Crows cawed in the distance, as my brother Jim and I sat on our front steps. The hot sun brightened the morning, as we planned our day. John, our older brother, was in the house, his attention drawn to a new book.

Our mom, a school teacher, was attending summer school classes in Fayette. She stayed with our grandparents during the week that summer. Daddy was a commercial fisherman; while mom was gone, he stayed pretty close to home. But on this particular day, he had gone to the islands to check his fish traps. We had an old Jeep that hauled fish nets and box traps, toys and kids to and from the boat landing. Puddlejumper was its name.

Jim and I decided to walk the old road that led to the boat landing. Daddy would be coming home soon and we would surprise him. He would be so happy to see us and proud that we knew the way to the Islands.

At first the trip was smooth going. The sloping road led out of town and onto the flat bottoms that lay east of New Albin. We each picked up a sturdy stick to help us, as we trod along. Behind us, our little town grew smaller. The further we traveled, the narrower the road became. Soon, we found ourselves in the middle of the marshland that separated the terrace from the wetlands. Years of constant maintenance kept the road from sinking into the marsh. Certain areas of the old road had disappeared and heavy planks had been positioned as a bridge for the few that used this lowly highway. We carefully made our way to the other side. Water from the slough lapped over the edge at times. Determined, we continued on.

The road began to rise, as we ascended onto higher ground. After resting a little while and wishing that we had brought a snack, we pressed on. Elm trees and giant cottonwoods surrounded us, as we walked deeper into the woods. We spotted a deer, just as it disappeared into the thick foliage. Soft breezes blew through the trees and the smell of the Islands drifted to our noses. Wild flowers were in full bloom. Red, blue, violet and white dotted the woodland floor.

We walked on. We were familiar with this old road. Daddy’s old Puddlejumper practically knew every bump and rut. We remembered many journeys back and forth to the Islands. Today, it seemed further than we remembered. The afternoon crept on and the sun moved toward the bluffs of Iowa. The rain that drenched us the day before had produced muddy puddles in the road; we stepped around them.

We paused to listen for sounds of Daddy’s launch or his Puddlejumper. The wind sent fallen leaves and sticks across our path. As if knowing that we might enjoy a show, the leaves chased each other in circles then dashed off into the brush. We grew weary wishing that the sound of the Puddlejumper would soon rumble toward us.

Through the trees, we saw a sharp turn in the road, marking the halfway point to the boat landing. A fallen tree lay alongside the road. We scrambled on top. Relieved to have reached this point in our journey, we decided to stay put until Daddy came.

We chatted about how fun summer was. We loved the river bottoms. Our imaginations took us on fantastic journeys as Tarzan and Jane, Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, Kings and Queens. We hung onto vines that fell from towering trees, swinging back and forth until we dropped to the woodland floor. Fish cradles became our castles, fallen trees, our fortresses.

The sun had begun to drop behind the Iowa bluffs when we heard a motor. Was it the Puddlejumper? Excited we peered through the trees waiting for the vehicle to appear. I jumped down, standing close to the road. Jim grabbed onto a branch and slid to the path. It wasn’t the Puddle Jumper. Disappointed, we watched as Eezy Becker rumbled toward us. Seeing us, he slowed and stopped. “What are you two kids doing way down here?” Eezy demanded. He and Daddy were good friends and fishing associates. He would often stop by and say hello when we were at the Shanty on the Islands.

Jim exclaimed to Eezy, “We’re gonna meet Daddy when he comes home.” I asked, “Have you seen him?” Eezy told us that he had not seen our dad and that he was probably detained. He insisted that he give us a ride back to town. We hesitated, looking down the lonely road that led to the boat landing. Finally, we climbed into Eezy’s pickup.

Disappointed and tired, we silently rode with Eezy back to town. He tried to explain how two young kids should not be wandering around all alone on that road. We listened, our heads held low. After depositing us at our doorstep, Eezy drove on. We thanked him for the ride and waved good-bye.

An hour or so later, Daddy arrived home. We excitedly told him of our walk to the Islands. He was not amused. We were scolded and ordered never to do that again.

Jim and I spent a lot of summer days together, we played games with the neighbor kids, but we mostly looked forward to traveling to the Islands in the Puddlejumper. We never attempted to walk to the Islands again. We visit our old home town occasionally. One place that we head for is down the road that runs from the back of town to the old boat landing at the edge of the Islands.