Tryton only hesitated a moment before accepting the offer. He followed Karonen’s truck to Finland. Twenty minutes after they left Palisade Head, Tryton pulled up beside an isolated two story house at the base of a four-hundred foot hill covered by dying paper birch and quaking aspen.
Stepping slowly from his vehicle, Tryton stood and looked at the hills. “Looks like a lot of the North Shore here. Lots of dying trees,” he said.
Karonen, who had emerged from his truck a few moments earlier, said, “Climate change; since the 1890’s, the average temperature has risen two degrees up here. That’s not the only reason they’re dying, of course, but the scientists say that seems to be the major one. The birch and aspen are being replaced by scrub brush such as alder, hazel, and common tansy. It’s sad. The North woods has changed from red pine and white cedar, most of which were logged to near extinction, to paper birch and quaking aspen, to what you see now. The soil has become drier, rainstorms more condensed, along with more dangerous fire conditions. All these new species do best with light. With the added light they can really establish a thick mat and essentially choke off any other plants that are trying to get established in the area. It’s a long story if you want to hear it.”
Tryton scrunched his lips together and muttered, “Some other time. How about that whiskey you mentioned?”
“Come on in,” Karonen said as he motioned for Tryton to follow.
The house had an old, musty smell that hit Tryton’s nose as soon as he entered. He blinked and made a face. Karonen didn’t notice as he moved quickly to his liquor ledge in the nearby kitchen.
“Pick a chair and sit down. I’ll be right back with a tall one. Jameson whiskey okay with you?”
Still trying to get the odor of the house from his nose, Tryton answered, “That’ll be more than fine.” He selected a newer looking, straight back chair and plopped down. A minute later, Karonen appeared with two glasses. “Hope you don’t mind, I mixed ‘em with sour.”
Tryton accepted the glass and said, “Sounds great to me.”
They conversed about the history of the North Shore until Karonen finally got around to mentioning areas to visit: the Tofte dump, great for bear watching, Carlton Peak, Hog Creek, and the Superior Hiking Trail.
Tryton felt tired and mentioned that he should be getting back to his motel before he got too bad.
Rising to his feet, Karonen said, “You want to see one last thing before you go.”
Tryton shook his head slowly as he stood, “Oh no, I’ve got to go straight to the motel. I’m not feeling really great here, Peter.” Having become more familiar, they had started calling each other by first names.
“It’ll just take a minute, Seth. And it’s right here in the house.” Tryton began to protest, but Karonen waved him off with a follow me gesture.
He led him to the back of the house to a monstrous looking, wooden fireplace mantel and surround.
Karonen beamed as he directed Tryton’s gaze to it. Tryton pursed his lips, squinted, and then said, “That’s very nice, Peter.”
“You’re going to sound more impressed when I show you what’s behind it.” Before Tryton could respond, Karonen grabbed hold of a roughly carved section, pulled hard.
“What the hell?” Tryton looked stupefied.
When the surround was completely opened, Karonen stepped inside the darkened area and flipped a switch. Rock and red, clay walls, supported by ancient timbers were revealed.
“I found this by accident,” Karonen began. “I have no idea who built it, but, as you can see from the look of the timbers, it’s been here for a while.”
Tryton asked, “Is it safe?”
“I’ve been in here many times. Come in, Seth." Karonen beckoned him with his hand and then walked deeper into the opening. Tryton, taller than Karonen, hunched over and walked in. Fifty feet into the tunnel it widened and became a chamber.
“I’m a little dizzy, Peter, I…I… need to sit down.”
Karonen watched Tryton stumble, but not lose his footing. He approached and took Tryton by the elbow to loan support.
“Here, Seth, sit down here.” Karonen guided him to what looked like a stool carved out of the rock wall. Tryton dropped to the rock chair and held his head.
“Something’s not feeling right, Peter. Maybe I can’t hold my liquor anymore.” Tryton took several deep breaths, moaned, and held his head in his hands. His vision was getting fuzzy and the room was spinning. Karonen supported him as he collapsed onto the dirt and gravel floor.
Karonen checked Tryton’s pulse. It was strong, but slow. Satisfied that Seth was merely feeling the effects of the drug Karonen had slipped in his drink, and not suffering from a heart attack or stroke, Karonen let him lie on the floor while he prepared the next chamber for Tryton’s stay.
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