The years of our lives roll ever onward like a vast flowing river. At times the river is smooth and peaceful, the sun reflects off its surface in golden images and heart touching sunsets warm our hearts as velvet nights steal away the daylight.
But when the storms descend and the floods come, the river rages, vast and incredibly angry, vindictive, tearing, ripping at its banks and displaying a power and savageness we fear and shrink from, our helplessness as humans suddenly revealed.
Time suddenly whirled, carried me away, spinning crazily, depositing me unexpectedly in the golden haze of past memories.
When my yellow VW Bug pulled up outside my girlfriend’s home with the canoe on top, Jane’s grandfather stepped out from his garage and studied it thoughtfully, remarking; “First time I ever saw a peapod on top of a pea!”
He chuckled, pleased with his own wit and smiled at me gently. Like the great majority of those who lived through the great depression he was thoughtful, kind, good humored and appreciative of what he now had.
My future wife had been waiting and as Noel and I visited she skipped down the bank in short sleeves and shorts with a baseball cap on her head, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Now I don’t know why, but a pretty girl with a cap and ponytail is particularly attractive to me. Her green eyes were shining and she was smiling. As always, her smile had something of a piratical gleam to it. It was friendly but there in the depths was a certain reserve, a statement perhaps that you can’t pull any fast ones on me buddy, don’t bother even trying! A warm smile certainly but one that also demanded a level of respect.
“Where are you off to today?” Noel asked.
“Going on a float trip down the Allegheny River, Larabee to Eldred. Have a nice lunch and going to do some fishing.”
“Been in a canoe much?” Noel asked his granddaughter with raised eyebrows. Jane stiffened slightly and shook her head no. Noel looked at me assessing.
I felt the scrutiny and informed Noel I’d been in canoes since before I could remember, had never turned 1 over and certainly didn’t intend to today. Besides, the water was rather low and you’d be hard put to drown except in the larger holes.
He smiled and told us to be careful. Jane relaxed, turned and we both waved at her mother who was watching us out the kitchen window. Jane immediately hopped into the passenger seat eager to be away from the parental authority that always hung over the young and dating. I was only a second behind her and fired up the bug. Turning out of the driveway we smiled at each other. Whew, alone at last.
When we reached the river at Larabee we untied the ropes and straps holding the canoe on. Jane grabbed the front end, and we lifted the canoe and set it down. Jane was a strong girl.
We loaded and launched the canoe and in the hole underneath the bridge we practiced back paddling, pulling the bow left and right and reaching forward with the paddle to stop us hitting any obstacles, as well as stressing the necessity for always sitting in the exact middle, keeping us balanced. Slightly apprehensive, Jane did very well and even knew her left from her right. This was something other dates had struggled with to my surprise.
The river is always a haven for wildlife and as we turned the first corner a great blue heron let out a strangled croak of displeasure and launched itself off a log, the 4-foot-wide wings majestic, the long yellow legs dangling. Jane turned and gave me a huge smile; she loved all wild creatures.
As we fished downstream, we saw a big snapping turtle, various ducks, squirrels, a wide variety of birds as well as a deer drinking. At the beginning of the first straight stretch, nicknamed Little Muskie Alley Jane gave a convulsive jerk and a little cry. Looking up I saw a 3-foot muskie had shot up behind her Mepps spinner and lay there staring at her with those yellow eyes just a foot from the canoe. When something that size unexpectedly rushes directly at you it’s startling and scary the first time. In fact, you never completely get over it.
“Do a figure 8!” I cried.
No way, Jane sat there frozen, absolutely immobile, completely intimidated by the big muskie. After a few seconds the muskie turned and shot away, vanishing in the depths. She turned and looked at me with wide eyes, her hands trembling and asked; “What was that?”
“A muskie!” I cried, casting feverishly.
It took some time for me to convince her to keep fishing. She wouldn’t have believed then the number of big muskellunge she’d catch in the future.
A fire, shore lunch in the shade, a rug of fresh cut ferns, sitting in the sun dappled shade beside the serene river. Perhaps, we even kissed a time or two.
It doesn’t seem possible she’s been gone 7 years now, so far away and yet at times so close. I know the rivers are peaceful there, the sun always shines and there in the ferns and the shade she’ll be waiting.
