The sun was close to setting, the river was meandering in it’s usual way, and the men in the sailboat worried about finding safe harbor before darkness arrived. The Black Warrior was not a river to take lightly in the night. Snags, shoals, cottonmouths dropping from overhanging tree limbs, cranky bargemen with gigantic tows in their command, cypress deadheads lying in wait to bust keels and props. All the usual dangers for careless mariners, northbound or southbound.
“We may have to drop anchor just outside the channel soon. It’s gettin kinda dark Ned,” Porter exclaimed as he scanned the waterway and gripped the ship’s wheel. Weeks of river travel was balm for his spirits, but was also grinding him down. He kept asking himself why he was doing it. He had a woman and business interests back home needing his attention.
“By my recollection there’s a channel this mile or the next that we can slip into.” Ned stated, consulting his waterway chart and recalling his river journey a year previously. “It’s real narrow and twisting, but it might work for us. If we can squeeze in there’s a small lake once you pass through.”
Ned was the river rat of the two. Porter was the novice in command of his own 40 foot cutter-rigged sailboat, recently built and launched in Saint Paul, Minnesota, roughly a thousand miles and four weeks upriver. Ned did the cooking while Porter did the dishes and took the helm each day as they cruised toward the Gulf Of Mexico, roughly a week’s travel distant.
Darkness was coming on fast. Ned scanned the shoreline for the signs of the hidden channel he remembered well from his earlier river journey. “Cut the throttle Porter, I think we’re coming up on it. It’s just this side of that huge Cypress with the day marker.” They passed the channel and carefully spun the boat so that they could navigate against the river current and ease their way in.
Upon seeing the narrow channel before him, Porter cried out, “What the hell! You’re kidding me. We’ll never fit in there, and it looks like it dead ends!” He brought the vessel to a stop, with just enough prop thrust to keep the boat from drifting downstream.
“Keep moving forward! We can do it!” Ned called out, quickly losing patience with Porter and his attitude, who was slumped over the helm as if in defeat.
“This is bullshit Ned. We won’t fit and I don’t see signs of a lake back there anyway.” “Trust me. I know where we’re going!” Ned replied, anger building in him.
“No! We’ll get stuck and be screwed!” Porter insisted stubbornly.
“Trust me! The sun’s almost gone. Give it throttle and start moving!” Ned implored, while scanning tree limbs for signs of dangling serpents.
“Fuck that!” Porter yelled, his eyes filled with fear. He was scared! Ned couldn’t believe any of it.
“You have to trust me on this one Porter,” Ned replied calmly. “When have I ever let you down? Trust me. There’s a lake somewhere back there. We’ll be fine.”
Porter glared at Ned, his eyes glazed over, and engaged the throttle. “We’re gonna get grounded and stranded! There’s no way to back out of this channel,” he moaned. “We’ll be fine Porter. Trust me. Remember, the more you trust someone, the more trustworthy they are!” Ned said philosophically, still watching for cottonmouths. “Fuck that!” Porter yelled as they crept slowly into the narrow channel.
They moved slowly, barely able to see in the dusk, the vessel barely fitting in the narrow and winding channel deep in the heart of Alabama. Porter worked the wheel and throttle more confidently as they seemed to be approaching wider water. Ned stood at the bow with an eye to logs and difficult turns ahead. Just as the sun had dropped from view, they saw a wide and long lake before them, mirage-like and mystical, with wispy mist just above the surface.
“Well I’ll be damned!” Porter exhaled with relief. “You weren’t bullshitting. This is excellent!” “Do you trust me now?” Ned gloated.
“Fuck that!” Porter responded with gusto.
They motored forward, found a place to drop anchor, and Ned proceeded to cook their dinner, while Porter lit a fire in the wood stove. Then they went out on deck, counting their blessings for a safe harbor with a view of paradise.
CP Butchvarov
2023
Copyright © 2023 by CP Butchvarov