by Ronn Fryer
Although paddling in completely different canoes, Olivia and Ramona were basically in the same boat. Compulsive gamblers might be tempted on longshots, but any mathematician worth his chalk would frown on the probabilities of wedded bliss for either girl. Still, the world was changing, giving Ramona renewed hope. Olivia, on the other hand, was skeptical that society would ever find the right psychiatrist.
Although the girls still had plenty to say on the subject, Nikki had to pee. Even though it had barely been twenty minutes since they’d resumed paddling, Stacy motioned for the girls to head toward the bank. Nicole hadn’t relished venturing into the underbrush earlier, but her ice-tea had kicked in and she’d vastly overrated the capacity of her bladder. There was a doable strip of sand just before Horseshoe Bend and she seriously threatened to wet her bikini bottoms if Stacy failed to immediately comply. The only choice left now was whether she was going to tiptoe through the pickers or indulge in a waist-deep wade.
The stretch directly before Horseshoe was relatively shallow, and as the girls slid out of the main flow, the current was little more than a series of ripples above a gravel bottom. Everyone found it pretty easy to maneuver their canoes toward the shore, with the exception of Ramona and Keisha.
In order to avoid a protruding branch they’d tried paddling to the left, toward the opposite shoreline. They managed to miss it, but their canoe suddenly stopped eight feet beyond. Kiki looked back at Ramona wondering what had happened. Ramona was just as confused until she looked back at the cooler. Although their canoe had slipped past the snag, the cooler had been caught in the one of most unforgiving parts of the river.
The sandy banks high above Horseshoe have been a favorite party spot for as long as anyone can remember – bonfires and beer abounding. The name originated in reference to the shape of the area created by the tributary that fed into the river. Even though the river is a few hundred yards below, a separate name for the actual riverbend seemed redundant.
Standing high up on the ridge, beside one of the half-dozen norways, the vista is breath-taking – absolutely postcard worthy; nothing to suggest the treacherous power of the log-infested stretch of river sharing its name. The two novice canoers, however, were about to discover the beast lurking beneath the beauty.
Events unfold quickly in a crisis, usually a damn sight faster than anyone’s reaction time. Ironically, Ramona and Keisha seemed to watch everything transpire in slow motion. It never occurred to anyone that the cooler might get hung up on anything. And, so what if it did? You could just untangle it. The end of the tow rope however, was nearly the length of the canoe, too long to reach.
Like an eagle snatching a fat salmon, the branch grabbed the cooler with unrelenting talons. With the line firmly attached at both ends, the current pulled the canoe back into the main flow, leaving them stranded, held fast midstream.
At first there didn’t seem to be any danger, they were simply stuck. If anything, it was rather comical. The cooler kept them from going forward; and, as the girls quickly discovered, paddling upstream was an exercise in futility. The few feet they gained after exerting their best efforts, disappeared the moment they took a breather.
Meanwhile, the other girls saw their dilemma, but could only watch helplessly from the shore. With thirty feet of flowing river between them, the best they could muster were shouts of encouragement and advice.
Stacy, ever analytical, yelled for Ramona to untie the line from the rear of the canoe. It was an obvious solution, one that the French girl had already considered, but even the nimblest fingers were useless until the tension was released. Their original diligence making sure that the line was secure and the constant pull of the cooler had cinched the knot tight. Releasing the tension, however, proved to be more than a minor challenge. The current wasn’t about to subside and pulling on the rope was every bit as futile. The strength of both girls combined wouldn’t have been enough to win such a tug-of-war.
All but pleading, Keisha asked, “What are we going to do?”
Ramona turned to her new partner with the look of a poker player ready to fold. The best she could offer at the moment was a bemused expression – despite the obvious danger, there really was a humorous element to the situation. If they waited until winter they could possibly walk across the ice to shore, assuming the river actually froze.
With a straight face, Ramona asked, “Do you have any night craw-lars?”
“Night what?” asked Keisha.
“Craw-lars – worms” Ramona explained, as if that clarified anything.
Keisha’s look clearly conveyed that whatever Ramona was suggesting could not have been any less clear.
“Well, if we had worms, we could drape them on the rope. Then a big fish might jump up to eat them and bite through the rope.”
Clever as Ramona’s scenario may have been, Keisha didn’t appear to be the least bit amused.
Chapter 33 – Beggars Would Ride
Rather than just stand on the bank, shouting with the other girls, Stacy motioned for Nicole to jump in the front of their canoe. It shouldn’t be too hard to dislodge the cooler. Trying to read the river, she pointed their craft upstream, with the intention of using the current to get into position.
The concept seemed easy enough; the trick, however, was paddling far enough above the snag. In their first attempt they swung around too soon and the current slid them ten feet short of the cooler. The idea was to pull gently alongside and grab the exposed branch as an anchor.
Besides dealing with the river, the only other problem should have been simply a matter of who would grab the branch and who would untangle the cooler. They just needed a little cooperation from the river, but – if wishes were horses – and, sadly there didn’t seem to be a thoroughbred, let alone a sea horse, in sight.
On their second pass they paddled upstream as far as they could. More than a little arm-weary, they again let the current turn them. On this attempt they tried to aim close to the cooler. Unfortunately their aim was too good. Instead of pulling up alongside it, the bow rammed the cooler dead on.
Even though Nicole had made a last-ditch effort to alter their course, fighting the relentless surge of water sapped all her strength. The canoe simply hovered momentarily until the current decided which way to send them. Unable to do anything besides hold tight, they simply braced themselves.
A moment later the aluminum hull bounced over the cooler, moaning as if in pain as it scraped along the branch. Stacy leaned out precariously, reaching as the stern passed by, but her effort nearly tipped their canoe. Tired and frustrated, they finally veered back toward the identical spot from where they’d originally launched.
Tina, meanwhile, had waded out thigh-deep. Swimming to the cooler might be easier than positioning an unruly canoe.
“Be careful!” Stacy warned as she passed her. “That current’s wicked.”
Growing up by the river, Tina had gone down the Au Sable in just about every craft imaginable. She’d frolicked and swam throughout its meandering length, often considering it her personal playground. Familiar as she may have been with the clear, spring-fed water, she was nevertheless well aware of its power and always gave it due respect. You quickly learned to avoid certain stretches – stretches with a swift surface current, a nasty undertow and an underwater forest – stretches exactly like Horseshoe Bend.
Despite Tina’s aquatic ability, she didn’t fare any better than Stacy. This part of the river was just too tricky and the massive log jam beneath the surface made it just that more treacherous. Swimming any distance against the current was nearly impossible. It’s a wonder that salmon ever managed to spawn.
Tina’s determination was inspirational, but in the end it amounted to nothing more than a freestyle fiasco. Exhausted, she finally just rolled over and scissor-kicked her way back to shore, allowing the river its temporary victory.
As soon as Tina got back within fifteen feet of the sandy riverbank, Olivia, who’d been silently sending out
encouragement from shore, sloshed in to help her friend to her feet. After such a valiant attempt, Tina’s legs felt every bit as rubbery as her arms.
Before she even caught her breath, however, Tina chastised her own effort. “I should have started farther upriver.”
Doing her best to console her weary friend, Livvy parroted Stacy’s comment, “That current’s wicked!”
The girls rushed to Tina as she collapsed against the gunnels of the Rebel, trying to catch her breath. Beyond consoling the would-be rescuer, there had to be something they could do. Everyone seemed more than capable of expressing the problem’s intricacies’ – but viable solutions seemed to be proverbially ‘up the creek.’ A dozen scenarios spun through their collective brains, but only one girl sprang into action.
Jennifer was the first to catch a glimpse of Olivia heading upriver. Although it was quite obvious, she nevertheless blurted, “What’s she doing?”
Unable to do much of anything else, the girls simply watched Livvy as she sprinted along the bank, finally stepping into the river a good hundred feet beyond the point of Tina’s entry.
Chapter 34 – Splish Splash
Starting farther upstream made all the difference. Basically dogpaddling, Olivia let the current do most of the work. Even so, her chest was heaving by the time she made it to the cooler. As she approached, she twisted and backpedaled against the water’s surge. Kicking wildly, she winched as her foot smacked one of the snag’s underwater arms.
Ignoring the pain best she could, she wiped hair from her eyes with one hand and clawed for the blue plastic container with the other. Coast Guard approved or not, it’d provide as much buoyancy as the fanciest life preserver. It would have been a whole lot easier had Olivia been brave enough to wear her bikini; wet clothes could quite literally be a drag. Scant bathing suits, however, don’t have any place for accessories.
With legs wedged against the slippery log, Olivia reached into the pocket of her shorts. Even though she never imagined how significant her friend’s thoughtfulness might prove, she’d faithfully kept her promise to Tina – never leaving without the little knife.
Slipping her fingers between the soaked layers of the pocket’s lining, she gripped the cedar handle as tightly as she could. Dropping it was unthinkable. Clear as the water may have been, diving down to retrieve it was not an option she cared to consider. The surface was perilous enough, she shuttered at the very thought of that underwater log jam.
From the rear of the canoe, eight feet away, Ramona shouted, “Be careful!”
A little late for that, Olivia thought, as she continued to brace herself against the relentless current. With elbows tight against the cooler and knees jammed against the snag, she meticulously transferred the knife from hand to mouth.
She was being careful – careful not to drop the knife, and just as careful to focus on the correct side of the blade-opening. Slicing her upper lip was something else she’d prefer to avoid.
Biting down on the soft wooden handle, she managed to get a fingernail (short as they were), into the blade’s slot. With a quick flick of the wrist, the glistening stainless blade emerged, ready for her to cut the wet rope.
Ramona, leaning perilously over the stern of the canoe, repeated her warning. It was the little poet, however, that needed to heed her own warning. Leaning over the canoe’s aluminum endcap made it highly unstable. Had Livvy not been quite so busy, she definitely would have cautioned Ramona.
Keisha also could have said something, but she was nervously shifting from side to side in the bow of the canoe, trying to get the best possible view of Olivia’s progress. It didn’t occur to her that stabilizing the craft was eminently more important. All three assumed that once the rope was severed, the canoe would drift free, and the girls could simply paddle over to their friends along the bank. Assumptions, however, don’t tend to prepare you for other possibilities.
As it turned out, even cutting the rope proved to be challenging.
Although held tight against the canoe’s resistance, it dipped when Olivia applied pressure. Two hands would have been far preferable, but the river simply wouldn’t allow it. She didn’t dare let go of the snag’s protruding branch.
To make matters worse, the pull of the canoe had rotated the cooler, submerging the handle where the knot held fast. Consequently, the rope had wrapped itself underneath the top branch, leaving the closest exposed section nearly at arm’s length.
Observing Olivia’s predicament, Ramona leaned out even farther over the stern. Trying to help, she pushed down on the rope to give it more tension. Seemingly a logical idea at the moment, she never considered the consequences of her actions. Unfortunately, neither did anyone else.
Two things happened almost simultaneously – Olivia cut through the rope, and Ramona fell overboard.
When the rope’s tension was freed, the rear of the canoe instantly lifted, catching the French girl completely off guard. Hindsight would likely have lectured the girls to coordinate their efforts. Releasing pressure on a taut rope was the watery equivalent of someone sliding off the low end of a teeter-totter. As the stern rose, Ramona reached out to brace herself on the aluminum gunnels, but wet hands tend to be slippery hands.
With a look of absolute shock, Olivia watched her not-so-secret admirer plunge helplessly into the deepest stretch of Horseshoe Bend.
Chapter 35 – Three Time’s a Charm
Events don’t happen in stop-time, although it seemed that way to Olivia. The rope slapping the water, her nearly slipping off the cooler when the tension was released, the rear of the canoe rising like a dolphin, Keisha’s face etched with confusion, and the little French girl plunging headfirst into the river – none of it appeared to happen in real time.
The worse part was waiting for Ramona to surface. Olivia seriously feared the river had swallowed her like a delicious morsel.
The freed canoe with Kiki, wide-eyed at the bow, instantly began drifting downstream. Ramona, although underwater, did the same. When the girl did finally reemerge, her distance from the cooler had more than doubled.
After a frantic eternity of scouring the surface, Olivia spotted Ramona’s head pop up, nearly twenty feet away. Livvy was ecstatic – for a moment. Although tremendously relieved, she noticed that something was definitely wrong. The girl’s head was above water, along with her shoulders, but the rest of her body was still submerged. Ramona was oddly stationary in the river. Although the lower portion of the tree held her captive, it was the tree’s stump, jutting barely above the surface that kept her from the unthinkable. Logic dictated staying calm and holding on to the protruding buttress, but whenever her grasp slipped, panic set in and her arms again flailed wildly.
Meanwhile, with legs clutching the first snag and her arm hugging the cooler, Olivia continued to brace herself against the current. Even if she wasn’t sure what the actual predicament might be or what she needed to do, time was obviously of the essence.
Unencumbered, the canoe continued to drift steadily downstream with Keisha, still seated in the bow, staring back helplessly. Even though Ramona had resurfaced, she seemed to be captured by yet another, bigger snag. Her mouth was well above the waterline, but even from that distance, the panic in her eyes was unmistakable.
“Hold on!” Oliva shouted.
Ramona, assumed Livvy was being literal. Between gasps, she tried to explain that she wasn’t trying to hold on – she was being held. The force of her fall had sent her to the depths of the riverbed. Despite the powerful undertow, however, sheer desperation and her natural buoyancy helped the girl fight her way to the surface. The river, nevertheless, wasn’t about to give up that easily. Her foot was now securely wedged in the crotch of yet another of its submerged trees.
A barrage of shouts and instructions rang out from the shore. Some were directed at Ramona, some at Olivia. Just as many, however were pointed toward each other.
Jenny echoed Olivia, shouting, “Hold on!”
“Don�
�t panic!” Nicole advised, her voice ironically high-pitched.
Clueless that Ramona was even caught, Courtney yelled, “Swim over here!”
Ramona, however, couldn’t swim anywhere. Hardly a strong swimmer to begin with, she was desperately struggling to simply tread water with her free leg. And, as if the situation hadn’t become dire enough, the current was quickly sapping her strength. Everything considered, multiple scrapes and bruises extorted by the log seemed a reasonable penance.
Once Courtney figured out that Ramona was actually in trouble, she sought out the most logical solution. “Stacy, do something!”
The voice was unmistakably Courtney’s, although it was hard to differentiate from the voice screaming in Stacy’s own head. Do something – sure, but what? She’d made sure each canoe contained two life preservers. Naturally, they’d only been used as cushions. Besides being ridiculously cumbersome, the stupid orange monstrosities blocked out all possibility of a decent tan. Consequently, Ramona’s life jacket now resided, high and dry, in the canoe already forty yards downstream.
Keisha had finally started to paddle toward shore; but fearful of tipping, she’d remained seated in the front, making it extremely awkward to steer. Worried about Ramona, she fought to reach the bank as quickly as she could, although paddling from the bow it was a wonder she made it at all.
Tina was also worried about Ramona, but she was equally afraid for Olivia. Good Samaritans could drown as quickly as victims. Overcome with frustration, the best she could cry out was, “Be careful!”
Olivia, meanwhile, tried to concentrate on how to save Ramona. It wasn’t that she was unconcerned with her own safety – her heart was absolutely pounding, but the situation was desperate. She didn’t have a choice, the girl’s life was at stake.