The Naked Gardener

by L B Gschwandtner

  Then we saw the tent that had blown against a tree and gotten wedged there. Its side had torn, its flaps lay back like an open wound.

  “Look,” Roz pointed to the tent she had shared. A twisted off tree top had squashed it flat.

  “Must have been a mini tornado,” I said as we surveyed the wreckage. Valerie started to shake and couldn’t stop. We all gathered around her but she just kept shaking like a bobble head. Even her teeth chattered.

  “Come on,” I said, “let’s get the canoes turned and see what we can find to eat. We’ll clean them off and we’ll be fine.” I led her away and placed her shaking hands on a canoe. “I’m sure we’ll be okay. We just have to wait. The storm’s over now.”

  But it was like the storm was still raging and she was stuck in its eye. The reality of it was over, but the thought of it stuck. As we bent over the canoe to turn it right side up, she looked sideways at me, her head going up and down like a little bird twitching on a limb. “I could have been in that tent. We could have been killed.”

  “But we weren’t. Come on help me turn this over.”

  We righted the canoe. Then we moved over to the one Charlene and I had lifted during the storm. It was obvious our theory hadn’t worked well or provided much protection from the rain. Everything was sodden and heavy. The canoe facing right side up had a pool of water in the bottom. We lifted the other one off and turned it over. At least that one wasn’t swamped.

  I pulled a rope out of one of the duffels and we strung it between two tree trunks as high off the ground as high as possible and pulled it as taut as we could. Then we started hanging things over it to dry out. We couldn’t spread anything on the muddy ground to dry so we hung things from broken tree limbs and fallen trees wherever there was enough room to keep them from touching the ground. I grabbed the rope from the tree limb and we tied this between two trees also and thus worked our way through the mess.

  The others unpacked whatever fresh food we had left, some fruit, tomatoes, hard boiled eggs, bread. At least the food had been stored in plastic containers and bins. There was no way to make a fire so we ate everything cold and drank juices. When we were fed, we took turns going off to the woods, and then we used bottled water to brush our teeth. Bathing was out of the question. Even cleaning the mud off our feet was a useless exercise. With every step more mud attached itself to our shoes. We were mired in it. The sky was still gray, heavy with low rolling clouds but it didn’t seem like it would rain again.

  We tried to lift the tree limb off of the squashed tent but could not budge it. I untied a rope from the stern of one canoe and we tied this to the limb and tried and tried but nothing was going to move that monster limb so we dropped the idea and untied the rope. Better to use it as a clothesline we agreed and suspended the rest of our wet gear and duffels from it.

  We stopped to rest and have some more juice and, with the immediate work finished, we turned toward the river.

  “Well we’re really in the shit now, aren’t we?” Erica asked.

  Roz added, “How long are we going to stay here?”

  “The pastor from church was going to pick me up this afternoon when we got to the landing above the falls,” Hope said quietly. “What is he going to think happened to us?”

  “Maze is going to go berserk,” I said, almost to myself. “He was going to pick me up there, too.”

  “Will was coming to meet the rest of us.” Erica stared at the water. “I wonder what the river looks like at the falls.”

  “The landing must be swamped,” I said. “There’s no way anyone could meet us there anyway.”

  “I doubt the doctor will be chewing his nails over me. He’s probably in surgery and doesn’t know what day I’m supposed to be back or that I’m even gone.”

  I picked up a tall, fairly straight stick that was lying near my foot. I walked just to the edge of the water and stuck the fatter end into the mud until it wouldn’t go any deeper.

  “What’s that for?” Charlene stood next to me, her shoes looked like mud pies. Some of it had dried to a dull beige around the edges.

  “To tell if the river has crested or it’s still rising. I have no idea how many streams run into this above here. Or below for that matter.”

  I notched a mark at the current water line and both of us stared at the water moving by us fast, swirling and whooshing, sometimes carrying a tree branch, leaves tumbling and shaking. Every once in a while a group of dead limbs all tangled together rushed along on the water like a runaway raft. There were still no birds singing. The forest had an eerie feel to it, as if everything had died overnight.

  We busied ourselves with cleaning the canoes, bailing out the water, shaking our towels and clothes free of leaves and debris. The sun came out intermittently until the last of the clouds rolled away leaving the bright blue sky above us. It was still early. The air began to warm. I heard the first bird chip in a nearby tree and then others answered. The forest began to return to normal. So did we. But without saying it out loud, all of us were unsure of the next move. After collapsing the one remaining usable tent and rolling it away in its bag, we stood around one of the canoes.

  “Well, we have to decide what to do,” I said.

  Erica looked from face to face.

  Roz sighed and shrugged. Hope turned sideways to me, as if I had the answer.

  “I’m willing to try it. I don’t want to hang out here for days just getting hungry and sleeping six to a tent.” Charlene finished by kicking her shoe against the canoe to knock off some of the mud.

  “It looks pretty rough,” I told her. “Maybe you and I could handle it but what about the others?” We stared at the river again as if it could give us some sort of guidance. The stick was still at the edge of the water. At least the river wasn’t risinghigher.

  “Maybe the river will go down some by the afternoon,” said Hope. “How far do we still have to go?”

  I took out the map and spread it on a canoe seat. I found about where we were and pointed to the landing above the falls before the bridge.

  “We’re farther down river than I had planned for the last day. So we don’t have as far to go as we did the first two days.” I looked up at the river. “With the water running this fast we could cover that in a couple of hours I think. But that’s not the problem.”

  “What is?” Valerie asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” Roz motioned to the river.

  “Listen,” I said, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s wait awhile, make a plan for how to navigate the river and see if it goes down some. If we wait until later this afternoon, it could be okay.”

  I got my Swiss Army knife out and cut the torn tent loose. We untangled it from the fallen tree as best we could and stretched it out on a couple of flat rocks by the water.We dragged some large tree branches over to the rocks and constructed a rough bench of sorts, then cut up pieces of tent for mats to sit on and later eat what was left of our food. We busied ourselves cleaning our gear, drying out whatever we could, restoring order from the rubble the storm had created. With the roar of the river filling the forest, I gathered the women around and talked about what to expect on the river whenever we decided to take it on.

  * * *

  I watched the stick I had marked to see if the river was rising or receding. For the hours before it was time for lunch it held steady and then the water level began to drop. While still roiling and muddy, the river seemed to be losing some of its fury.

  We ate what food we had left, packed up our gear, cleaned the rest of the water and debris out of the canoes and packed them up. Then we just watched the river for a long time.

  “We can’t stay here another night,” I finally said to the others.

  They all nodded. It was time to take our chances.

  “Now we all have to wear life vests.”

  We had left them out and now slipped into them, tied them closed over our chests and picked up our paddles.

  “Remember, this wat
er is going to feel different than it did before. What you have to do is maintain your speed. Don’t let the current take control,” I warned. “The objective is to stay ahead of the river. That’s the only way you can hold your course.”

  “What happens if we capsize?” Roz asked. “Do the others try to pick them up or what?”

  “No,” I said. “If that happens, just don’t fight the water. It will carry you down stream. Your life vest will keep your head above water. Try to steer yourself toward a bank or a tree you can grab onto or something stable. Just keep your head up and do not panic. If anyone goes over, we’ll keep going so we can bring help back.”

  “Maybe we should just stay here,” said Hope. “Eventually someone will find us. Or the river will go down and then we can paddle safely.”

  “How long?” Charlene asked. “How long could we stay here? We have almost no water left. Little food. And how long will it take for the river to get back to normal? Two days? Three days?”

  “I don’t know,” Hope said. She looked out at the water and repeated, “I just don’t know.”

  “And how about when we get to the falls?” asked Roz. “Do we go over?”

  “No,” I said. “Since the put in above the falls is flooded for sure, we’ll aim for the big old dock. You know, the one they built for the logging and quarrying operations so long ago? At the old lady’s house? It’s much higher off the water because they used it to offload materials from the big barges they pushed down the river. I’m sure that dock isn’t under water. We’ll head for that.”

  “Okay then,” Erica spoke up. “I’m with Katelyn. I say we go for it.”

  We pushed the canoes into the water. The river swung the bows around and it was a job to hold them steady to get the bow paddlers seated first. Then the stern paddlers pushed and at the last minute jumped into their seats before the rushing river floated the canoes away from the ravaged bank and into the current.

  Erica and I waited until the other two had cleared the water’s edge and then we pushed off and paddled like hell to come up just behind them.

  “Try to stay close behind them,” I yelled to Erica. “That way they can hear me with any instructions.”

  Erica nodded. Paddlers ahead can hear when someone behind them yells but there is no way the paddler behind can hear someone yelling in front unless the bow paddler turns completely turned around. No one in this situation could do that. I didn’t expect Erica to answer me but I could see her nod briefly so I knew she had heard.

  “Hug the left shore,” I yelled to everyone.

  I hoped they could hear me. But I couldn’t be sure.

  Often a river will have one low side and one high side. So far on the trip we had landed on the right side of the downriver flow. But I noticed a change after we took off and it seemed that now the left side was flattening out. I remembered the landing ramp at Trout River Falls was built on the right side where the water was deep and that the mill was on the other side where the water flow was gentler and shallower. There was also the old mill pond where water dissipated before rejoining the river above the falls. The falls would be wild today. We had to pull up before we got there. Erica paddled hard, trying to keep up with the water flow while I steered us always left. The river wanted to pull us to the middle. It was a battle not to let the bow of the canoe get pulled over.

  The other two canoes bobbed ahead of us. Erica yelled my instructions to the first one, with Charlene in the stern and Valerie paddling bow. Valerie yelled to Roz in the stern of the third canoe and she transmitted instructions to Hope. In this way we kept fairly close to each other and to the left bank.

  We were moving very fast. I began to feel in control when a large branch swept by and slapped me in the eye. I faltered and the canoe slid sideways toward the middle of the river. I let out a howl and Erica turned to see what had happened. As she did, the branch slid by and she pushed at it with her paddle, nearly overturning us. She pulled back just at the last minute and I shook off the shock and thrust my paddle back into the water. We came back to the left side and caught up with the second canoe. If I’d had the time, I probably would have panicked but in the situation that was impossible and all I could do was paddle as hard as I could and try not to let the canoe get away from us.

  I noticed an old barn to my left as it sped past. The storm had blown all the way down the river. I saw broken limbs everywhere, trees hanging over the banks, their leaves dipping underwater. Around us it rolled like surf, one wave topping the next. It churned a dusty brown. Every once in a while a disembodied branch would poke through the surface like a body trying to rise from the bottom. The river would take it down again and it would disappear popping up again on the crest of a wave farther down. I saw farm fields battered by the rain and wind. We were leaving the forest behind.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE LANDING

  Our canoes bobbed and snaked in the swirling water. Bows pointed up and then sterns lifted on each swell. We rode down the river so fast it was a blur. We paddled just to keep pace with the water and when we couldn’t match the river’s speed, we paddled just to keep our canoes balanced.

  The river’s natural flow had been replaced by a raging wave that swept the canoes along like little pods on a stormy sea. Frightening yes, but also exhilarating. With adrenaline pumping I focused on the paddles, the river, wave upon wave of gushing water. It wasn’t like running some rapids. On this part of the river there was no discernable falloff. The river ran flat and if there was any gradual fall to the land, the flooded water had submerged it, burying any protruding rocks. At brief moments, when it seemed as if we were doomed to capsize, I regretted leaving the campsite behind but then wondered what else we could have done. And then the river swelled and I could think of nothing but staying afloat and moving ahead faster than the current.

  Erica paddled diligently switching from side to side every few strokes to keep from over using her muscles. I managed to get into her rhythm so that I could steer us as straight as possible, always trying to hug the left shore. Somewhere in my mind was the image of the dock before the falls, upriver from the mill and the mill pond. I thought if we could just get past the other canoes before we reached that dock, I could lead them to it and possibly use it as a backstop. Ramming the dock was the only way I could see to find a place to land where at least there was a building. One thing was certain. We had to get out before we reached the falls. Between here and Trout River Falls, there wasn’t much of anything. All the houses were located below the falls. Above the falls was only forest and field.

  The river widened again, the water climbed up and up the banks as more and more streams emptied into the river. I could see a change and I yelled to Erica that we should try to pass the others. She nodded and we paddled hard, pulling and pulling into the current to get ahead of the rushing water’s speed. We inched up until we came alongside the canoe with Charlene and Valerie.

  “Keep as far left as you can,” I yelled.

  They were paddling hard and it looked like they were getting tired.

  “Stay behind us,” I yelled as I jabbed my paddle into the water again and again. As hard as we paddled, the water just kept coming and it seemed as if we were riding the waves more than we were pushing ahead.

  Still we managed to catch up with Hope and Roz so I could yell to them also. The roar of the water made it hard for me to hear my own voice. Erica called out to them when we came abreast of their canoe and it seemed as if they heard her because we passed them as they let up on their paddling.

  I had no clear idea how much farther downriver the mill was. I looked for any landmarks that might give me some sense of where we were. Then the pull on the paddle shifted. The river flattened out and widened in front of us and the left bank dropped down to a flat plain. We followed a deep curve past a stand of willows whose trunks were half submerged by flood, branches deep in the water, leaves swishing with the current.

  There it was.

  Far ahea
d to our left, we could just make out the dock but its pilings were under water that swirled around their very tops under the dock stringers. Only the decking showed above the water. But just barely. At the same timethere was a distinct change in the roar of water. A higher pitch. A whooshing sound. We were coming to the falls.

  “Paddle hard on your right,” I yelled to Erica. I could only hope the others would follow what we did. I paddled for my life on the right side. The rushing water and the current made it impossible to meet the bank anywhere. I had been right. The dock would be our only option.

  I tried to warn Erica that we were going to crash into the dock but the words never came and I thought she must realize we wouldn’t make a soft landing.

  “Watch your head,” I managed to yell.

  Erica paddled hard and nodded.

  Use your paddle to fend off,” I yelled again but I couldn’t tell if she heard anything above the roar of the water. I paddled harder and harder, keeping us on a course for that dock. As we headed straight for it, I estimated how many strokes it would take to reach it, how close I could come to the bank where it was anchored, how much room that would leave for the others. I hoped they were close behind us. I hoped Erica had heard me and could use her paddle to fend herself off the dock. At that point hope was all I had.

  And then we were approaching the dock fast. We careened through the waves as I tried with all my strength to back paddle, to turn us sideways to the dock and yet keep us hugging the shoreline as close as possible to give the others space to ram the dock after us.

  I managed to turn the canoe across the wave patterns. Water splashed my face and I was quickly soaked. We were so close I could see every board. I paddled and paddled and, as another wave splashed me smack across the face. Erica raised her paddle and extended her arms.