Round 5: The Story (The Intro)

"There is no refuge from memory and remorse in this world. The spirits of our foolish deeds haunt us, with or without repentance."
                                                 ~Gilbert Parker~ 

   Over the winter of 2003 my grandfather became ill and had to enter the hospital.  He was a great man, like all grandfathers.  He had lived through the depression, fought through World War II, built a life and a family in the post war days, and sent his son away to college for the first time in our family history.  He was a very proud man, but to me he was just my grand-pa.  When he entered the hospital I went to see him with my parents.  I realized that the hospital was close to a friends place that I frequently visited.  Over the course of late winter and spring I went to visit him almost every evening and just sit and talk.  

   During that time in my life, I was lost.  I had a job, and friends, and a life, but none of it made any sense to me.  I felt like a fraud, because the life I was leading didn't seem like my own, and I was lonely.  There were many nights I sat in that hospital room and listened to my grandfather tell stories, mostly about the war.  He described a time that he was scouting in the bombed out cities of France, alone, weaving through the rubble looking for Nazi's.  He said that he rounded a corner and came eye to eye with a German soldier, alone, also armed to the teeth.  My grandfather raised his gun a split second sooner than the German, and the German was killed.

   I think about that story often.  One second in time was the difference between the existence of us all. Had the German raised his gun first, my father, myself, and Marlow and Quint would have never been born.  Our family name will continue in history, and the difference was a split second in time...............I listened to my grandfather tell a lot of stories about the war while in that hospital room.  I never told many people that I went to visit him as often as I did.  I went because I wanted to be there, and because I didn't want him to be lonely.  I went because I liked to listen to the stories that he told.  It helped me understand what was important in this world, and what was not.  My grandfather passed away a few years later and at his funeral I talked to some family members about those nights that I sat listening to his stories about the war.  My father said that as far as he knows, I was the only one he ever told those stories to.  He didn't talk much about the war, and after listening to the things he told me, I understand why.  My grandfather was a great man, and part of him now survives alone inside me.  That is what it means to have family.

   On the last night I went to the hospital, I remember thinking that my grandfather was going to pass away.  I went to the small chapel located in the hospital and I prayed for him.........then I sat in there for hours and just thought.  I thought about my own life, and I thought about the person I was.  I prayed that I could find some meaning for myself, and some meaning to my life.  One week after sitting in that chapel I started paddling, and I met Marcelle.

“For a moment at least, be a smile on someone else’s face.”
                           ~Dejan Stojanovic~

To continue the story, simply click here..................... The Ole School Days of RVA 

Week 24: The Perfect Rivah - Part I

"The progress of rivers to the ocean is not so rapid as that of man to error."

                                                       ~Voltaire~ 

   Every paddler has a favorite section of rivah.  Some paddlers prefer the steepness of low volume creeks such as the Green Narrows, others prefer big water runs like the Cheat, and yet others prefer the technical slots and boulder gardens of the Upper Yough.  I enjoy all types of runs, from steep creeks to big water, waterfalls to play boating (water ballerina's).  I learned to paddle in WNC, which is full of steeper creeks, so my comfort level is at it's highest when I am creeking.  When I returned to RVA and began paddling the James at higher flows I discovered that it took me outside of my comfort zone, and I found high water on big rivers to be more psychologically challenging for me.  Over the years I have conquered that fear, somewhat, and now feel comfortable reading and running big water Class IV-IV+ rivahs.

   But my love of rivahs is characterized by much more than just the quality of whitewater.  Kayaking is much more than just a trip down a rivah, and it is more than the adrenaline of the whitewater.  Kayaking is a close relationship with Mother Nature, and the balance you have with her is a key component to grasping the concept of paddling.  Remember, kayaking is about finesse, not strength, and the better you are able to understand the movement of water, the more you will be able to work with the currents and exert less energy.  Based on this philosophy, a strong connection with nature will make you a more complete paddler.


"Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience."
       ~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

   I find my strength in nature not through the rapids, but through the calm stretches in between.  Paddling whitewater is competition within myself.  I run rapids so I can grasp balance within myself.  I float rivahs so I can connect with nature.  I find a lot of strength through nature, and recently I discovered that the way I see the world may be completely different than the way anyone else sees it.  I love photography and used to take a lot of pictures (like the pics throughout this post.  Those are all mine)  Photography gave me a way to help others see the world through my eyes.  It gave me a way to express my own personal love for rivahs and for the world around me.

  I explain all this to demonstrate why the Lower Gauley is my favorite stretch of whitewater on earth. The Upper G has world class whitewater, bigger than almost any rivah in the Mid-Atlantic, and it offers great challenges for big water seekers.  But it lacks the scenery of the Lower.  The Lower Gauley is the perfect balance of quality whitewater, beautiful landscapes, hidden crick canyons, fluffy surf waves, big water lines, flowers, animals, rainbows, Care Bears................and it rains skittles sometimes.  Seriously, it does.  I trip down the Lower Gauley is like a trip into another world.  You are isolated, deeply hidden from everything that makes modern society what it is.  There is nothing but forest, whitewater, you and a boat...................................

   

                         

.................pictures do not do this section of rivah any justice.  The whitewater on the Lower G is by no means simple, and sometimes there are moves that must be made and there are places out there that can kill you.  A trip down the Lower G is the perfect balance between every aspect of nature and whitewater.


"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not."
                ~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

   On Saturday I hit the Lower G with a group of RVA boys and soaked up every moment of the experience.  The Gauley has a Middle stretch between the Upper and Lower that contains Class III rapids and more jaw dropping scenery.  Putting in at Mason's Branch, the commercial takeout and site of the epic West Virginia car chase, gun tottin' hillbilly incident, gives a great chance for an easy warm up and float through Gauley Gorge for about four miles.  Mason's Branch is also an alternative takeout to the higher takeout for the Upper, more infamously known as "kayakers nightmare".  After four miles of easy rapids and endless gorges, the whitewater picks up, but the scenery just keeps getting better.  Our group rounded the last turn of the middle gorge and approached the top of an ominous horizon line.  

   The group was relying on me to remember all the lines and lead them through to safety.  On some rivahs, my directions would be precise, and lines would be explained through specific details.  On the Lower G, the conversation usually goes something like this..................

Fellow Boater: "Hey Justin, where do we go down here?"

Me:  "I dunno.  This way looks good."

.............I am not trying to be a dick in these cases.  It is just, there are over 100 rapids on the Gauley that are Class III-V.  That's a lot of whitewater to remember, and fact is, it is a read and run rivah, so no matter how much I run it, I never remember shit about it.  It is a good lesson in "working it out as you go."  I always remember the biggest stuff, and know all the lines, but the dialogue from above was repeated about twenty times on this day.  Plus, I'm crazy.  Why the hell would anyone follow me anywhere.

   The horizon line we were approaching jogged my memory and I turned to the group and said "This one is a little steep."  The rapid is known as "Backender", and it is a series of big waves that end in two offset holes.  The rapid starts on the far right and then works back to the middle.  In my opinion, it is one of the bigger rapids on the Lower section, but technically it is on the middle.  I led through the top of the wave train, working my way over walls of water, straining to see what lurked beyond the next wave.  At the bottom of the rapid I saw a munching hole approaching, so I threw in a right draw and slipped past it.  As I passed I looked down into the hole and remember thinking "hope no one goes in there!"  Well, they did.........all of them.  One after another, like domino's.  As the carnage played out, so did a swim.  The boater was frustrated with himself, which is always the case............but it is important to remember one rule in kayaking that applies to us all.  Everyone is between swims.  No one can escape that.  I last swam at Great Falls two summers ago (which is not a place you want to swim), but I know my next swim might be lurking just around the corner.  Kayaking is 30% physical, 70% psychological.  Once you get in your head it is hard to get out of it.  Swimming early in a run, with twelve miles of Class IV-V whitewater ahead, is a good way to get in your head for the day.


"With the past, I have nothing to do; nor with the future. I live now."
               ~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

   After the carnage was cleaned up and all heads were re-attached, we continued down rivah, passing the Koontz' Flume put in and one of the last spots to escape before the Lower Gorge.  Straight ahead of us lied Koontz Flume, one of the biggest rapids on the Lower Gauley.  The line is straight down the middle, but there are lots of places on either side that you do not want to be, and the water is big, especially for a group who had spent the last two months paddling the trickling water of the James.(Although it was an epic Spring and early Summer, the last few months have been bone dry in RVA)  Our group approached, and I could sense that there was some apprehension in the approach to the next rapid.  I decided the best thing to do was scout the line.  In most cases this is not the best idea to remedy a case of the nerves, but since the line was straight down the middle I felt it could help.  We hopped out on rivah left above the drop and took a quick scout.  I always love scouting, not because it gives you a look at the rapid, but because it gives a chance to take a time out and soak in the scenery.  After everyone saw the obvious line, we hopped in our boats and turned downstream.  Koontz's pulls to the right as you enter the top holes, and it is important to line up heading a little left for the main drop.  I entered the line and made my turn, assuming that the group would follow behind.  As I approached the lip of the main drop I saw the tongue and lined up, dropping through the main flow, passing crashing holes and pour overs on both sides.  The far right side of the drop is ugly, full of chunky, sharp rocks, an undercut, and a sticky pour over hole.  The left side of the drop is a very large, deep hole.  The middle was smooth as silk, and I slipped down through it's guts, punching holes at the bottom of the long tongue.  Once passed the crux, I turned back to check the progress of the group behind me.  As I turned I watched a fellow paddler float extremely far right, just above the drop, upside down.......................damn it.  As his boat approached the lip of the pour over, I watched his paddle pop out of the water and into a set up position.  The boat began to fall over the pour over, and as it did, he rolled, literally while falling over the drop.  He landed in the exploding maw of whitewater at the bottom, directly in front of the undercut, and then disappeared...............................damn, this day was not going well.

"Always do what you are afraid to do."

        ~Ralph Waldo Emerson~

See ya on the rivah..................hopefully in an upright boat.      PEACE

    

   CLICK HERE for Part II of the story.  

   

   

Success through Failure

"Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards."
                                                ~Soren Kierkegaard~

   The Island Chronicles is on hiatus.  The story will be finished, but I am taking time to think before I speak,  edit before I post, and write from my heart, not from the fire which burns inside me................easier said than done.  That fire is what makes me who I am.   But I need to find a balance, and I am working on it.  Apparently modern society is not ready for someone like me, or ready for what I have to say, so in response I am going to try and behave myself while still holding on to that edge that makes my writing blunt, honest, to the point, and sometimes unfiltered.  

   The past two years of my life have been one hell of a wild ride.  There was adventure, tragedy, sorrow, excitement, one time encounters, sadness, enlightenment, joy, new discoveries, risk, chance, failure, and success, plus a hell of a lot more.  The successes are what I hope to take away from it all.  After two years of going non stop, pissing off as many peeps as I possibly could, and living life with no rules, I have found a little peace within myself, and am in a state of reflection.  I only hope this state is what happens just before the state of growth and understanding, and hopefully peace within myself.  So in the meantime I am using my head to guide me, instead of my heart, and the first question I asked myself is, "What have you learned?"  Well, let's find out (My boy Thoreau gets center stage on this one)......................


"Not until we are lost do we begin to understand ourselves."
                         ~Henry David Thoreau~

   The first lesson I learned is that living on an Island makes perfect sense to me.  While living there I ate well, slept well, worked hard, was healthy, was content and sometimes happy (Mike knows what that feels like............to be sometimes happy).  Modern society is a scary thing for someone like me to grasp.  I spent most of my life forcing my mind to question everything that was simple and obvious to everyone else.  Why do we sit and work 40, 50, 60 hours a week just so we can afford a bunch of shit we don't really need?  Why do we feel the need to constantly grow our material wealth, collect new things, use possessions as a representation of who we are?  Why do we watch the Today Show?  Why did anyone create reality TV in the first place?  Why is Miley Cyrus considered a role model, what the hell is twerking?  What is the worlds obsession with Zombie's?  Why do we make our lives as comfortable, as safe, as secure as possible, and then write books, create TV shows, and movies, and discuss things that are the exact opposite.  Is it human nature to fight and survive before being content and secure?  Is our human nature being compromised by the way we are teaching our children to live?  When is the entire system going to fall, and when it does, what will be the outcome?  If the system doesn't fail, will we be better human beings for it, or will we continue to allow the shit that we see, read, learn, and experience to define us based on a common idea that we should all be similar, live similar, and behave in an overly peaceful, controlled way?  (after reading these questions hopefully you have a better understanding of why I lost it for a while)  

   These questions are what called me to The Island in the first place, and they are what call me back to it now.  But there is one thing that keeps me grounded these days..................hope.  The hope that one day I will run to my boys, hug them tight, and never again let them go.  My life is defined by the two people in this world that the system has barred me from being with.  Ironic, don't ya think?  But I will see them again.  It won't be tomorrow, or next month, or maybe even next year.  Unfortunately Marcelle has made that clear.  Every once in a while she responds to an email with one sentence.  It always says the same thing.................."I want you to know that you will always be their father."  Well Marcelle, actions speak louder than words.  My message for you after two years is simple.  I was always a good father.  Let me see my children.  You loved me, and I hurt you, and for that I deserved to lose you.  But I never hurt my children.  All I did was love them.  Please stop doing what you are doing.


"The most I can do for my friend is simply be his friend."
       ~Henry David Thoreau~

   The second lesson I have learned is the lesson of friendship.  I have true friends in my life now, along with the friends who have stuck by my side. Friends who see me for who I truly am, encourage my strengths, and don't judge me for my faults.  In return all I can do is give them all of my respect, and that is what I try to do.  I never would have known who sees me for me and who saw me for a benefit to themselves until all of this happened and until I did something as crazy as live on an Island.  Once I moved there the real people showed up, and damn was it enlightening.  All I did was sit on a giant rock and go kayaking, and write, and so much more came to me than I ever could have discovered out there.  It was so simple, and yet so hard to do.  I find that fascinating.  


"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."
                ~Henry David Thoreau~ 

   The third lesson is that human behavior is habitual, and highly addictive.  With that being said, smart phones will destroy the world.  I chucked my phone in the rivah six months ago.  It made life much simpler.  Yes, it is a pain in the ass for others sometimes, but it helps me control my life.  After six months without one, in a way I have discovered a whole new world................the real one.  You should look up and try it sometime, because there is some pretty cool shit going on in it.


"If the machine of government is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then, I say, break the law."
                                          ~Henry David Thoreau~ 

 

   Lesson Four is that I do not believe we are a representation of our leadership, and I for one am thankful for that.  This is not and will never be a blog about politics, but I chose to re-enter the modern world at an extremely fucked up time.  Our leadership at the moment is an embarrassment.  I am not referring to our current Administration, or Congress, or Republicans, or Democrats, or the Tea Party, or anyone else.  I am referring to all of them.  They are an embarrassment for the way they have behaved and the people they are representing.  But most importantly I worry that the behaviors being exhibited are a foreshadow to our future......................actually, I don't want to think about politics.  It scares me, so obviously I haven't figured this one out yet.................but I know this.  To all those who "lead" our country...................shame on you!


"There is one consolation in being sick; and that is the possibility that you may recover to a better state than you were ever in before."
                                                              ~Henry David Thoreau~

   Lesson Five is that I need to be humble in life.  There was quite a fire raging inside of me for the past three to four years, and I hold my emotions on my sleeve, so it was exhibited rather wildly...............I'm cool with that.  I still have passion, and don't have any regrets, except for allowing the FSW to ever have a part in it, but it is what it is.  I believe that everything that happens in this world has a purpose and happens for a reason, so I am excited for the opportunity to discover that purpose in the future of my life.  My life is an empty canvas at the moment, and for the first time ever I have the brushes and colors to paint whatever picture I choose.  Being humbled is what has given me those tools, and I am grateful for that.

"Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after."
                          ~Henry David Thoreau~

   Lesson Six is that I need to learn to love myself before I can love another.  I loved Marcelle, and still do love the memory of her, but I never loved myself when I was with her.  I viewed myself as trash, and because of that I chose to be with trash, with the Fourteenth Street Whore.  The FSW represented nothing more than what I saw in myself.  I never felt that I deserved to be with Marcelle, and I think I sabotaged what we had because of that.  I knew Marcelle loved me, more than anyone could imagine, and I truly loved her.  I just couldn't accept her for whom she was and she couldn't accept me for who I was.  It is tragic, because there was very deep love there, and I threw it away.  Somehow, one day, I will have to forgive myself.


"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined."
                                   ~Henry David Thoreau~

   Lesson 7 is that I am lucky.  I am lucky because I have had the ability to experience a freedom in adulthood that few people ever get to experience, and that freedom was wonderful.  The trick now is finding a way to hold on to that freedom while accepting some of the flaws of our society.  But for a spring and summer, and really for the last two years, my freedom in this world was untouched.  It is pretty amazing I survived as well as I did for as long as I did.  One of the only ways I did it was the goodwill of others, and for that I am extremely lucky.


"This world is but a canvas to our imagination."
                   ~Henry David Thoreau~

    And finally, Lesson 8, the most important one.  The past is what it is, and the future is what we make it.  I think that speaks for itself.............................there are so many more lessons that have been learned, and many of them are more important than these.  But these are my thoughts for today. After six months on The Island I will never be the same, and that is a good thing.  I have come a long way, but have an even longer way to go.  With that being said, I hope you enjoy the next post................Round 5:  The Story of Marcelle and Me...........you may be surprised how it reads.


"It is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things."
                         ~Henry David Thoreau~

 

See ya on the rivah.....................hopefully on my return to The Island one day.

P.S.  I can't believe I am about to say this, but I am a little bored of kayaking.  A year like the one I lived will do that to ya.  I am looking for something new....................and I think I found it.    
     

    

       

"One Great West By God Yakin' Story"

****Fall is here and I felt The Island Chronicles needed a new look.  Hope you enjoy it, and I hope you enjoy the fact that you don't have to read white type any longer.  To all those who respectfully asked that it be changed, happy reading!...........oh, and be warned, the following story is a story from my past, so read with caution.  Remember, I wasn't always a perfect angel like I am now, so you may not approve of some of our actions in this one...........deal with it.****


"I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."
                                                                       ~Hunter S. Thompson~


   West Virginia is a place unlike any other.  It has world class whitewater, great moonshine, deep, dark hollers to lose yourself in for days, but most of all, it has the best hillbillies in the world.  I love hillbillies.............they don't give a fuck...........about anything.  And they will tell you that if you have a problem with anything they say or do.  Due to this, I relate to them very well, and have used my hillbilly social skills to have some good times while in West By God.  But my first encounter with West Virginia hillbillies was my most educational, so lets go back and tell "One Great West By God Yakin' Story".......................as sad as it is to say, this is a completely true story.


   "Gauleyfest 2012.  I headed up to the hollers of the West By God mountains with a group of rivah guide bums to see what kind of trouble we could cause in one weekend............well, our conclusion is that we could cause quite a bit when fed the proper amount of moonshine.  Our day started with a bright and sunny trip down the "Lower G".  I love this section of rivah.  The whitewater is big, easy, and fun, but the scenery is unparalleled to any other rivah in the Mid-Atlantic.  The gorge walls begin to break down and loosen their grip that they hold on the rivah in the Upper G, forming towering rock walls, sprawling valleys between deep crick canyons, and Anstel Adams like landscapes that roll on for miles.  After a solid ten miles of big water Class IV, the rivah flattens out and long stretches of mountain landscapes reveal themselves as a reward to all boaters...................

Pic featured in the 2014 Hyside Catalog

   ............The best way to celebrate this reward is with a jar of West By God's finest.  On this day, the jars were tipped back and the moonshine flowed strong as we floated deep through the beauty of The Gauley.  We reached Swiss, our takeout, after a solid four hours on the rivah, and geared down for the shuttle. We chose our DD, got in the car, and headed up top to run the shuttle.  The shuttle from Swiss to Mason's Branch is a solid 30 or 40 minute drive.  Halfway through the ride, the pavement cuts away to the left and one of those all to common dirt roads drops away to the right.  Exiting from pavement to gravel can be tricky when you are DDing a car full of moonshined up river guides.  As we came over the hill and exited onto the gravel, a family of West Virginia boys were sitting on four wheelers on the right side of the road.  We swerved quickly around them and kept on cruising down the West By God back road to Mason's Branch.  
   I was in the back seat downloading pics to a lap top and not paying attention to what was happening.  After five minutes or so I looked up and realized we were flying through the forest on a gravel road at about forty miles an hour.  My two fellow boaters in the front seat were talking about racing or something, and I looked behind us and realized there was a four wheeler chasing us.  The driver was in a rather feisty mood, and for some reason was under the impression we were in a Dukes of Hazzard style back roads chase between Bo and Roscoe.  They were now having fun with the situation, while I kept observing the developing scene.
   I looked back again to study what the four wheelin' hillbillies were actually doing.  The four wheeler was a two seater and there were two patrons along for the ride.  In the drivers seat was a West By God good ole' boy, complete with a wife beater, Mountaineers baseball cap, and a big old lipper..................oh, and he looked really pissed off!!  To his right was his beautiful bride, complete with missing teeth, a classic West Virginia muffin top, and some classy tats, possibly prison style.  She looked pissed too.  I decided to take action and try to clear up the scene..........................

Me:  "Dude, they looked pissed."
Driver:  "Naw man, it's cool.  They want to race."
Me:  "I don't think they want to race.............seriously, they look really pissed."

   At this point I was studying the scene out the back window, still flying through the woods in the middle of no where.  I watched the toothless girlfriend pull a white handkerchief out from her back and hand it to her meth'd out husband.  When he took it I realized what it was as he put the handkerchief between his legs and under his seat.

Me:  "Dude, that guy has a gun!"
Driver and Passenger:  "..........................(silence.  They were not really listening to me or believing me)
Me:  "Seriously, that guy looks pissed off and has a gun."

   About this time the four wheeler raced up to our back left as the road narrowed between a rock wall and a steep drop off.  The driver had three choices..................run the four wheeler off the road into the wall, swerve off the drop and into the woods, or stop.  We stopped......................in the middle of the West By God wilderness, being chased by a gun tottin' West Virginia Hillbilly, pissed as hell about something.  This was not good.  


"We are here and it is now.  Further than that, all human knowledge is moonshine."                                                                 ~H.L. Mencken


   The four wheeler pulled ahead of the truck, cut us off, and the good ole boy hopped out and started walking towards the car.  At this point I could see what was about to happen but did not know what to do, so I just sat there and watched it play out.  He walked straight up to the drivers window, pulled out the gun, and put it right up to the temple of the driver...................."Holy Shit!  We are going to DIE!'.  I didn't actually say this but it is what I was thinking.  The dude had a rather crazy look in his eyes, he was breathing so hard he was growling, and sweat was pouring down his face, soaking his dip stained wife beater.  Then light was shed on why this man was about to kill us..........

Hillbilly:  "Boy, you just almost ran over my son."
Driver:  "Sir, I am so sorry.  I did not mean to upset you in any way."  (Smart decision on what to say. After all, there is a gun to your head.)
Hillbilly: "I ought to kill you right here."

   Then the hillbillies girlfriend went off the deep end like a ranting, angry, muffin topped  accomplice always being interviewed on Cops, trying to pull the gun away from her husband, while at the same time bitchin' us out for speeding.  (by the way I agree that they had a right to be angry.  We were in the wrong............but a gun, c'mon.  That's a little much.)  Then more hillbillies pulled up on four wheelers..........about four or five of them.  Wow, things just kept getting worse by the minute.  The first dude looked just like the grandpa on Duck Dynasty.  He pulled up and looked at me, stating,"I ought to cut you up in pieces and leave you in the woods."....................lovely.  At this point I was scared shitless and simply trying to figure out how we were going to get ourselves out of this little pickle.  That is when fellow boaters came to the rescue.  During the ordeal other boaters were coming up the road from the takeout and had stopped, watching how things played out.  Apparently they became tired of waiting, and decided to do something about the situation, yelling that they were calling the cops.  This definitely got the hillbillies attention.  Within a few seconds they were all back on their four wheelers.  They took off, scattering about in four different directions, and then disappeared..............leaving the three of us alone, sitting in the car, in the middle of the woods, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.  
   No one spoke.  We just started driving again in silence.  I kept looking up into the trees, worried that the hillbillies were about to attack with a second wave.  I think we were all thinking the same thing at that point..................."we need to get to other people ASAP."  We made our way down the mountain and to the put in at Mason's Branch.  The entire experience was left echoing in our minds as we drove back to the takeout to tell the tale to our fellow paddlers.
   The moral of the story is simple..................don't ever fuck with West By God hillbillies.  After living in the sticks for a month now, and traveling to the gorges of West Virginia no man's land for half my life, I have learned that West Virginia hillbillies are the real deal, and they are not fond of boaters either.  It is also important to remember that moonshine usually leads to nonsense and should only be consumed when you are not mobile or planning to be mobile within six to eight hours of consumption.  Finally, if you are ever being chased by a four wheeler on a backwoods West Virginia road, whatever you do, don't ever stop.....................at least, that's my advice.  


“When a poet digs himself into a hole, he doesn't climb out. He digs deeper, enjoys the scenery, and comes out the other side enlightened.”
                                                                ~Criss Jami, Venus in Arms~



See ya on the rivah.....................hopefully not being chased by toothless, gun totin', West Virginia hillbillies!    PEACE

   

Week 23: Part II "Bears, Boatin', and The Boondock Saints"

“All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.” 

~ J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring ~

   ...........so let's review.  I am alone in the middle of the forest, no one knows where I am, I just stumbled over the remains of an old still, and I am in West Virginia...............this is not good.  So what happened?  I hate to disappoint everyone, but I was not taken hostage by gun tottin' hillbillies, nor was I considered a "legal killin".  Instead, I actually used common sense and just kept on walking.  (I was tired of writing the other night so I used it as a good transition..............my bad.)  Eventually I pulled out the map and reviewed my path, used the land features to locate my position, and determined I was right where I should be.  Within 20 minutes I was back in the cabin.  It was only when I sat down that I realized just how tired I was and remembered that although I had years of experience in WNC creek hiking, I was now ten years older and no longer playing soccer.  Living on an Island makes you physically strong, but my aerobic fitness sucks at the moment.  Kayaking very seldom pushes my fitness level outside of an elevated heart rate.  Whitewater kayaking is about finesse, not strength, and a smooth kayaker is effortless in his approach to the sport.  Living on an Island doesn't allow much time or room for soccer or fitness.  I just became a lot stronger............which helps.  

   I laid down on the couch and focused on the dead silence that existed in my life now.  Was this what I was searching so hard for?..............maybe, but my head was not focused on understanding it at that time.  I was still trying to figure out why Laurence Gonzales decided to use my life as a metaphor for being lost in the woods.  It truly did freak me out.  If you asked me today why I strayed for even one minute from my family my answer would be..................I have no idea.  Seriously, I don't.  I have been asking myself that same question for a long time.  And if that is my answer then I must be lost.  
   "Bending The Map" continued to explain the relationship between being lost in the woods and being lost in life..................

   "Research suggests five general stages in the process a person goes through when lost.  In the first, you deny that you are disoriented and press on with growing urgency, attempting to make your mental map fit what you see.  In the next stage, as you realize that you are genuinely lost, the urgency blossoms into a full-scale survival emergency.  Clear thought becomes impossible and action becomes frantic, unproductive, even dangerous.  In the third stage (usually following injury or exhaustion), you expend the chemicals of emotion and form a strategy for finding some place that matches the mental map.  (This is a misguided strategy, for there is no such place now: you are lost.)  In the fourth stage you deteriorate both rationally and emotionally, as the strategy fails to resolve the conflict.  In the final stage as you run out of options and energy, you must become resigned to your plight.  Like it or not, you must make a new mental map of where you are.  You must become Robinson Crusoe or you will die.  To survive, you must find yourself...............then it won't matter where you are."

                                                                  "Bending The Map"  Laurence Gonzales

.................so it took me quite a while to figure out that when he said "you must become Robinson Crusoe" he didn't actually mean, "become Robinson Crusoe.".................I'm kidding.  Fact was, it did still matter where I was, so whatever I had come here to find was going to take some work.

"The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time."
                                             ~Abraham Lincoln~ 

    On Wednesday I got in a solo run on the New Rivah after visiting Fayetteville and one of the outfitters about guiding.  Fayetteville is a pretty cool small town, and definitely has a good small town feel with a courthouse in the center of town, some good bars, a coffee shop, and plenty of out of work raft guides, kayakers, and rivah bums to make the town look productive..............notice I used the words "look productive", not "be productive."  Paddle bums are good at chillin', unless it is time to paddle.
    I came to West By God to be alone, so paddling solo was an activity I planned to frequent while here.  Paddling alone in West By God is a lot harder than paddling alone on The Island.  Everything here is really, really BIG.  The shuttle for the New is forty minutes one way, so solo paddling is not the easiest thing in the world to accomplish.  My plan was simple...........drive to the put in, slide my boat into the rivah, enjoy the meditation of floating alone through The Grand Canyon of the East, then hope for the best at the takeout.  As long as I didn't encounter disgruntled RVA paddlers pissed off about references to the FSW or Fat Bastard I would be fine.  (even if I did encounter them, they would probably run away.......they like to play pretend too.)  After two hours of big water Class III and IV and some much needed rivah solitude, I found some fellow paddlers before the last rapid willing to give me a ride back to the top.  They were good people who enjoyed talking about rivah safety, so we had a pleasant ride.
   On Thursday I ran a check out trip on the New Rivah early in the morning.  Afterwards, I drove to a tributary of the New in a town called Ansted. The tributary was Mill Crick.  Mill has a nice little stretch of Class V creekin' on in it, and the entire run is roadside and can be shuttled in about five minutes.  There is a nice 20 footer in there and the run looked fun as hell, but unfortunately it was a low water trickle.  Late in the afternoon I took one of those roads that you probably shouldn't go down in West By God.................I drove it all the way to the end and then a little more.  I parked my car, geared up, and started walking.  As expected, the trail dropped away quickly, this time tumbling toward the Class V section of The Meadow.  Within 20 minutes I reached the bottom of the gorge and started hiking down rivah towards the Gauley.  I wanted to be able to scout and see the rivah and this was not happening from the trail, so I cut through the woods and popped out into the open.  After 30 or 40 minutes of exploring the Class V lines of The Meadow, hoping rocks, and looking for sieves (which there were plenty of to discover) I headed home.  As I hiked out I strolled leisurely through the quiet, moist forest (I just wanted to use the word moist), and I took in the solitude of nature and the fading evening light dancing through the leaves.  After about 8 or 9 switchbacks I came up the trail and heard rock fall coming from the woods ahead of me.  The rocky line of the cliff traversed upwards until it reached the horizon line of a meadow in the evening sun.  On the horizon line I could see a large silhouette moving across the scenic meadow.  Initially my brain told me it was a cow, but then I did a double take, thought about the rock fall and all the noise, and realized I was looking at a bear.  After years of WNC hiking and camping I have had numerous bear encounters (but not as many as Marcelle.  That girl was a bear magnet).  The bears in WNC are the equivalent of large dogs, maybe 200 to 300 pounds.  This bear was the size of, well......, a cow.  The bears in West By God are apparently like everything else hear...............BIG.  But fortunately they are almost always very shy and my new friend dropped off into the woods very quickly.
   I have said before that I do not believe in coincidences.  Well, I also believe in symbolism.  (or is it symbology.............(Boondock Saints......great movie))  Seeing a bear this early in my stay was a symbol to me.  So I did some research on the friendly bear................


"...........the bear is emblematic of grounding forces and strength. This animal has been worshiped throughout time as a powerful totem, inspiring those who need it the courage to stand up against adversity. As a spirit animal in touch with the earth and the cycles of nature, it is a powerful guide to support physical and emotional healing.
The bear has several meanings that will inspire those who have this animal as totem:

•    The primary meaning of the bear spirit animals strength and confidence
•    Standing against adversity; taking action and leadership
•    The spirit of the bear indicates its time for healing or using healing abilities to help self or       others
•    The bear medicine emphasizes the importance of solitude, quiet time, rest
•    The spirit of the bear provides strong grounding forces"

   Don't worry............I do not plan on turning this writing into a "spiritual journey" about life.  But the meanings of animals originate from Native American tradition, and in my opinion the Native Americans knew how to live.  They kayaked, lived in teepee's, lived off the land, believed in community, could hunt, fish, garden, and rock climb, and they were always smokin' some good shit.  What's not to love about that life!

   On Thursday I also found out that a crew of paddlers were coming to West Virginia and I needed to break out Pink and get ready for some paddling.  After a first week that included some solo boating, Mental Mapping, moonshine stills, waterfall climbing, bear sightings, and lots of time for reflection, I was ready to paddle........and it just so happens that my favorite stretch of whitewater just happens to be the Lower Gauley.  Between the scenery and the perfect balance of whitewater and nature, it is a rivah that is rivaled by very few...............and I was living in it.  Looks like this ride is going to keep going just a bit longer.

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!” 

                                                                                         ~Hunter S. Thompson~

See ya on the rivah.................most likely paddling alone.       PEACE

Week 23 Part 1: Mental Mapping, Mental Healthing, and being Mentally Well

“They say a good love is one that sits you down, gives you a drink of water, and pats you on top of the head. But I say a good love is one that casts you into the wind, sets you ablaze, makes you burn through the skies and ignite the night like a phoenix; the kind that cuts you loose like a wildfire and you can't stop running simply because you keep on burning everything that you touch! I say that's a good love; one that burns and flies, and you run with it!” 
                                                                                              ~C. JoyBell C.~

   I awoke Monday morning not quite ready to travel for the hills of West By God..........I was fleeing for what I thought were saner times hidden deep in the depths of The Gauley.  First I needed to transport a lot of equipment from The Island back to my car.  This included a play boat that I initially left behind until the last equipment run.  I knew the water was low enough for an easy swim across a hidden channel, so I planned to use the kayak to float a large portion of gear across the channel, and then attach a rope system to drag everything through the forest, down the train bridge, and up the trail.  The plan was exhausting and took the better half of two hours, but it worked well and I found myself ready to hit the road before noon.  About the time I had finished tying my boat off I noticed a homeless friend of mine parked across the lot from me, so I went to say hello.  He was happy to see me, and we traded stories with each other, caught up, and went our separate ways.  I found it very symbolic that the last person I saw in RVA was one of the forgotten, a homeless man who just drifted through time, and through the streets of our city.
   My drive to West By God was slow and steady.  I stopped many times along the way at different points of interest that had gathered memories over the years.  Overlooks, coffee shops, truck stops (White's), some creeks, Bath County, rock climbing spots, etc.  Each stop surfaced a different memory and a different emotion from throughout the course of my life.  It amazes me how many memories the mountains of Virginia hold.  Most of my life has been spent exploring these places, from Charlottesville to Harrisonburg, Roanoke to Staunton, and every creek, trail, and lookout imaginable.  They hold a lifetime of memories, and I knew this trip had a purpose that was far greater than any trip I had ever taken..........this trip was the difference between the same future and a new beginning.
   I arrived at The Cabin around sun set, unloaded the car, and passed out hard on the couch.  I knew that I had nothing but time on my hands now, so a good sleep was exactly the way to start off a week in West By God.  After all, people come here to rest, to hide, to stop time............they come here for a time out in life. Some just never leave.  I had to figure out where I stood in that equation.........but for the time being, my time had stopped.  I just needed to make a choice about when to let it begin again.


"In all our deeds, the proper value and respect for time determines success or failure."
                  ~Malcolm X~

  I awoke the next morning to grey West Virginia skies,  and a clear head from a good nights sleep.  I cooked some oatmeal, geared up, and headed out the door.  From where I was, I knew that I could access the Meadow Gorge and the second half of The Upper Gauley rather easily.  My plan was simply to hike out the front door and head for the rivah.  I passed a few houses along the way and a nice couple directed me to the end of the road.  Where I live is considered the end of the road.  All of the roads just peter out into dirt, and begin to drop quickly towards the river in a dramatic fall from the plateau to the river bottom.  The trail began to slope downwards, and within a matter of 100 yards you realize you just dropped over the gorge rim.  Everything becomes steep, overgrown, thick, wet, boulder strewn waste lands.  West Virginia also spent the spring and summer fighting a high number of Derechos.  For those of you not familiar with a Derecho, here is a quick lesson...............

   A Derecho is a widespread, long-lived, straight-line wind storm that is associated with a land-based, fast-moving band of severe thunderstorms. Derechos can carry hurricanic or tornadic force and can deliver torrential rains and perhaps flash floods as well as strong winds. Winds convection-induced take on a bow echo (backward "C") form of squall line, forming in an area of wind divergence in upper levels of the troposphere, within a region of low-level warm air advection and rich low-level moisture. They travel quickly in the direction of movement of their associated storms, similar to an outflow boundary (gust front), except that the wind is sustained and increases in strength behind the front, generally exceeding hurricane-force. A warm-weather phenomenon, derechos occur mostly in summer, especially during June and July in the Northern Hemisphere, within areas of moderately strong instability and moderately strong vertical wind shear. They may occur at any time of the year and occur as frequently at night as during the daylight hours. 


   Hope everyone got all that.  Weather is fascinating, and the gorge walls of West Virginia provide perfect vertical wind shear from the oncoming storm fronts to produce Derecho's.  Unfortunately the phenomenon takes fifty year old trees and piles them up like tooth picks ten deep directly on top of the trails.  After about a quarter of a mile of climbing up, over, through, and under giant tree piles, I said fuck it, and cut directly down the gorge walls, instead of following the switch back trail to the rivah trail................This was not the best idea.  I immediately ran into thick groves of the worst stinging nettles I had ever encountered.  For those of you who haven't encountered stinging nettles, they suck.  They make your legs and arms itch and sting, just enough to bug the shit out of you.  They do not leave any left over effects, but stick with you for a few hours after encountering them.  I crawled through about 500 yards of stinging nettles, and rock slides that, well, sucked!  Remember, I have never gotten poison ivy and don't think I am allergic to it.  Finally I popped out on a small, gravel, four wheeler road that was big enough to drive a four wheel drive truck on.........at least where I was that is.  (That four wheel drive road comes back into play later in our story)  
   My conclusion from this initial experience was simple............Derecho's and Stinging Nettles suck, and there are plenty of other ways to access the rivah.  I would not be taking that path ever again.
   The four wheeler trail was about 100 yards above the rivah, and I realized I was close to Tumble Home.  There is a nice tributary on the rivah left side of Tumblehome, and it allows easy access from the four wheeler trail.  I rock hopped my way to rivah level and popped out at Tumblehome and to a Gauley running around 500cfs.  The Meadow River is a major tributary of The Gauley, but it was running low and The Gauley was on a no release day.  This made for very low conditions but gave great views of all the undercuts and nastiness the Gauley has to offer.  I sat down on the rocks, pulled out a snack, and enjoyed the view.
   While there I reviewed the path that I took and pulled out the topo map to get a better feel for the terrain.  This may seem like a simple thing to do when exploring a new area, but it's value is priceless.  Allowing my brain to connect the physical elements that I encountered with a map of the area is a great way to explore mental mapping.  While reading Bending the Map, a short story by Laurence Gonzales about a man who becomes lost in the Colorado Wilderness, I educated myself on a natural instinct we already practice, mental mapping.  Since we have already learned about Derecho's tonight, let's have a lesson on Mental Mapping (this way all the Gen Y crew will lose interest and miss the good stuff)........................

   "Recent research in neuroscience has shed some light on how people navigate.  The way we know where we are is complex, as are the parts of the brain we use - the hippocampus and it's components parts (such as the subiculum, the intorhinal cortex, and CA-3 and CA-1 formations.)  Joseph Deluxe calls the hippocampus "a spatial cognition machine."  Neuroscientists have described how the brain creates mental maps of the environment.  Early research with rats in the 1970's by John O'Keefe at McGill University, among others, provided the first neurophysiological evidence that the hippocampus creates"a spatial reference map" in the brain.  In addition, there are cells that fire depending on the position of the head and others that track the position of the whole body or it's parts.  Still other cells fire only when traveling in one direction.
   O'Keefe more or less accidentally found what he called "place cells" in the rat hippocampus.  Place cells are individual neurons that get mapped to fire when the animal is at a specific place.  Normally, hippocampal cells fire perhaps only once every second on average.  But at the mapped place, they fire hundreds of times faster.  In tests with monkeys at the University of Oxford, cells were found that fired only when the animal was looking at a certain view.  A single cell can map more than one place. 
   So there is an elaborate system involving the hippocampus and other areas of the brain for creating an analog of the world and your motion, position, and direction of travel within it.  It works in concert with other systems to locate you in your mind."  

                                                                  "Bending The Map"  Lawerence Gonzales  


   Did you get all that?  Pretty cool, isn't it?  I tried to remain aware of the mental map my mind was creating as I continued to explore the area, but trust me when I say that trying to concentrate on your own mind creating a mental map while it is actually happening will literally drive you insane.
   After giving up on controlling my own mind, I decided to hike the four wheeler road down river past Iron Ring and on to Sweets Falls.  Iron Ring is pretty ugly looking with no water in the river, with a big ole' undercut on rivah right, and a nice sieve in the middle of the rapid.  Even running it at 500 cfs would be sketchy, because it is steep at low water.  Sweets Falls just looks like a giant pour over horseshoe hole at low water, but the lines are easy.  I rested and ate again at Sweets while looking at the map to scout out a route home.
    I had two choices.  I could hike back up river to the road and then turn up The Meadow, or I could make things interesting.  My ADHD kept telling me to traverse straight up the creek that entered the rivah at Sweets..........so, like every good mistake I make, I trusted my ADHD.  The climb up the creek takes you up about 1700 feet in a half mile.  I knew at some point it would get steep, which can be tricky, but I had done this exact same thing in WNC hundreds of times before.  I started to climb straight up the middle of the creek, but started to zig zag from one side to the other based on where the waterfalls cliffed out.  I have found that most of the time only one side of a waterfall will have a cliffed out section, and usually you can find a climbing route up the none steep side.  After traversing and zig zagging three of four times, a broke off from the creek and started heading through the woods when the steepness lessened.  It is important to remember that trail blazing West Virginia river canyons is not something I am overly experienced at, so all the Outdoor Yuppies reading this can kiss my ass if I am doing something wrong.  I was well aware that I had left the cabin telling no one, with no clear plan, and was now in the middle of a bear infested forest traversing waterfalls alone with only one days worth of food and water, no headlamp, and no whistle.  One fall and I would have been done.  I'm cool with all that.  I didn't really care.  Besides, I have my mental map to guide me.....................

    "Admitting that you are lost is difficult because having no mental map, being no place, is like having no self.  It's impossible to conceive, because one of the main jobs of the organism is to adjust itself to place.  That's why small children, when asked if they are lost, will say, "No.  My mommy is lost."  The sense is; I'm not lost.  I'm right here.  But without a mental map, the organism can't go about it's business and rapidly deteriorates.  So to [a lost hiker] it seemed that he wasn't lost.  [His destination] was lost.  It had to be just around the corner somewhere.  Then everything would be all right.............
................If things get progressively more unfamiliar and mixed up, [the victim] may then develop a feeling of vertigo, the trees and slopes seem to be closing in and a feeling of claustrophobia compels them to try to 'break out'.  This is the point when running or frantic scrambling may occur, as the organism frantically attempts to get a fix on an alien environment."

                                                                                ~"Bending The Map" Laurence Gonzales ~ 

  
   On second thought, maybe I didn't have my mental map to guide me....................but I did have a real map, a good feel for the land around me, a general direction to travel, and a lot of gun tottin' West Virginia Hillbillies just waitin' to shoot the shit out of me for any reason that validated a "legal killin'"............which is not that promising.  I figured if I fell into this scenario, I would use a combination of my "social skills", bartering of safety gear, and my Redneck Training from the Bristol races to overcome the hillbillies.........then I would drink moonshine and shoot some animals with them until the sun came up........At least, that was my plan.
   Once on the rim of the gorge I started following the landscape back up rivah through the forest.  At this point I figured I was probably lost, but that was kind of the point in the first place, so I just went with it, testing the theories of Gonzales and "Bending The Map".............................

   "In daily life, people operate on the necessary illusion that they know where they are.  Most of the time, they don't.  The only time people are not lost to some degree is when they are at home.  (ouch............that one stung a little)  It is quite possible to know the route from one place to another without knowing precisely where you are............Nevertheless, most people normally have enough route knowledge to get them where they are going.  If they don't, they get lost.....................
.........................People have known for ages that going from the protection of society into the wild can have a profound effect on the balance of reason and emotion.  It can induce altered states of consciousness, hallucinations, even death.  The word "bewildered" comes from the archaic verb "wilder".  To "wilder" someone means to lead them into the woods and get him lost."

                                                     ~"Bending The Map" Laurence Gonzales ~


   At this point I found the gorge rim again and realized that I was not going to get lost where I was.  My mental map was well developed, I had done this a hundred times before, I was fit, properly equipped for the day, and I lived on a freakin' island for five months.  This was a walk in the park...............that is when I started letting my mind wander and realized that I was not testing my physical skills in the forest.  I wasn't lost in the woods.  I always knew where I was.................I was lost in life, and The Island represented a lot more than a place that I lived for the past five months.............It was an island.  I couldn't get lost there, even if I didn't know every corner of the rock.  It represented my life perfectly.  As long as I stayed on The Island, I would never be lost again.  Now I was in West By God.  It was big, it was scary, and I was alone.  I could get lost here.
   At this point Gonzales dropped the one piece of knowledge on me that I never saw coming, and it was one heavy piece of reality to have to swallow...........................

   "Everyone who dies out there dies of confusion.  There is always a destructive synergy among numerous factors, including exhaustion, dehydration, hypothermia, anxiety, hunger, injury.  So woods shock (the fear associated with complete loss of spacial orientation), led [the lost hiker] to frantic, poorly planned actions.  Those stresses and actions incapacitated him even further in a tightening spiral until reason and emotion, instead of working in harmony to produce correct action, became like two drowning swimmers, dragging each other down.
   Being lost, then, is not a location; it is a transformation.  It is a failure of the mind.  It can happen in the woods or it can happen in life.  People know that instinctively.  A man leaves a perfectly good family for a woman half his age and makes a mess of it, and people say, he got off the path; he lost his way.  If he doesn't get back on, he'll lose the self, too."

                                                                            ~"Bending The Map" Laurence Gonzales ~


...................................BOOM!  Knock out punch, and it hurt.........badly.  I mean, WTF!............seriously.  Out of all the examples in all the world that you could use to demonstrate the relationship between being lost in the woods and lost in life, and you pick that one.  Did I mention that I don't believe in coincidences, so needless to say, I took it hard......real hard, and I didn't see it coming, which made it even worse.
   I staggered back to the cabin through the woods for about an hour, and discovered some rather interesting West Virginia sights...............two deer stands, a bunch of shattered Mason Jars, some big metal bins, a bunch of plastic buckets, some copper piping, and an old furnace..............did I mention the gun tottin' West Virginia hillbillies waiting to shoot the shit out of me for anything that validated a "legal killin".............yep.  Stay tuned, because this shit is about to get real!

 
                                                                "Buckle up ladies.  This might get excitin'!"
                                                                              ~Bo Duke "The Dukes of Hazzard"~


See ya on the rivah................hopefully not stubblin' upon a still.    PEACE  
                                            
 




   

Writer's Block and Big Changes

"Perseverance is a great element of success. If you only knock long enough and loud enough at the gate, you are sure to wake up somebody."
                                                                     ~Henry Wadsworth Longfellow~


   The Island Chronicles took a little vacation, and from what I have heard the rumor mills have been flying.  I heard I was dead, in jail, even locked away in the crazy house forever..............yep.  All three of them in fact. All at the same time too.  It was crazy...........no pun intended.  Believe what you want.  I really don't care.
   In the meantime, I have been faced with a dilemma that has caused a case of writer's block.  It isn't that I lost the ability to write..............I haven't.  I have just lost the biggest driving passion I had.................anger.  I am not pissed off anymore.  It's strange.  How I came to not being pissed off will be told in Weeks 23 through 27, but the dilemma I face right now is what is important.  I keep asking myself one simple question.................How can I use The Island Chronicles and the story to drive and inspire people, instead of pissing them off?  The stories are at a pivotal point, both the story from the past and the story from the present, and the direction I go from here will define The Island Chronicles and how they are interpreted by all the readers.  There have been plenty of stories from West By God that will be told, but that isn't why people read this............at least not according to the numbers.  They read it to find out what really happened, and how a man ended up living out his days on An Island in the first place.  I wish it were a simple story to tell, but it isn't.  It is a story that a lot of people don't want told, and I have run into an even bigger problem than writer's block.  I have run into censorship.................but the threat that I am faced with isn't in a form that can be measured.  I'm being threatened with my children.  Writing this story is sure to only further separate me from my children and the eventual and obvious conclusion of this story............the day we are reunited.  That message was already sent to me loud and clear.  I kept saying that there is nothing that will detour me from finishing this story, no matter how hard it gets............but now I am facing the one thing that could stop me from writing it............losing all hope of ever being allowed to see Marlow and Quint.  It makes no sense to me.  They have nothing to do with this story and it does not hurt them in the least.  But yet they are somehow involved.  The truth is a lot for some people to swallow.  I know swallowing my truth was tough.  But sweeping things under the rug is no way to live.  Playing pretend doesn't help anyone.  And ignoring your problems will get you no where in the end.
   Like I said, I have a dilemma.  I need to finish this story.  I just have to figure out how..................


"There is a fine line between censorship and good taste and moral responsibility."
                                                                              ~Steven Spielberg~ 

That quote will make you say hmmmmm?...........see ya on the rivah.   PEACE