The Naked Gardener (15 page)

“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 ahead 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.

Good girl.
I thought for an instant.

Then we rammed the dock with a great force that tipped me forward. As I went down, I held my paddle up and it smacked against the old wooden dock. The waterpushed us up against it and we bobbed there with the waves running over the side of the canoe. I grabbed a dock board and then a hand came out of nowhere, took mine andpulled me up. Instinctively I reached up with my other hand and whoever was up there took that one and pulled me up and onto the dock where I lay with my waist against the deck boards and my feet still in the canoe.

“Help her,” I heard my own voice but it sounded far away. The world looked crazy from my perspective lying on the rough dock boards. Water lashed the dock and I saw trees scattered all over the land. It looked as if I had landed on some alien planet. Nothing made sense for those first seconds and then the disembodied hand let go of mine and I thought maybe I had only dreamed that part. That no one had pulled me up. At the same time I heard another canoe smack into the dock. Water splashed up the back of my legs and I felt the extra weight of my wet clothes dragging me back down into the canoe. I pulled with all the force I could muster, straining against the hard wood, aware that the rough edges were digging into my arms, tearing at the thin cotton of my summer sweatshirt. Then I clung to the dock with my arms splayed out in front of me, exhausted. By inching my way up, my legs cleared the canoe and I was able to hike one knee slowly over the deck boards. With more than half my weight now on the dock I could pull the other leg up until I rolled over on my side to get my wind back. I was facing the land and for the first time in what seemed like days I was not seeing water.

Above me patches of bright blue scattered through great clusters of rolling gray clouds. I heard the roar of the river and then another smack as the last canoe hit the dock. Someone yelled “Hold on.” Above the roar of the water, someone else screamed “Grab my hand.” I heard the water, heard the voices, but nothing seemed real at that moment. It was as if I was looking down from somewhere high up and all this was happening in slow motion a great distance from me.

When I rolled over onto my other side, Erica was reaching over the dock to help Charlene out and yes, there was another person. A small man wearing overalls and work boots, with gnarled hands that reached down to take Hope’s arms and pull her from the second canoe.

I roused myself then, pushed up onto my knees, stood, rocked a little back and forth. I felt dizzy, weak in the knees for a moment before I could make myself run down the dock to the last canoe. I reached down as the water splashed up and over the dock. On the crest of each swell, the canoes rode high in the water, almost ready to slide over the dock but then came the troughs and the canoes dropped again, bumped against the dock just low enough to hold them from being carried downriver on the current. When a trough came, it was harder to reach down to anyone inside the canoes. With the canoes rolling up and down it was impossible to get a good hold on the dock unless your canoe hit at exactly the right moment on top of a wave.

I tried to grab Roz’s hands but she lost her footing and bounced back into the bottom of the canoe. The others, Erica and Hope and the man wearing work boots were beside me, all of us reaching for Roz and Valerie. And then a huge swell carried the canoe towards us. The man grabbed a gunwale and pulled hard moving back parallel to the dock toward the land.

I realized what he was doing. I grabbed the bow thwart and, on the next upward swell, we yanked as hard as we could. And then, with Valerie and Roz splayed in the bottom, the canoe was on the dock and we were all safe. Dazed, exhausted, some of us bruised, wet and disoriented, but safe.

The man grabbed the other canoes, one at a time, and pulled them onto the dock beside the first. Valerie and Roz sat in theirs for a few more moments, as if they were not yet sure whether they really had landed. With Erica and Hope helping, they climbed out but I just could not move. It felt as if my arms had torn loose from my shoulders. The swells still swept up onto the dock, splashing me again and again.

“Come on,” Erica took my hands. “Let’s get off this dock and onto solid land.”

As she helped me to my feet, we heard a high pitched voice that sounded forced, as if it took the speaker some effort to raise it high enough to be heard.

“Lewis, what’s going on out there? Who are those people? What are they doing out there after this storm?”

Lewis turned away from the water and called out, “I don’t know yet, Missus. Got to get these here boats off the dock. Water’s still comin’ up.”

My hands had begun to shake. I couldn’t stop it. All I could do was watch old Lewis hauling our canoes onto the land. His work boots thumped on the decking. He had no trouble pulling the canoes since we had left the broken gear back at the campsite. When he was done, he turned to face us all standing there on the dock, unsure what to make of our situation or what to do next. He smiled, a shy, confused, little smile at the corners of his lips.

Behind him, an old lady hobbled down the worn path that led to the dock. She had trouble getting through all the storm debris. For a time an uprooted tree stump spread out in a huge circle of earth and roots hid her from view until she got around it. She leaned on a cane. Her gray hair was swept back in a loose ring around her head. She wore blue rimmed glasses, a dark blouse, and long cotton skirt. She squinted at us and raised her cane in the air as a pointer.

“Who are you?” she called to no one in particular. “And whatever are you doing out on that river?” As if there was more than one river.

I couldn’t tell if she was confused in her head or just resentful that we had landed on her property. She stopped where she was and stared at the three canoes and then at us. Lewis walked closer to her. “Well, Lewis?” she said to him.

“I don’t know yet, Missus Ward.” He shook his head.

I felt as if I had landed in a dream somewhere, someone else’s dream maybe. Like the whole day had not happened and I was about to awaken in the tent in my sleeping bag with the birds singing their dawn chorus and we would make breakfast and set out for our last day on the river.

But then Erica spoke up and I snapped back to the moment.

“We’re so sorry, Mrs. Ward. I’m Erica Marston.” She strode over to the old lady and stuck out her right hand.

Mrs. Ward just stared at her, head slightly cocked to one side. I thought maybe she was hard of hearing.

“Lewis,” she barked in that high pitched voice. “These girls look a mess. Bring them up to the house.”

She turned away from Erica and hobbled back the way she had come, thumping her cane hard on the ground with each step. I watched her disappear behind the uprooted tree.

“Excuse me, your name is Lewis?” I turned to the man in work boots. “I wonder could we use the phone? We have to call our homes and let them know we’re all right.”

“No phones,” he said and gave one last yank to a canoe then dropped its bow with a thump where he stood. He turned and started up the way the old lady had gone. “House is up this way.”

“Hey, I don’t know about the rest of you but I peed myself on one of those waves and thought I’d never see land alive again so I’m all for heading to the house, no matter what’s up there,” Charlene told us.

“This is all kind of weird, don’t you think?” Valerie looked from one to the other and Hope looked as if she was still fighting the waves.

“She’s just an old lady who lives alone,” Erica said. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

She reached out and took my hands to help steady them.

“I think I must have pulled some arm muscles or maybe the tendons when we collided with the dock,” I told her. That would have explained the shaking, although it had calmed down some.

“Maybe it’s fear,” Roz stood by my side. “I know I was scared shit the whole way.”

“Yeah but it was kind of exciting, too,” Charlene grinned. “I mean except for the river.”

“What else was there except the river?” Hope asked.

“We’d better catch up with old Lewis before they lock the doors on us,” Erica said and let go of my hands.

“What do you think he meant by no phones?” I asked.

“Yeah, what are they out here, some sort of wilderness survivalists?” said Charlene.