The Red Canoe

It was not a rental; we had bought this one.  It was one of those highly polished, red, hand-made canoes, with blond, hardwood interior.  It was sleek and slipped into the river as if it were coming to life.  As we sat in it we could somehow sense its desire to hurry and join the rapids.  It didn’t seem to need us at all, and as we pushed off from the shore, we suddenly knew we were right. 

I feel foolish in suggesting some telepathic connection to an inanimate object, yet here we were somehow being told to leave the paddles alone and just hang on, so that’s what we did.

The canoe waltzed easily around rocks and between jagged boulders.  Never did we feel like we had to keep it balanced.  It was in its element and was asking us to trust it.  As silent as a whisper we whisked along the Snake River, spotting deer and bobcat at water’s edge.  Neither seemed concerned at our passing.

As the river turned and twisted, so did we.  Never once did we feel nervous or scared that we’d go off course or scrape bottom.  It felt as through we were a part of the river itself.   

During a time when we weren’t spotting wildlife along the shore, I thought back on the old man who had crafted this boat.  After seeing it in person for the first time, we didn’t even haggle about the price.  We both could see the care and quality that had gone into making it. 

I think, because we didn’t even question the price, Mr. Clemens liked us right off.  He was an older man who seemed to enjoy smiling.  His eyes twinkled and he laughed at my lame jokes and stupid questions.  He could tell we were not experienced canoers, in fact, he threw in the life vests for free, but added, “You won’t need them.”  And then he laughed and laughed.

His shop was the back part of his house.  Everything smelled of fresh-cut wood.  There were no band-saws or wood lathes, only wooden mallets, hand tools, and expensive-looking chisels.  Partially completed canoes hung from the rafters, and one wall was entirely covered with a canvas tarp.

I remember asking him what was behind the tarp, but I only got a wink as an answer.  I put it out of my mind, thinking it must lead to another part of his home, but now – out here on the river with a canoe that seemed to have a spirit all its own, I’m starting to rethink that.

The other thing I found odd about the old man’s shop was the absence of paint fumes, or the smell of varnish.  I wondered if someone somewhere else did the finish work.  No, I can’t imagine he would let anyone work on his creations.  Maybe it was the tarp that divided the shop.  I guess it was possible the painting and final work was confined to a better ventilated area, and that area had been blocked off by the giant canvas, but none of that explained the mysterious life-force built into this amazing craft.

  

We could see the clouds were quickly coming in from the west.  We had ponchos in our packs, but it seemed too early for concern.  Apparently, the canoe did not agree and headed towards the shoreline, drifting to rest under several overhanging branches.  The canoe senses were spot-on as a sudden downpour began.

Sandy dug our sandwiches out of our packs and while we waited for the rain to let up, we had our lunch and hoped the scent of our food wasn’t going to attract any woodland creatures.  We felt a little more than vulnerable sitting so close to the shore, and so low to the ground.  I tried to talk with her about our red canoe’s abilities, but she quickly hushed me, indicating we’d talk later, when we were alone.

When we were alone? I thought.  I wasn’t nervous before, but now I was a little concerned.  Did Sandy think this canoe could hear us?  If we weren’t alone out here, where would we be?

It was like someone had turned a faucet off, the rain stopped just that quick, and as soon as it did, our canoe drifted out from under the branches and rejoined the swift current out in the middle of the river.  Neither Sandy nor I said a word.  We just held on.

                                          *******

I don’t recall exactly what time it was but Sandy and I seemed to realize at the same time that we had no idea where we were, or how far down river we had gone.  I tried to hide the panic in my facial expression, but wasn’t doing a very good job of it, for when Sandy turned around and looked at me, I could see the fear in her eyes.  

“What do we do now?” she said softly.

“We'll each pick up a paddle and head towards the shore.  From there we can find higher ground and maybe a cell phone signal.”

Of course, we didn’t know how the canoe was going to take to being guided by us over to the shore, but we had to give it a try.  We each picked up a paddle and slipped them into the river.  We could feel an almost imperceptible hesitation from the canoe, but then all control was ours.  It was that simple.  It’s like it simply relaxed and now we were in charge.

When we hit the edge of the bank, the back of the canoe swung around, and we were sitting parallel to the tree line.  The woods looked thick and it was going to be no easy task hiking anywhere.  I asked Sandy to stay in the boat and keep a paddle handy just in case any wildlife were to come sauntering up.  She didn’t like the thought of that at all, and quickly picked up her paddle and laid it across her lap.

I slowly and carefully stood and stepped out onto the shore.

 "I’ll try not to be gone too long".

“Who are you going to call?”

“The Ranger Station is listed on the bottom of our map.  Hand it to me, I think it included the phone number.”

“Yes, it’s here.”

“Thanks.  I shouldn’t be long.”

As I took my first steps into the woods I couldn’t help but think of all the spiderwebs I wouldn’t see until it was too late.  I imagined the multitudes of small insects that would attach themselves to my clothes, especially to my socks.  All of them I pictured with tiny, sharp teeth, long fangs and pinchy-grabby things, most of them I’d never see, but surely feel.

All of these thoughts were consuming me, which helped to keep my mind off of getting lost.  I was trying hard to pay attention to which direction I was going, but it was almost impossible to do while stepping over rocks and going around large trees and thickets.  Then I heard a noise.

Something, not so small, was making its way through the trees.  I couldn’t tell which direction it was headed, but it was sure close enough to hear, which means it also heard me.  I just stood perfectly still and tried not to breathe to heavily or smell tasty.

 *******

It seemed simultaneous, the unmistakable snap, just behind me, of a crisp twig underfoot, and a rush of adrenaline sending chills up my spine. I remember that much, but I did not awaken until I felt the sharp stinging in the back of my hand.  As I brought my hand up to my face to see what on earth was biting me, I saw that an IV that had been taped to my hand.  

Confused, I looked around.  I was in a hospital bed.  What had happened?  I tried to remember, but all I kept seeing was Sandy sitting in the canoe with the paddle across her lap.  She was telling me to hurry back.

Where had I gone, and…  oh yes, the woods.  I was trying to find higher ground to get a cell phone signal.  Where was Sandy?  Was she okay?  With my other hand I felt around the edge of the bed for a buzzer.  I wanted to call the nurse.  I needed some answers.  How did I get here?  And how long had I been here?  Where was Sandy?

Again, I thought I heard a snap, but I could see it wasn’t.  It was the click of the door to my hospital room opening. 

“I see you’re awake.” The nurse said as she approached my bed.

“What’s going on?  What happened?  Is Sandy okay?”

“The doctor will be in shortly and explain everything.  I just need to check the IV and take your temperature.”

“You can’t tell me anything?”

She didn’t even try to answer me, which was alright because just then the Doctor came into the room. 

“How are you feeling?” The nurse stepped aside as he lifted my wrist to take my pulse.

“Where is Sandy?  Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she is out in the waiting room.  She can come in after we’re done here.  How’s your head?”

“As a matter of fact, it hurts.  What happened to me?”

“As your wife explains it, you were both looking to buy a canoe when one of the boats that was tied to the rafters broke loose and came crashing down on your head.  You’ve been unconscious for some time.”

“I don’t understand.  Didn’t we buy the red canoe, and take it out on the river?” 

“I’m afraid not.  You left the boat shop on a stretcher.  I’ll go and let your wife know she can see you now.”

The End

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