September 25-26, 1926

The rain has ceased by the next morning. Though the sun is beginning to force its way through the clouds, the ground is still wet, and the cars splash through puddles as you begin your journey out of Arkham and to Blackwater Creek.

Blackwater Creek lies on a rural road a little to the east of Dunwich, barely represented by a dot on the old road map that Knoll gave you of the Miskatonic Valley. The least inhospitable route from Arkham still involves extensive travel through the back roads and dirt tracks of the Valley. The quality of the roads diminishes the further west you get from Arkham, and once you pass Worcester, the condition rapidly becomes much worse. As you travel further into the Valley, the few settlements you come across become more rustic, and the glances the locals shoot you less welcoming.

Before we set off I related my findings at the Library to the group:

The first day of driving is long, tedious, and nervewracking, but ultimately uneventful. The night of the 24th is spent on a quick stopover in Worcester after 15 hours and 60 miles on the road - even though you left with the sunrise before 7 a.m., you don't arrive at a motel until after 10 p.m. The lodgings are fairly dingy, featuring rooms that have been coated with a patina of tobacco smoke set into the walls, carpets, and furniture.

The next morning you're off after a quick and underwhelming continental breakfast. Progress continuing west past Worcester is labored, due to the utter lack of roads - you find yourselves driving stretches of road that seem to have been developed by virtue of repeated use rather than any formal civic project. Where there are actual roads isn't much better - they're uneven and littered with potholes, forcing drivers to bob and weave erratically around them. Even driving at excruciatingly slow speeds, the cars bump and rattle the entire way along.

It's on one of these backroad stretches, only a few miles outside of Worcester, when Caden's old jalopy finally meets it's matched. An unseen pothole... Caden's lead foot on the gas peddle... And all of a sudden, BANG! From inside the vehicle, you hear the loud pop and feel the car lurch as the front tire on the passenger's side gives out, forcing you to the side of the road.

Looking around you, there's really not much. The road you're on is little more than a pair of tire tracks nestled between some hills on one side, and trees on the other. The road curves out of sight in either direction. Nestled in the trees along the curve is a small cottage, surrounded by a yard and a wooden fence. There's someone inside the yard, leaning against the fence and smoking a pipe, watching you.

I get out of the car (if it can be called that) rubbing my knee which banged hard against the car when we hit the pot hole. "Holy smoke I though we were going off the road then!" Strolling round the car "Lets have a look at the damage and see what can be done, I'm quite good with my hands really".

Turning to Caden "I might be able to do a bodge job, but it might make things worse." Nodding towards the person smoking the pipe "Let’s see if that guy can help first before we have to resort to desperation mechanics. I’ve got a couple of bucks in my pocket which might sweeten his attitude towards us.".

Caden nods, smiles and walks towards the man. hey there. Bet that pot hole runs afoul of anyone who doesn't know the roads, doesn't it? Any way you can give us some help? He rocks on his heels, hands in his pockets trying to act casual as he smiles at the man.

The man is an old farmer with a big, white, bushy beard. His eyes twinkly as you approach, and the corners of his lips hint at a sly smile as he looks Caden and Fulbright.

"You boys look pretty shiny to be out in these parts. Must be a long way from home. What's your names, where you fellas comin' from?"

Names Caden, we're travelling up from Arkham

"Johnny Critchlow. What then's a couple a city slickers like you doing out in the middle of nowhere? Y'can't get to New York this way, ya know."

He chuckles and tosses a glance at your car slumped forward where the tire blew out. "She gotcha pretty good, huh? Gotta say, gave me a chuckle seein' that rust bucket pop up in the air like that. I don't mind takin' a look and seein' if I can't help. But hey," he says, leaning over the fence and puffing on his pipe, "what are you doin' out here? Only ask 'cause it's so rare we see anyone pass along this road, let alone folks from the city."

I beam a smile. "And I’m Eric. We’re on our way to Blackwater Creek to see a friend. We haven't been there before and didn't realise how bad the roads would be. If you can help in any way we would be mighty grateful."

Driving skills check

Critchlow stops moving at the mention of Blackwater Creek, and he turns to you, his face darkening. "Blackwater Creek, eh? What kinda friend do a couple a nice lookin' boys like you have in a place like that?"

He opens his mouth to say something else, but instead just shakes his head, putting his hands up and slowly backing away towards his hovel. "Any friend you have out that way, you'd be best off just forgettin' about. Uh-uh, I'm sorry fellers, I don't think I can help you out anymore, unless it's for you to turn that car around and head back where you came from."

At this, Frank and the Professor come huffing around the corner of the road, dragging their belongings behind them, bags under their arms.

"You couldn't make it either?" the professor gasps breathlessly as he drops his bags in the middle of the road.

I got hired to rescue some scholar types like him that got into trouble up there.