Chapter 30 The Lupines
The Lupines
Logan and Bee’s penalty challenge is to make a pizza. I know this, because I can hear snippets of Bee’s shouted complaints as the rest of us watch Aliona set up the clue station. “Isn’t even real lava…penalty…motherf…act like…don’t need this…dormant-ass volcano!”
Aliona rolls her eyes and ignores it. “Okay, all, we’ll have you grab your clues in the order you came up in, for continuity, but everyone will actually open and read them at the same time.”
“Yes, Aliona.”
As instructed, Yumi and I run up to grab our clue at the same time as KC and Gabriel and the Influencers. Once production gives us the okay, I rip open the envelope.
Individual Challenge: One team member must choose between ICE and LAND.
“This could be heights,” Yumi says, grimacing.
“Yeah.” I turn the clue over, like something on the back of the card will tell me, but it just says Fourth Adventure. “Do you want me to take it?”
She nods. “You probably should anyway. That’ll put us each at one, then.”
“Okay.” Looking between the two choices, I decide to go with LAND; ICE seems like too much of a trick, like you think it’ll be something simple and easy like ice climbing, but it’s actually carrying ice cubes in your mouth without letting them melt or something.
LAND: Iceland is known the world round for its unique and otherworldly landscape.
What many don’t know is that this dramatic scenery is partially due to mass deforestation at the hands of Viking settlers over 1,000 years ago.
Invasive species, natural events, and commercial livestock have made it difficult to restore the forests of this island nation.
Today, one member from each team will go head-to-head with the Vikings and assist the Hekla conservation team in their efforts.
Once you have successfully prepared a section of land for reforestation by clearing the invasive lupine flowers, the Adventure Master will present you with the Checkpoint location.
The last team to arrive at the Checkpoint may be eliminated.
NOTE: The Adventurer chosen for this challenge must also perform the ICE challenge, if teams switch tasks. A team may only switch tasks once per Adventure.
“You feel good about that, or do you want to swap?” Yumi asks, biting her lip but I can’t think about that right now.
I rap the card against my palm. “No, I feel good about this one. Let’s do it.”
We race down to the parking lot. The clue was right, Iceland is otherworldly: The glittering ebony sand and the fluffy clouds of light green moss dotted with tall purple wildflowers.
Deep crevices cut through the ground around the ancient volcano, gouged into the earth like a giant child’s finger dragged through birthday cake frosting.
I claim the nearest car, Petter settles into the passenger seat, and Yumi sits behind me so he can film both of our faces.
For the first time in any of the Adventures, I feel competent.
I wrap my hand around the shifter. I know some of the other teams are sweating at the thought of driving stick in a foreign country, but I’ve been preparing for The Adventureverse for years.
It’s why I asked my dad for a manual car—I’ve watched too many people get sent home because they couldn’t figure out how to drive up a hill. Plus, it’s kind of badass.
I back out of the lot and proceed to a nearby tourist kiosk to find somebody with a phone who can give me directions to Hekla. I’m thrilled to find out it’s almost two and a half hours away.
Dear God of Slipping Clutches, please ruin someone’s day. Please make someone stall. Please let someone try to gun it in first gear. Long drives in manual cars—that is what this game needs more of. It’s the only thing I’m guaranteed to succeed at.
I crouch in the dirt, glaring at the pointed blue exclamation marks of flowers popping against the otherwise barren landscape.
Despite its misnomer, Hekla Forest is almost entirely absent of trees.
I say almost, because I want to give partial credit to the scraggly, leafless, tumbleweed-like somethings that dot the hillside.
But there’s very little difference between this “forest” and the deserts of central Arizona.
With my gloved hands, I grip each stem near the roots and pull, the amount of effort it takes making it clear just how deeply rooted the plants are.
“This sucks!” I call to Yumi. Just keeping her in the loop.
“You got this, babe!” She lounges alone against a large boulder. We haven’t seen another team since we left the volcano.
I hope the ICE challenge is impossible, I think. I spin the globe of my necklace as I take in the tens, if not hundreds, of lupines growing thick in my small plot of land, cordoned off by twine and short wooden posts.
Genuine question: Why can’t they just burn the lupines?
I mean, there is literally nothing else to catch fire. A controlled burn would wipe them all out, right? There must be a reason they don’t, besides making me suffer.
When Einar, our Adventure Master, handed me the bucket of tools, he looked me right in the eye and said, “These flowers are my enemy. They strangle the saplings to death. They must be destroyed.”
I have never worked harder to keep a straight face. “I will destroy them,” I replied seriously. But I am not destroying them. They may be destroying me. I’m a lot like a sapling in that way.
I rake at the ground with the bent, fork-like object, trying to loosen things up before the next pull. Still, when I firmly tug at the lupine’s base, I feel the roots rip. I toss the long tangle onto the tarp, gently so as not to redistribute the flower’s seeds.
There’s some cold comfort in the fact that Einar and his crew probably don’t expect me to do a good job.
I’m sure they’ll redo all of our plots once we leave, the way laborers have to redo the plumbing in “schoolhouses” built by fifteen-year-old missionaries.
It’s the nature of voluntourism. And I am here for my dad, not the Icelandic forests, or lack thereof.
At some point, Bee and Logan appear at the corner of my eye, but I don’t know exactly when.
All of my senses are preoccupied with the flowers.
Their smell has transformed from a pleasant grape-soda scent I was happy inhaling lungfuls of to an overwhelming, sticky-sweet, headache-inducing cloud.
I will never eat anything grape ever, ever again.
I fold in the corners of the tarp, trapping the plants inside a large, pungent bindle that I carry back toward the shed.
Einar sits outside, engrossed in a book with trees on the cover. He looks up at my approach and grins. “Did you kill them? The dead go in the bin,” he says, pointing toward a large, low dumpster piled high with plant guts.
“I killed them,” I say, gingerly hoisting my tarp over the rim of the dumpster before shaking it out, so all the contents land safely inside. Once I’m sure the tarp is seed-free, I fold it back into a messy square and place it on the bench beside him.
He smiles as I step back. “Let’s have a look.” He stands with a groan, taking his sweet time laying his book face down atop the tarp.
I shuffle impatiently from foot to foot as Einar wastes precious minutes fiddling with the book’s placement on the tarp, even lifting it several times to double-check it’s on the right page. Finally, he seems satisfied with how much of my time he’s wasted and leads me back into the field.
“Yours was this one, yes?” Einar asks, pointing at my plot.
I nod.
“It looks good,” he remarks, crouching low to peer at the freshly turned dirt.
My guilt grows as he circles the perimeter, head bobbing in approval. Though I tried my best, the knowledge that the lupines’ extensive root system still lies below the surface scratches at me.
It’s fine. It’s fine, I repeat to myself. You aren’t trained to do this. It’s just a challenge. They don’t expect it to be perfect. But I don’t believe me. Visions of tree roots being strangled to death swirl in my mind.
“It’s very good,” he says, reaching for the interior pocket of his jacket. The flash of the gold makes me nauseous. “Congratulations.”
“Wait,” I say, holding up a palm. My gaze darts from the shed to the plot to the man. He looks proud of me. I have to say something. “It’s not…” I lower my voice, angling away from the cameras. “You guys are going to redo this, right? Like, I don’t think it’s good enough for you to plant trees in.”
A startled seal’s bark of a laugh erupts from Einar. He calms quickly, giving me a gentle smile. “Yes, we will work more before we plant the saplings.”
I exhale all my anxiety in one gust. It feels good. “Okay, just making sure.”
“Thank you for checking,” he says, seeming genuinely touched as he hands me the clue envelope. He holds tight, even as I try to pull it away. “Good luck, my friend. And”—his eyes flick up in thought—“stay dry, hmm?”
I look up at the sky. Stay dry? Is it supposed to rain?
The sky is overcast, but I figured that was just an Iceland thing. It’s nice of him to warn us, though. Or could it just be a mistranslation? Stay safe, maybe? Either way, getting rained on is the least of my concerns at this point. I’ve been to Paris.
“Thank you,” I hedge, taking the envelope.
He hums, slowly inching his way back up to the shed, at a pace that I’ve only seen in slow-motion action scenes.
What a strange man. But I’m happy to hear I haven’t ruined Hekla’s soil for another thousand years. We’ll count it as a win.