Now I could feel my pulse quicken, and my palms inside my warm gloves tingle with sweat. I truly wanted there to be something at the GPS location, even if I didn’t believe there would be. After just a few hundred yards the GPS was directing me to turn right onto the dirt road. I stopped on the highway and looked at the thin dirt line that led up towards the hilltop south of Pinnacles. This was my first fear; I was not exactly the most experienced off-road rider and my GS 1200 BMW was a pretty heavy machine. Would I be okay riding this road, would there be somewhere I could safely stop the bike and turn around without dropping it. At my age lifting the damn thing up was not something that appealed to me in any way. I had only dropped it one time and that was in a parking lot where kind hands had reached out to me, righting the bike quickly and easily. There was no one here to help me if I got into difficulty.
I parked the bike on the highway and dismounted. Why here? flashed across my brain, why on earth would you send a package, millions of light-years to this ridiculous location? I had no idea. And as it made no sense to me, I began to think that the whole thing was a big joke and I would maybe find a piece of paper, if anything, in a tin, exclaiming what a total moron I was. I was doubting my sanity as I tried to think of which of my biker buddies would play this harmless prank on me. It dawned on me that I had ridden the one hundred and forty miles, that I had thoroughly enjoyed myself so what the hell, I may as well give them the satisfaction of the last laugh.
I studied the GPS and concluded the little tin box (I was convinced) was about point eight of a mile away. I couldn’t see anything, which was good I guess, because if I had seen anything it would be enormous and not something I’d be able to transport on the back of my motorcycle. I removed my helmet and earplugs, then fastened the helmet to the bike. Then I took off my riding pants and jacket and stuffed them into the side panniers. I had decided to hike up the dirt road and find my folly that way. I took a bottle of water from my tank bag and set off up the hill.
It wasn’t long before I wished that I’d brought different shoes. My riding boots that were perfect for wet weather and protection on the road, were quickly uncomfortable clambering up the dirt road. I stopped after a short while and reviewed my progress. My bike looked small. The view across the road to the hills in the east was beautiful. The sun was all wrong for a picture but I pulled out my phone anyway and snapped a shot with my bike at the bottom of the frame. I had hundreds of such pictures. I could hear Mary asking why I had to put the motorcycle in every shot I took. She just wasn’t a motorcyclist. The GPS said I was about half way to my goal. Nothing was visible as I combed the area as best I was able. It didn’t matter to me; I was enjoying myself.
I reached the point parallel with the target location on the dirt road, maybe three hundred feet above the main road. I had only heard two cars pass by during my climb. I drank some more water and soaked up the beauty around me. The air was fresh and cool, the last of the morning dew evaporating from the brush around me. I would have to cross through the shrubs now to the point on the GPS. Nothing unusual was visible in the direction I searched. My heart beat faster, mostly because of the climb and partly for the desire to succeed in my goal to find the package. I realized the GPS was not one hundred percent accurate and the distance was now so close that I couldn’t zoom in any further, I was at fifty feet, the shortest distance that the GPS would allow. I looked around carefully and noticed the lip of an indentation in the ground a little further and higher up the slope from the GPS location. My heart skipped a beat as I walked towards it.
I hiked over to the lip of the indentation and could see a gully leading into the depression in the ground. I realized quickly that it wasn’t anything unusual, just a mini-wash created by run-off on the slope down to the main road. Partially hidden by the lip of the wash was a black object that was oval on the top. I moved closer and realized I’d reached my goal. This was it. My heart thumped in my chest and my breath became choked. I took another swig of water and stared at this strange looking container resting on the ground in front of me. It definitely was not a tin box. I wondered how heavy it was. There were no visible handles and no suggestion of how it opened. I must have looked at it for two or three minutes before I investigated more closely. Was it hot? It didn’t seem to be. I bent down and touched the black, matt surface gingerly. It was cold. Now I could see that the container was oval on the top and flatter along the bottom with a pointed end that I initially thought was the back, but how would I know? Shaped somewhat like an oversized cycling helmet, similar to what I’d seen used in the Tour de France during the time-trial events. I inclined my head toward it and listened closer for a tick. Nothing. Not a bomb then! It looked heavy, maybe because of the size and color. I guessed it was a little more than two feet long and one-foot-wide, a perfect fit for the back of the bike. Lucky me!
I stood up and took stock of my surroundings. Not a soul in sight. The clean air and light, cool breeze in total contrast to the odd container at my feet. I considered how difficult it would be to carry it down the dirt hill to my motorcycle. I guessed I could drag it. I think in that moment I had forgotten how I’d come to be standing at that spot, three hundred feet above Airline Highway. The crazy words of Ka-el, the story of a distant planet, my role as rescuer to the world, none of that seemed to have any relevance to retrieving this object. However, my resolve was strong and I was going to get this thing home some damn way or another and find out what the hell it was.
With both hands, I reached underneath the right side of the container, expecting considerable resistance and lifted. It flew out of my grasp, as if I’d tossed it into the air. But it didn’t fall as you’d have expected, crashing onto one side. It seemed to right itself in the air and float back to the ground gently. I was dumbfounded. I stared at it in disbelief. What the hell was this thing? I lifted it up with both hands. It was light, very light, like it was empty. I turned it over easily and examined the back, there was nothing distinctive. I held it out away from my body and let it drop, it floated back to the ground like a feather. Unreal! Bewildered and a little frightened I carried it down the slope back to my motorcycle.
The ride home was uneventful. I stopped at the café in Tres Pinos and sat on the patio where I could keep watch over my mystery container on the rear of the bike. The toasted tuna sandwich with all the trimmings was delightful and filled me to the brim. There were no noticeable joines in the strange metal of the container. No indentations that it would come apart in any way. I couldn’t see any way to open the thing, but I decided I would worry about that later. My mission to find the damn thing was a success and that was all that mattered at that moment.