My advisor turned to a young boy of about nine years and said, “Now, Jimmy, when he starts goin’, you turn loose of that rope.”
I climbed a few rungs of the homemade ladder and reached high to grab the handle. This position would make anybody feel vulnerable, and I wasn’t exactly flashing my Coppertone tan. I took a deep breath and kicked off of the tree. I was gliding with my feet about six feet off the ground.
Just as I started building up a little speed, I slowed suddenly to a halt, swinging above the edge of the cliff.
A man yelled out, “Jimmy, turn it loose!”
“Um, what do I do, guys?” I asked, still holding on. I was not frantic yet, but the situation was nearing a fever pitch.
“Jimmy, the rope!” someone else yelled.
All I could see were trees on the opposite shore and the rock below me, so I don’t know exactly what happened next. Either Jimmy regained his presence of mind, or someone wrenched the rope free from him. The line’s angle was enough that I again started moving and soon was beyond the edge. As I neared the middle of the creek, the tree on the other side bent some under my weight. At what I thought was the middle, where I presumed the deepest water would be, I let go.
[photopress:creek_jump.jpg,thumb,pp_image]
(Click to enlargerate)
The splash came faster than I expected, so I got a little water up my nose. Then my feet hit the muddy bottom. Oh sh- man! Nobody had mentioned that the water was low. Could have been the reason those kids weren’t swayed. I broke the surface and looked up to the cliff. Several onlookers gazed down at me, but most lost interest as soon as it was clear I was fine.
I swam to the shore to start my climb up the hillside adjacent to the rocks.
As I dragged myself out of the water and got my feet under me, I looked up to the few who still were watching. “My feet hit the bottom over there.” I said between heavy breaths.
Then I saw the snake.
I quickly jumped back into the water. “Whoa. Um, SNAKE!,” I announced. It’s funny how, even if the person you’re talking to can do nothing about it, or is nowhere close to danger, you loudly announce a snake’s presence. Anyone I’ve known does, anyway.
I have no idea what kind of snake I saw. It was scaly and there are plenty of poisonous snakes in Arkansas that love holing up near stagnant water, so I was steering well clear. I chose a spot a little farther downstream and made my ascent just fine, reptile-free.
Considering my experience, talking someone else into going was not only highly unlikely, but just plain a bad idea. As I walked up the hill toward the house to change my clothes, one of my great aunts said, “You surprised me.”
I surprised me, too, and between dangling over the rocks, hitting the bottom, and seeing a snake, it was a little more thrilling than I had hoped. But, naturally I acted cool and said, “Really? Why?”
“I just didn’t think you would be the one to do that.”
I didn’t either, but despite the trouble I had, I resolved to be the stump finder more often.
Man, I must say you are becoming quite prolific. It’s hard for me to keep up with you!
It’s funny that you describe yourself as a “stump dodger”… most younger brothers (who have a sadistic older brother!) are “stump finders”; exactly because their older brothers usually push them into doing stupid stuff!
This story reminds me of an incident with my Dad’s super 8mm movie camera: imagine a cliff wall, a rocky creek down below, and a steel cable with a pully attached to it. Now imagine two teenage boys with an “idea” — to film a creek fly-over, with a camera mounted behind a star wars fighter model: a recipe for disaster (at least, Dad has never forgiven us!) Maybe I’ll get around to blogging this story some day … but life provides so many potential stories!
Just one other comment on your story: I take exception to your vilification of those poor water snakes! The only venomous water snakes native to Arkansas/ Missouri (actually all of the US!) are cottonmouths … and they are scary enough looking that just about anyone can pick them out as being poisonous! 99% of the water snakes you run across are just banded water snakes; although they can bite, the only danger is a little excessive bleeding (their saliva has an anticoagulant). This from someone who grew up on a large stretch of Kansas hill country to traipse around on: our house was built on a limestone outcropping in the middle of the woods, in a region known by the locals as “Rattlesnake Ridge”. We tripped over timber rattlers and copperheads frequently!
Sorry to blog in your comments … shutting up now!
Tsk! Tsk! I didn’t say they all are snakes that live in the water. Just near it. Copperheads included. Timber rattlers, too. Is a cottonmouth the same as a water moccasin? Because we had the latter, too. All I know was my Dad’s adage was “the only good snake is a dead snake.” I didn’t ascribe to that belief at all, but staying away from anything that slithered certainly seemed wise.
Great story about you and your brother(?) and the video camera. If we had one of those when we were kids, oh the trouble we would have found ourselves in.
Oops … now that I read it more carefully, I see that the snake you saw was out of the water! The basic idea is the same anyway… although you can never be too careful, if in doubt. Almost all venomous snakes are pit vipers in the US; triangular heads, alternating brown and black or bands (except the coral snake!). If you go out of your way to learn about them, they are really easy to recognize and it goes a long way toward reducing that sense of panic that may pop up.
Yes, a water mocassin and cottonmouth are the same thing.
Personally, I’ve always been fascinated by snakes, so it was always with a mixture of fascination and regret every time I had to blow away a rattler or copperhead (ahem! not very politically correct, I know!). I once lambasted my brother-in-law for beating to death a garter snake that he found in his yard!
I know … I should be more tolerant, since hatred of snakes is a nearly universal phenomenon; but I’ve found that almost anyone can lose their phobia of snakes if you raise their awareness!
(I hope you can recognize the tongue-in-cheek nature of this post, by the way! It may be difficult since my tongue is currently nearly glued to the back of my swollen throat!)
I am (was) a borderline stump-dodger. The other side of the line though was stump-avoider. That is a story for my blog (I won’t pull a “jim”) but I am glad to hear that you crossed over your line. I enjoyed that story.
Hazel Hazel – Glad you liked it, and that you can identify with it a little bit. I guess stump-finders get hurt more often than stump-dodgers, but they sometimes have more to show for their lives.