“Serbia and Driving the Forest Roads”

• August 14, 2020
• By Daryl
• 4 Comments

Our drive destination was set as we were driving through the small villages. I stopped for some snacks at a store and fill up our phones. The lady is working to fill the phone, but its going slow, and people are backing up, four deep. I told her; “no worries as Serbians are very patient, I can tell by the way they drive.” She started cracking up, because Serbs are very inpatient drivers. I mentioned I am from America and all the old men around, started to say, “America, boom boom boom.” I did not realize we bombed them in the war. The lady said “no politics, no politics.” The eighty year old men were about to jump me.

 We drive on to what destination, I am not sure. The road narrows and constantly twist and turns past grand oak-like trees with fat wholesome branches. Stone-stacked retaining walls holds back time and layers of soil.

The trees grow thicker and potholes are avoided until there are so many we chance to strike one, as we straddle two in the middle of the road. We constantly must adjust our speed to avoid the rhythmic rattle and shakes that loosen, something we hear rolling around in the air conditioning vent, since we left the rental car company. Bunny thinks a kid dropped a marble through the vent at one time. It hangs up somewhere on occasion, but the curvy roads we manoeuvre, loosen it, again and again. Its like an old friend at this point, that comes and goes, as we make turns, it rolls side to side.

Trees are being logged and stacked besides the road, so carefully. The loggers must be type A, as each log is stacked perfectly in rows and stacked about a meter high. Larger logs are stacked more randomly for they are to be gathered for milling into lumber. Tractors are seen parked along the road in small clearings. The forest was very dense by this point, and the light flickers as it pierces the canopy. 

The maps say to turn left ahead at the fork, but road work is being done with a dark asphalt, glistening in the sunshine. Road blocks cut our path to our destination. We drive on as it is so beautiful. The road changes our mind in a short distance. Potholes are everywhere and our rolling friend is vibrating and shaking it up, as we try to strike a clear path. 

We turned around to find a snake in our roadway, swerving I try to miss this venomous demon. It’s fate is uncertain, till the rear view mirror told the story.  It slithered off the road into the dense green foliage. Snake memories come to mind, from dark recesses somewhere in the far corners of my brain, just on the other side of some cob webs.

I went fishing with my Dad on a pond in East Texas as a young boy. Oak trees had moss hanging from the limbs as they stretched out over the water. We fished for some time with no bites. We saw snapping turtles swimming, popping there heads above the water line here and there. The water is very dark like ink and a little spooky. My Dad told me to wade out past the limbs so I could cast without interference from the branches. Every few minutes I could see water moccasin swim by and I had seen three at this point. Their heads sticking out of the water and ripples trailing behind from the “S” shape motions of their body. I did not want to. but after his insistence I waded out into the foreboding waters. Shivering from fright, I cast my line several times as more snakes pass by in front of me. Dad yells out , “they won’t hurt you.” It echoes in my mind like I was in a large canyon. I am not so sure, why did he not wade out too? My sight turned to tunnel vision and all I could see were the heads of the snakes swimming by. It seemed like an eternity but i defied my Dad and came to shore. He told me; “see I told you they would not bother you.” I never wanted to fish with my Dad again. NO, he was not the nicest man on earth, for sure. I thought what if he was wrong, would he come get me? Would the snake bite me over and over, or just take a little bite? It is amazing how well man has adapted to see snakes in the lower part of our eyes. We never miss them, we can’t control the reflex to jump back, helpless to our reflexes.