkshire.
Her short stories, travel writing and feature articles have been published in a number of literary journals, textbooks, guidebooks and small press anthologies, as well as in the magazines and newspapers such as The Guardian, The Daily Telegraph, Reader's Digest, Mslexia, Traveller, Wanderlust and Writers' Forum. 
She has won a number of writing competitions and been placed and shortlisted in numerous others, including Bare Fiction, InkTears, Bradt Travel Guides, Cinnamon Press, Retreat West, New Writer, Fish, English Pen, Flash500, Words with Jam, and Writers' Forum. In 2014 she won the British Guild of Travel Writers New Travel Writer Award. 
She appeared on BBC radio in 2012 after submitting a piece for the Your Desert Island Discs programme, and her written feature was one of three chosen for the BBC website. 
In 2017 a selection of her short fiction appeared in the InkTears showcase anthology, Death of a Superhero, alongside the work of three other writers. 

Her single-author flash fiction collection,  Brightly Coloured Horses , was published by Chapeltown Books in February 2018 and has already received fifteen 5-star reviews. Separated From the Sea is her first full-length short story collection 

Baby Made a List!

Photo from flickrI'm beyond thrilled that Baby has made it onto a list of recommended flash fiction provided by the editors of 100 Word Story and curated by The Millions. The list includes stellar writers such as Leesa Cross-Smith, Kim Chinquee, Meg Pokrass, Kara Vernor, Stuart Dybek, and Joy Williams. Also on the list are a few anthologies including The Best Small Fictions, for which I was a consulting editor last year. It's a great list, and I couldn't be happier that Other Household Toxins is included.

Honored and thrilled.

If you're just now realizing that I've published a collection of flash fiction, welcome to the party! You can read some reviews and interviews related to the Baby HERE. 

If you have bought the book on Amazon, how about leaving a review (after you've read it of course). This review does not have to be positive. If you hate my Baby (monster), you can write that as well. Honest reviews are always the best reviews.

If you are a professional reviewer and would like a pdf, just send me a private message. christopher@imustbeoff.com 

If you have bought the book and also reviewed it on Amazon or elsewhere, how about sending me some gluten-free cupcakes that you've baked yourself? This is a fun activity for the whole family.

If you have already done all the above, you are a saint. Take a break.  

I must be off,
Christopher

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Christopher Allen is the author of  Other Household Toxins  (Matter Press) and  Conversations with S. Teri O'Type (a Satire) . Allen's fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in [PANK], FRiGG, Eclectica Magazine's 20th-Anniversary Speculative anthology, Indiana Review, Night Train, Juked, SmokeLong Quarterly: the Best of the First Ten Years anthology, and Lunch Ticket, among many others. Read his book reviews in[PANK] blog, Necessary Fiction, Word Riot, and The Lit Pub. His creative non-fiction has been featured in Bootsnall Travel, Chicken Soup for the Soul and lots of other good places. A finalist at Glimmer Train in 2011, Allen is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, The Best Small Fictions, storySouth's Million Writers Award and others. In 2017 Allen was both a finalist (as translator) and semifinalist for The Best Small Fictions. He is presently the managing editor of SmokeLong Quarterly and a consulting editor for The Best Small Fictions 2018. 

First Hard Hike of 2018

Brauneck is a mountain for the heart. I don't mean your sappy soul; I mean that muscle pumping in your chest that will be in your throat by the time you've hiked halfway up this steep mountain. This is our fourth or fifth time here. It's only 12-15 pop songs away from Munich depending on the traffic, so we come here for a good workout at least once a year. It's very green with great views from the top. OK, it's for the soul too.

Just 3 pop songs away from Bad Tölz in Bavaria, Brauneck is a popular recreation spot for skiers in winter, mountain bikers in summer and irresponsible parents in spring. Wait, Christopher, what was that last one?

Allow me to explain. The hike up to the Panorama Restaurant am Brauneck is always a challenge. It's kind of straight up at times on slippery gravel paths splotched with leaves, the kind of paths that can be dangerous if you have a heavy backpack that pulls you backwards. (Always lean into the mountain. I've probably said that before, but it bears repeating.)

Many parents take their five-year-olds up to the top on the cable-car lift and walk down the mountain because they're convinced their kids won't enjoy a vigorous 2-hour hike up a steep mountain; and while they are probably right about this, I think the real reason they don't walk up the mountain is that they themselves won't enjoy a vigorous 2-hour hike up a steep mountain. (We did see a family walking up the mountain this time. They had the most adorable two-year-old walking with her tiny backpack. So there are the exceptions.)

Besides being terrible for your knees, walking down Brauneck mountain is dangerous. It's so slippery all year round, but in spring, it's slippery on steroids with snowdrifts and soggy descents. We are not about to walk down the mountain. In fact, at one point, I turn to Zach the Platinum Coin Collector's Assistant and say, "If the last really steep kilometer before the Panorama restaurant is covered in snow, we can just call a helicopter to come get us."

About halfway up the mountain, we encounter our first snow drift, remains of the artificial snow from the snow cannons. This does not faze us. We remind ourselves that we are rugged, we are seasoned, the panorama restaurant at the top serves wine. Actually, the service at this restaurant is horrible. They have two or three servers for a zillion people. Everyone is irritated, hungry and thirsty. Best to bring your own thermos of white wine.

As we crest the plateau that sports a little reservoir, we see that the last kilometer is indeed covered in snow, so now we have a decision to make: trudge on and up the steep snow-capped cliff (it's practically a cliff, so I'm sticking with "cliff", or inch our way back down this slippery slope. We trudge onward and upward. You only live once (or 4.74 million pop songs).

To walk up a very steep slope in the snow with the wrong shoes, all you need to do is kick yourself and nice flat surface to stand on as you pull yourself up a few inches; then do this with the other foot until you've made it to the top of the mountain seven lifetimes later. (Don't forget to lean into the mountain. Here, if you don't lean in you'll fall down a snow-covered slope and wind up in a pile of very soggy you.)

The last few hundred meters straight up through the snowAt some point during these lifetimes, we encounter two elderly men with what must be their two young grandchildren. They are side-stepping down through the snow, and the grandpas are making jokes about breaking their necks. The children, trembling with fear, are wearing the kind of sport shoes that are bought because they have ponies and rainbows on then rather than good soles for walking in the mountains. One slip, and these kids will slide a few hundred meters down the mountain.

Thanks to a few hikers before us, the last 100 meters are like snowstairs--still slippery and sometimes muddy, but not at all rough-going. At the top I actually do a Rocky bounce before we head to the panorama restaurant--which is . . .

"Closed," says Zach the Platinum Coin Collector's Assistant.

I say a word I can't say on I Must Be Off! The lift is open, but the restaurant isn't? This doesn't make sense. There are hundreds of people at the top. The parking lot is full at the bottom. Or maybe it does make sense. What could be more terrible than terrible service? No service, I guess.

So after our 2-hour (actually almost 3 because we got lost in the woods for a little bit but we won't talk about that since it was kind of my fault) strenuous hike, we take the lift back down.

I must be off,
Christopher


Have you entered the 2018 I Must Be Off! Travel Writing Competition? Read the guidelines HERE. 

Have you bought my new collection of flash fiction, Other Household Toxins? Make a guy happy HERE. 

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Christopher Allen is the author of  Other Household Toxins  (Matter Press) and  Conversations with S. Teri O'Type (a Satire) . Allen's fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in [PANK], FRiGG, Eclectica Magazine's 20th-Anniversary Speculative anthology, Indiana Review, Night Train, Juked, SmokeLong Quarterly: the Best of the First Ten Years anthology, and Lunch Ticket, among many others. Read his book reviews in[PANK] blog, Necessary Fiction, Word Riot, and The Lit Pub. His creative non-fiction has been featured in Bootsnall Travel, Chicken Soup for the Soul and lots of other good places. A finalist at Glimmer Train in 2011, Allen is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, The Best Small Fictions, storySouth's Million Writers Award and others. In 2017 Allen was both a finalist (as translator) and semifinalist for The Best Small Fictions. He is presently the managing editor of SmokeLong Quarterly and a consulting editor for The Best Small Fictions 2018. 

First "Easy" Hike of 2018

Everywhere the sound of mountains thawing. The waterline in the reservoir is frighteningly low, we assume to make room for the water raging down from above, gurgling all around us. It's a warm day in the middle of April. And the place is almost deserted.

We go left around the Schlegeisspeichersee (Schlegeis reservoir), home to one of Austria's most powerful hydroelectric plants, a body of water that would wash away the little tourist town of Gerlos if it were given the chance. We go left because we know there's more sun after a short jaunt through the woods. We've been here several times before. It wasn't our first choice today, but the lifts aren't open yet, and we don't usually walk down mountains. 

Andrew the Walrus Tusk Polisher's Assistant suggests a nice easy walk around the Speichersee. Austrian, Italian and German families come here with their kids. In summer, people sunbathe here and drink Aperol Spritz. Groups of elderly hikers with their dogs tramp up to the mountain huts. This is not a place for rugged mountain climbers or endurance athletes with high-tech shoes. It's easy.

And the first two hours are just that: a walk in the sun, fresh air, the pleasant sound of a gregarious spring thaw. We're alone, and that's fine. We don't really enjoy the chatter of crowds. But the absence of tourists on this amazingly beautiful, warm April day is eerie. At the halfway mark we sit on a bench and eat our lunch. Andrew the Walrus Tusk Polisher's Assistant's: an orange. Mine: a ham sandwich on a burnt gluten-free roll. Not a dream picnic, but OK. 

I say hello to a guy on a mountain bike, the first person I've seen since we started hiking two hours before. He's cycling toward the treeline, where we'll be headed after we finish our lavish lunch. 

"The breeze is remarkably warm for April," says Andrew the Walrus Tusk Polisher's Assistant. 

I nod. It's hard to talk when choking on a crusty, burnt sandwich.



When we finally head back around the right side of the reservoir, we come upon our first obstacle: a stream that is usually a trickle, one that kiddies splash through without a care in the world. This time it's babbling, meaning we'd get our feet wet if we tried to cross. We have to walk upstream a few hundred meters to find a place to cross. This should have been our first sign--that easy was over. 

The right side of the reservoir is not in the sun most of the day, so there's still snow. By the time we figure this out, we've walked too far to turn around. Call this lazy; call this practical; call this adventuresome. The snow is a minor inconvenience. We're not really equipped to walk through snow, but we're also not wearing flip-flops. At this moment we see our cyclist come back toward us. He does not say, "Hey, don't go into the wood. Why not? I'm glad you asked. There are dozens of enormous trees down blocking the path, making it impassable. You'll be a mess when you're done with that, so just turn around now and cut your losses." He does not say any of this. He says, "Hello."



The first few trees we have to crawl under or over are fairly typical for fallen trees. The next few downed trees fall--get it?--into the category of devastation. The next dozen or so are straight out of The Lord of the Rings when the armies of Saruman went on their felling spree. There must have been an apocalyptic storm or an avalanche. I didn't take any pictures after we started dealing with the trees. I was too busy not breaking bones or skewering eyes on jutting branches. 

Rather than turn around and walk around the reservoir the way we came, we--meaning Andrew the Walrus Tusk Polisher's Assistant--decide to tumble down through the wood to the reservoir and walk along the shore. The waterline is so low that we think this will be possible. To get to the shoreline, though, we have to get through an obstacle of knee-deep snow, which is very refreshing actually. Have you ever walked along the waterline of a reservoir? The surface of this one is clay that cakes on your shoes, making them heavier and heavier. There's nothing left to do but trudge back through the knee-deep snow, back into the wood. We find the trail. We always know we'll find the trail. We aren't lost, just inconvenienced. But the situation still reminds us just how fast something fun and harmless can go wrong. Bright side: the knee-deep snow cleans the clay off our shoes. And I do not have any scratches all over my arms and legs, which I can't say for Andrew the Walrus Tusk Polisher's Assistant. 

I must be off,
Christopher

PS. Have you bought my new book of flash fiction? In the US, you can buy it on Amazon. And I'll send you virtual cupcakes and kisses. 

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Christopher Allen is the author of  Other Household Toxins  (Matter Press) and  Conversations with S. Teri O'Type (a Satire) . Allen's fiction has appeared, or is forthcoming, in [PANK], FRiGG, Eclectica Magazine's 20th-Anniversary Speculative anthology, Indiana Review, Night Train, Juked, SmokeLong Quarterly: the Best of the First Ten Years anthology, and Lunch Ticket, among many others. Read his book reviews in[PANK] blog, Necessary Fiction, Word Riot, and The Lit Pub. His creative non-fiction has been featured in Bootsnall Travel, Chicken Soup for the Soul and lots of other good places. A finalist at Glimmer Train in 2011, Allen is a multiple nominee for the Pushcart Prize, Best of the Net, The Best Small Fictions, storySouth's Million Writers Award and others. In 2017 Allen was both a finalist (as translator) and semifinalist for The Best Small Fictions. He is presently the managing editor of SmokeLong Quarterly and a consulting editor for The Best Small Fictions 2018.