Each woman took one of Emily’s hands and caught up to the group. “No, Em, we definitely don’t want to miss the tree throwing!”
As they got closer to the athletic fields, the streams of people swelled into a rushing river.
“Oh, I hope there’s still a place where we can see what’s going on,” Peggy chuffed, walking as fast as she could.
Ian scanned the perimeter of the field for any open spaces. He pointed out a corner. “There’s an opening at that corner,” he said as he lifted his binoculars to check it. “I don’t see any ‘Keep Off’ signs or ‘Reserved’ notices.”
“It’s worth a try,” said Wally.
“I wonder why it hasn’t been taken?” Alice pondered. “It looks like a pretty good position.”
“Maybe a large group just left, and others don’t have a hawkeyed scout like we do,” Annie guessed.
The friends skirted the various gatherings of spectators until they reached the targeted corner, which was still free. Glancing around, they could see no indication that the area was off limits.
Wally opened a chair and set it down close to the flagged barrier. “Here, Peg—a front row seat.” After spreading the quilt for whoever wanted to use it, his wife sat down. Emily first knelt on the blanket but stood up again as soon as the first competition was announced, the Caber Toss.
“Yeah!” Emily exclaimed, barely able to contain her excitement. “It’s tree-tossing time!”
A man in a blue-and-green kilt addressed the crowd. “Lassies and lads, welcome to the finals of the Caber Toss competition. In the preliminaries, our competitors endured a grueling elimination to get to this point. Each finalist will be given three attempts, and the best of them will be used to determine the placing. Judges, please take your positions.”
Two men, one looking to be in his mid-forties and the other at least a decade older, came from under a tent adjacent to the field. The crowd applauded their arrival.
“Remember, folks,” the announcer continued, “the Caber Toss is not judged on the distance of the toss, but on how close to a perfect toss is achieved. I quote from the NASGA rules: ‘A perfect toss will pass through the vertical position and land with the small end pointing directly at twelve o’clock, away from the competitor in an imaginary straight line extending from the competitor through the initial landing point and in line with the direction of the run.’” He paused to take an exaggerated gasp of breath. “No sweat.”
The audience laughed. “Now I see why they need two judges,” Wally commented. “They better be eagle-eyed like Ian.”
The kilted competitors who had made it to the final round filed onto the field, queuing up behind a line. Two teenagers, who looked to be no strangers to weight training themselves, bore the caber, a long section of tree trunk tapered at one end to be considerably smaller than the other. Their muscles strained as they stood it on end for the first athlete, tapered side down.
Dressed in royal blue from shirt to kneesocks, the competitor bent from the waist, stabilized the caber against one shoulder and spread his feet wide. Interlacing his hands, he inched them down to the bottom of the caber, as the audience grew quiet in anticipation. In a burst of power, the man hoisted the tree trunk as he stood up straight, stepping backward a few steps as he fought for control. The audience burst into encouraging yells and whistles.
Control gained, the athlete drove his feet into the grass, staggering forward to increase momentum. The back judge trotted after him—his eye fixed on the caber. Then the competitor stopped, and with a grunt heard around the field, he hefted the wood beam into the air and released it.
Applause exploded around the field as the caber landed in a vertical position, paused for a moment, and then crashed to the ground.
“Not bad for a first toss,” said Ian. “Looks to be somewhere between one and two o’clock.”
Peggy shook her head, amazed. “They do that three times? Those Highlanders who came up with the idea of throwing trees must have been an interesting lot.”
“No telling what people will come up with when they’re bored,” Alice quipped.
The judges had finished recording the first throw and signaled for the next competitor, who failed to turn the caber vertical and had to jump aside as it crashed back down near him.
“The first guy made it look rather easy compared to that one,” commented Wally. “I wonder how much training he does through the year.”
Ian nudged his friend. “Why? Considering a new sport?” He cocked his head to the side as he exaggerated consideration of Wally’s build. “I’d have pegged you as more the Haggis Hurl type.”