What he doesn't know might hurt him

Help us all, Jon has gone kayaking with my Dad.

For those of you who don't know my father and his penchant for water disaster, let me explain. I grew up with horrific, fantastic canoe tales of my Dad and a guy named Carroll Butler. Each story was delightfully disturbing, involving wild animals, floods, and getting lost etc.

My Dad grew up in Florida and because his father died when dad was very young, he never really played any organized sports. What he did do was play music(which he still does extremely well) and, when he became old enough to go off on camping trips, he and Carroll started canoeing. That is where it all began...Dad simply cannot have a normal trip involving a boat and ANY type of water.

One trip ended with Carroll and Dad having to fling their fully pitched tent into the canoe, in the middle of the night to escape from a hungry bear. One of my personal favorites was Dad's "Most horrifying night of my life."

The trip was going very slowly because of so many downed logs in the river, and they both had to work very hard to get the canoe over the logs. Dad always sat in the back and steered, so Carroll would get out of the canoe and pull his half up onto the log (which was generally supended 6 inches above the level of the water so they could never go underneath it).

Then Dad would climb out onto the log and they would pull the canoe past the halfway point, then Carroll would climb back into the canoe and Dad would slide it back into the water on the other side of the log, and then he would climb back in and off they would go..at least for the next 50 yards. Because Dad's feet kept slipping of the logs, he soon decided to take his shoes off. By the second day, his feet were killing him. He decided that he must have stepped on a nest of black widow spiders on one of the logs, and not realized it at the time. But they both had to keep climbing on the logs if they were to get home.

Now their trips were always two days, so by the end of the second day, they came across a bridge and after consulting the map, they "figured out" that the bridge where they had left a car must be the next one downriver. From the map it seemed it should have been this one, but what they didn't know was that this bridge and road were too new to be on a map. The whole area was extremely remote with no signs of humanity.

Obviously the best thing to do was to walk down the road, find a way to cut over to the next bridge, get the car and drive back to meet the one left behind with the canoes.

Carroll had a transistor radio and absolutely refused to leave it as he had clear reception of the FSU game. After telling Carroll that his feet were killing him and he had probably been stung by black widow spiders (he had actually sprained his arches pretty badly), Carroll calmly told him, "I'm sorry Jim, but this game is terribly important and very interesting."

Dad found out later that Carroll was terrified of hitchiking. At the time however, he was sort of feeling very hurt that his best friend refused to go for help and would rather listen to a football game, when dad was probably dying from the spider bites.

Well, Dad put his shoes on and started walking. He looked somewhat bedraggled as he had been on the river for two days, and although this was a very busy road (it turned out to be the new highway extended from Panama City to Tallahassee), nobody stopped for him. He said the absolute worst though was when he tried desperately to flag down two church vans on which the sides were painted things like "Jesus loves you" and "Have a blessed day!" After they were out of sight he thought "This is it...I am going to die a horrible death from spider bites. The more I exert myself the faster the poison will circulate through my body."

Soon the pain became too great to walk with his shoes on, so he took them off and hobbled on the outside of his feet down the highway. Dad was walking East-West and the river was flowing south so he knew that he had to get off the highway. He came upon a dirt road, and found a house! The owner was working in the yard, so Dad asked her, "how far down this road to the next road with the state park on the river?" "Oh, not far at all! Perhaps a mile?"

Dad felt a wave of relief. Buoyed by this he hobbled faster! He turned onto the dirt road, little knowing that this was only the BEGINNING of the worst night of his life.

The sand kept squishing between his toes and the woods seemed to get closer and closer. The night became so dark that the only way he knew he still was on the road was the sand under his feet. Now, this was rattler and moccasin country and the sand was extremely warm. The spider venom is of course running through his veins, and it is probably only a futile attempt to hold onto life, but he tried very hard to stay on the road and not get bitten by a snake.

There were strange sounds...hisses, whines, grunts, and he was terrified. Dad hadn't come across any cars, but after about two or three hours, a pickup truck with a man, his wife and several small children drive by and they STOP! Dad screams, "Help me! I've been bitten by spiders, and I can't find my car!" The man was wearing overalls and sporting buck teeth, the woman was in a dress that looked like it had been sewn from a worn-out sheet, and the children were unkempt...but Dad didn't care. The man reluctantly agreed, "Get in the back of the truck;" then noticeably locked the door.

They drove for twenty more minutes, taking first this turn and then that, on this "mile-long" road. Finally they turned onto the right highway and entered the riverfront park with the car. Dad was so giddy with relief, that he foolishly refused the offer of dropping him off at his car.

Only when their tailights had faded into the inky blackness did he realize his folly. It was of course still pitch black, he remained hundreds of yard from his car. Only now, there was a new sound in addition to all the old ones...an incessant hissing on one side of the road. He thought to himself you have got to be kidding. All of this and a demonic snake of doom?

He very carefully stayed to one side of the road straining to listen and make sure that the snake wasn't moving toward him. He bumped and felt his way from tree to tree, each time brightening at the vain hope that this one was finally the car.

At last he made it to his vehicle. He opened the door, sat down, and took a long moment to reflect on how the nightmare was finally over.

He turned the key, and the engine caught immediately and settled into a reassuring buzz of power. Putting the stick into reverse, he backed away from the riverbank to do a three-point turn and pull away. At the end of the first point, he moved the stick to drive. That is, he tried to put the stick into drive. It would not engage.

The next fifteen minutes were a frantic blur of panicked praying and isometric exercises with the stick, before he realized that the nightmare was still fully alive. He was going to have to back the car twenty-some-odd miles to go meet his friend.

Worse, the reverse-gear lights were too dim to see the trees as he backed up through the several hundred yards of park between his parking spot and the highway. Weaving from tree to tree, stopping to get out and inspect the next few feet in the dim red taillights, and continuing on, he eventually reached the highway. Along this route, his car eventually passed the hissing sound. He took some comfort in the sheet metal now between himself and the "snake." Then his headlights backed up enough to shine one the source of the sound...a faucet that was stuck partially on.

Now, dad was not yet a Christian at this point, but he did a lot of praying anyway. Obviously not very effective, but then again, I was eventually born. Reaching the highway, he decided to try one more time to get into drive. This time, with one last desperate imploring of the Almighty, he noticed that the emergency brake was slightly depressed. Dad never used the e-brake, and had no idea why it was in that position. Pushed down not enough to slow the car's progress, it was just enough to engage an automatic interlock. An interlock that allowed the car to be driven in reverse, but not forwards. Once he figured this out, he released the brake and easily slid into drive. Then he drove the rest of the way back to Carroll with no more incidents.

Well as you might guess, he did live throught this night. He was pretty mad when he pulled up to the canoe. The kicker was when he opened the door and stepped out, glaring, Carroll jumped up and yelled excitedly, "Jim, great news! FSU won!" They went straight to the emergency room, where they informed Dad that he was not bitten by spiders, but had merely badly strained both arches. They bandaged his feet, and after hobbling around the school for the next week on crutches, he eventually fully recovered...(physically).

One of the stories I was involved with personally went something like this. My Dad realized that all of his children were missing out on the wonderful world of canoeing, so he did some research, decided which canoes were best, purchased two of them with paddles and a video on how to paddle (which we watched in the livingroom as we actually practiced our canoe strokes.

When Dad felt we were ready he took us on our first "outing." It actually went something like the previous story. According to the exquisitely detailed "Family Guide to Canoeing in Georgia, Volume I," the river was perhaps the best place in the state to introduce the family (children and all) to the great sport of canoeing.

Within ten yards of putting in, it became clear that we would be doing a lot of walking that day. Other than brief stretches of, oh, five feet or so, we all had to get out and drag the canoes across the moistened rocks and trees. Yes, since the book was published, the county had put in a dam and turned the river's spring into the county's main water source.

Again, falling far, far behind schedule, we eventually gave up at dusk and left the the canoes in cow pasture (complete with herd of cows) by the river. We set out hiking into the dark woods, late at night, paddles in hand. Climbing over fences we soon found a "better" way...an elevated railway with (at that moment) no trains coming.

Eventually we came to a trailer with a chain-link yard and snarling guard dogs. Dad felt responsible so he volunteered to go (actually, I just told him I was listening to an UGA game on my radio...he he he). Fortunately, he didn't have to go all the way through the yard: a guy came out the door toting a twelve-gauge.

But they'd seen us at the Wal-Mart that morning (dad was a Christian by this point), and they gave us a ride back.

And that's only the high points of the story.

Other adventures include freak lightening storms and swarms of piranhic mosquitoes. But we'll leave those tales for another day.

Hmmm...how did I start on this post? Ah yes; Jon's trip with dad today. Tonight I'll tell you that story. And believe me, there will be one. he he he