New River Breeze

by Ed Robinson

  New River Breeze

  By

  Ed Robinson

  Copyright 2019 by Ed Robinson

  All rights reserved. No part of this work shall be reproduced in any manner without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Leap of Faith Publications.

  This is a work of fiction. Any actual person or place is used fictitiously. Though some of my work is based on my real life experiences, most of it is a product of my imagination.

  This is dedicated to those that hike, climb, kayak, canoe, camp, and fish in the wilds of northwest North Carolina.

  Contents

  The New River

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Author’s Thoughts

  Other Books in the Mountain Breeze Series

  Trawler Trash Series

  Non-fiction Books by Ed Robinson

  Acknowledgements

  The New River

  Many claim that the New River is the second oldest river in the world, after the Nile. Not many rivers can lay claim to the fact that they are older than the mountains wherein their course lies. Most rivers that have their beginnings in the mountains, slide off their crest, and then follow at the base of the mountains. That is not true with the New. Its two forks converge in North Carolina and then continue to stay within the crest of the Appalachians throughout the river’s duration; basically eroding and cutting through the middle of the mountains as they rose up.

  Many scientists believe that when the Appalachian Mountains were formed, the New River simply rose up with the mountains, and that is why it remains in the crest. Scientists also believe the Appalachian Mountains to be the oldest mountains in the world. It is possible that the New River is older than any mountain range in the world. Finally, the New River’s mountain contorting course has exposed rocks that are over one billion years old.

  (Source-National Park Service)

  One

  The last thing I expected to see on a camping trip was a naked guy running through the woods. I looked at Brody with a shrug, and she confirmed that we had indeed seen a bare-assed lunatic running and rambling in some unintelligible language. Though my curiosity was naturally aroused, I had no desire to chase after him. Instead, we chose to figure out which campsite he had come from.

  We were on the New River, at a camping area that could only be reached by canoe or kayak. We had to carry in everything that we thought we needed to survive for a few days in the woods. I’d been laid up with bad knees long enough to miss being out in nature. They were much better now, but I figured paddling a canoe was a safe enough exercise. All I wanted to do was build a little campfire and look up at the stars.

  We walked along the river, looking for other campers. On the way, we collected articles of clothing strewn about. We saw assorted items floating down the river too. We even came upon a canoe stuck in the rocks at a bend in the river. It was an easy trail to follow, and it led us to a sorry sight. A young woman was sitting on a log crying. She was surrounded by the remnants of a campsite. The tent was shredded. An empty cooler was lodged up in a tree. Food had been dumped from containers and strewn about. I let Brody handle approaching the woman.

  “What’s your name?” Brody asked.

  “Jessie Lynn,” she replied. “Jessie Lynn Naylor.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Just my pride,” she said. “He’s gone plum crazy.”

  “Are you sure he didn’t hurt you?”

  “He wasn’t concerned about me,” she said. “But he sure was mad at our stuff.”

  “What happened?” Brody asked. “What set him off?”

  “He took some of them magic mushrooms,” Jessie said. “He was happy at first; then he got real weird.”

  I listened with interest. I’d eaten mushrooms in my youth, several times. Not once did I get the urge to run naked through the forest. Mostly it had been a pleasant experience. On the other hand, I’d also dropped acid a few times when I was young and dumb. That stuff could make you do some crazy things. My most memorable experience was thinking that I was in attendance at the second coming of Jesus. As it turned out, I was at a Stones’ concert. The old JFK Stadium looked a lot like the Roman Coliseum to me, and all the people flocking to it were Christian worshippers. Thankfully, my friends steered me along and kept me out of trouble until we were safely inside.

  I suspected that the naked runner had taken more than mushrooms. He might not come down for many hours. The girl didn’t have a usable tent or much left to eat. She needed help. I asked her what she wanted to do, and she said she would have to wait for her boyfriend to come back. She couldn’t leave him alone out there. Brody suggested that I could find him and bring him in, but I refused.

  “This is supposed to be a little vacation for us,” I said. “I was hoping for a little ‘one with the wilderness experience,’ not to wrestle a dude with his dick swinging in the wind.”

  “You want her to come to our tent?” Brody asked.

  I did not want her to come to our tent. We rarely had visitors to our cabin. Sharing a tent with a total stranger with a deranged boyfriend on the loose was not my idea of a vacation. I knew that to please Brody I’d have to help the girl, but I was struggling to come up with some alternative method of helping. Just when I thought all was lost, another couple emerged from the trees.

  “Hope it wasn’t a bear attack,” the man said.

  “Boyfriend having a bad trip,” I said. “I’m Breeze, this is Brody, and this young lady here is Jessie Lynn.”

  “I’m Linwood,” he said. “This is my wife Betty, but in the woods, we go by Loon and Chickadee.”

  “We were unaware that we needed woods names,” I said. “We’re just Breeze and Brody.”

  “Bring your booze over to our campfire tonight, and we’ll decide on wilderness nicknames for you,” he said. “Now, what can we do for you, Jessie Lynn?”

  “I’ve got no place to sleep,” she said. “But I don’t want to intrude on any of you.”

  “You don’t have sleeping bags?” Linwood asked.

  “Bobby threw them in the river,” she said. “They floated off that way.”

  “We saw a canoe back in that direction,” I said. “Is that yours?”

  “Probably,” she said. “But I can’t get to it.”

  “Brody and I will try to get the canoe, and we’ll look for sleeping bags,” I said. “Maybe Loon and Chickadee here can help patch up that tent; at least enough to get you through the night. We’ll all meet back here and fix some chow. We can swap lies over the fire while we wait for your boyfriend.”

  “I can’t pay you nothing,” she said. “But I sure do appreciate the help.”

  “We all help one another out here,” Linwood said. “It’s the ‘code of the woods’.”

  I didn’t know much about any code of the woods, but offering a hand when it was needed was just being a good human being. If we could set up Jessie to make it until her boyfriend showed up, that was good enough for me, as long as she didn’t have to sleep with us. Brody and I returned to our camp and launched our canoe. I would have rather had a kayak, but they offered no room to carry supplies. Besides, the river was no deeper than two feet for most of its length. If we capsized the thing, we wouldn’t drown.

  We paddled back to where we’d seen the canoe, picking up a soggy sleeping bag on the
way. For Jessie’s sake, I hoped the synthetic materials would dry quickly. Before heading back to her site, we gathered up some food for dinner and a bottle of Old Smokey Tennessee Whiskey that I’d brought for medicinal purposes. You never know when you might suffer from a rattlesnake bite. I was willing to sacrifice it for social purposes instead.

  There was no sign of the naked boyfriend when we returned to Jessie’s site. The Loon and Chickadee had salvaged enough tent material to make a two-sided structure for her to sleep under. I hung the sleeping bag up in the trees and made sure it was draining well. Brody brought some dead wood and twigs to start a fire under it. Jessie herself wasn’t much help. She seemed to be in a state of shock.

  “You sober?” I asked. “Because you need to get your shit together.”

  “I didn’t eat no mushrooms,” she said. “Just wondering how I find myself out here with nothing is all.”

  “This ain’t no picnic,” I told her. “No help is coming other than what you’ve already got. You’re lucky that there are folks here willing to pitch in.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “I’ve got to stop feeling sorry for myself.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Brody said. “Help me gather up some more wood.”

  Brody and Jessie went off on a wood gathering mission. Chickadee worried over cleaning up the trash from Bobby’s rampage. I got a minute alone with the Loon.

  “You armed?” I asked quietly.

  “Hunting knife,” he said. “You?”

  “Forty cal,” I said. “Plus a knife. Brody’s carrying too.”

  “You think this guy will be trouble?”

  “More likely he’s lost,” I said. “Cold and scared out there somewhere.”

  “Should we search for him?”

  “I’d let him come down first,” I suggested. “He’ll be easier to handle. He might even find his way back here on his own. Who knows?”

  “How much do you know about this area?” he asked. “We’re not from around here. Came down from Maine to check it out.”

  “I’m not schooled on this part of the state specifically,” I said. “But I’m damn good in the woods. I’ve been exploring these mountains for a while now. Do some tracking for the police from time to time.”

  “No kidding?” he said. “So, you’re an experienced mountain man.”

  “Not like Jeremiah Johnson or anything,” I said. “But I know my way around.”

  “I’m a trail guide back in Maine,” he said. “The terrain isn’t that much different here. I reckon I could be useful if we’ve got to go rescue this knucklehead.”

  “Good to know,” I said. “But let’s worry about that in the morning. I brought a little octane to add spark to the fireside conversation.”

  “As did I, my friend,” he said. “Great minds think alike.”

  We got the area cleaned up and secured Jessie’s shelter. Her sleeping bag was still damp, but it seemed to be drying quickly hanging by the fire. Brody made a bigger fire in the designated fire pit which we used to cook hotdogs and fend off the evening chill. When I got a chance, I warned Brody to stay alert for the return of mushroom man.

  “Keep your wits,” I whispered. “Trippers are unpredictable.”

  “I’m alert,” she said. “Don’t worry about me, just take it easy on that whiskey.”

  “Understood,” I said. “But we can’t stay with her all night.”

  “Let me talk to her,” she said. “See if there’s anything to worry about.”

  I sat next to the Loon and produced my bottle. He showed me his, which was Allen’s Coffee Flavored Brandy. I’d never heard of it but was willing to give it a try. It wasn’t as smooth as Tennessee Whiskey, but it left a nice warm feeling after it went down.

  “Fireball is all the rage these days up in Maine,” he said. “But I’ll stick with the tried and true.”

  “We’re too close to Tennessee to drink that stuff,” I said. “Give this a sip. Nice and easy.”

  “That is nice,” he said. “Smooth as all get out.”

  “Smooth as Tennessee Whiskey,” I said.

  “Sweet as Strawberry Wine,” he replied.

  “Warm as a glass of brandy.”

  “And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time,” he finished.

  “Please, Breeze,” Brody said. “Don’t start singing.”

  The Loon was a good storyteller, and he had a bunch of them from his trail days in Maine. He dominated our fireside chat, which was fine by me. I reclined back against a log and looked up at the stars. I also kept my ears open for any sound of movement in the dark woods around us. Brody mostly stood; adding logs to the fire and checking on the dryness of Jessie Lynn’s sleeping bag. Chickadee sat with the poor girl, which seemed to comfort her. The couple from Maine felt at ease in the woods, unlike Jessie. I took an occasional half sip from a bottle but stayed sober. The Loon took healthier slugs, but it didn’t seem to bother him. I noticed him scanning the trees from time to time, just like Brody was doing.

  Eventually, the warmth of the fire and the warmth of the whiskey conspired to put me to sleep. I yawned and motioned to Brody that we should be leaving.

  “Are you going to okay here tonight?” Brody asked Jessie.

  “He won’t hurt me,” she replied. “I’m more worried about him out there in the dark with no clothes on.”

  “We’ll be close by,” The Loon said. “Just holler if you need help.”

  “You all go ahead,” Jessie said. “I’ve taken up enough of your time today. Thanks for everything.”

  “Seriously, girl,” Brody said. “Yell if you’re in trouble. We’ll be here in a flash.”

  I took down the sleeping bag and carried it to what was left of her tent. It was almost dry. The fire was contained in a pit, so we decided to let it burn itself out. Maybe it would provide heat long enough for Jessie to fall asleep. We all pitied her, but we’d done all that we could. It was time to turn in. The Loon pulled me aside before we departed.

  “If that fool doesn’t show up we’ll have to search for him,” he said.

  “Get some rest,” I said. “Tomorrow could be a long day.”

  “Thanks for the whiskey,” he said.

  “Thanks for the brandy,” I said. “It’s been nice meeting you.”

  We pulled the canoes further from the river’s edge and started walking back to our camp. I pulled my pistol from the back of my pants and carried it in my hand. We were soon in near total darkness. The woods took on a spooky feeling. I made Brody stop and stay still so I could listen. I heard nothing alarming, so we continued. Our campsite was undisturbed. I lit a lantern so I could see well enough to build our own fire. I absentmindedly tucked the gun in the front of my pants while I worked. When I crawled into the tent to snuggle with Brody, it pushed up against her.

  “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

  “Shit, sorry,” I said, placing the weapon to the side. “Now, where were we?”

  “I think you were about to demonstrate that today’s distractions won’t affect the performance of your duties.”

  “Only one way to find out,” I said.

  I fulfilled my half of the bargain admirably, but sleep overcame me in a hurry soon after. There was no post-coital cuddling that night. There were no interruptions to our sleep either. If the naked man had found his way back, he was awfully quiet about it. I crawled out of the tent and fumbled with our newly purchased percolator. I restarted the fire and wedged the pot on some rocks to heat up. I wasn’t fully awake yet, so I reached for the pot to pour a cup and burned the crap out of my hand. I made enough painful sounds to wake Brody.

  “Smooth move, Sherlock,” she said. “Go dunk your hand in the river. I’ll pour.”

  The water temperature was still cool enough to do me some good. I’d been quick pulling away from the heat so I didn’t think it would blister. My hand was red and tender, though. I’d been reaching for a coffee pot the first thing every morning
for over thirty years. It was a reflex. The need for caffeine overrode my good sense not to grab a hot pot out of a fire. Brody came down and set a cup of coffee on the ground beside me.

  “Use your good hand,” she said. “Keep the other one in the water.”

  “I guess we should check on Jessie Lynn,” I said. “Offer her some breakfast or something.”

  “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll go look in on her. If she wants, I’ll bring her back.”

  “Is there enough for another cup?”

  “Half, maybe,” she said. “I left a dish towel to pick it up with.”

  The hand didn’t hurt that bad. My pride was in worse shape. Some mountain man I was. I was able to pour the rest of the coffee without further damage. I pushed the rocks around with a stick so they could accommodate a frying pan. We’d brought bacon and fake eggs that came in a cardboard container. We only planned to stay for a few days, and really couldn’t afford to share too much of our food. We could always call it quits and go home where the coffee pot didn’t bite.

  The bacon was cooked, and I was starting the eggs when Brody returned alone.

  “The Loon and Chickadee are feeding her at their place,” she said. “No sign of the boyfriend.”

  “You realize we’re going to have to go look for him,” I said.

  “You just so happen to have some skills in that area,” she said. “An unexpected adventure.”

  “Not one that I signed up for.”

  “It will do you good,” she suggested. “Out in the wilderness, doing your thing.”

  “A naked dumbass shouldn’t be hard to find,” I said. “He’s sobered up by now, wondering how he got wherever he is.”

  “Why do people take drugs that make them crazy?”

  “Mushrooms are relatively harmless,” I said. “He got into something else.”

  “Personal experience?”

  “I tried them a few times,” I said. “A long time ago in a place far away.”

  “What did they do to you?”

  “Some euphoria, happy feelings, seeing trails with any movement,” I said. “Felt organic with no hangover later. Of all the stupid shit I did back then, that was the safest.”