You can see my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
Yesterday was the “Arts and Gardens Tour” around the Robson Valley, which allowed residents to see some of the spectacular local gardens of their neighbors. I am too much of a lazy gardener to be part of the tour, but the Foster’s, our neighbors, who are very serious about their garden did have their garden on display. Above is a photo of their well-manicured garden.
As far as the “Arts” part of the tour, they asked my wife if she would hang some of her quilts near the garden and so, with her fingers crossed that it wouldn’t rain, she did.
The photo above shows me emerging from a cave during on of our spelunking expeditions, but before you read today’s blog, you might check out yesterday’s blog because I posted a new photo showing a bit of the train trestle and tunnel that I had written about. I was sure I had some pictures, but couldn’t find them, until I realized they were from old movies not photographs.
Now, today’s blog:
One of the most memorable of my caving experiences always comes to mind whenever I hear some reference to the 1972 movie “Deliverance” which is about some urban canoeists traveling to an extremely rural area populated by “Hillbillies” to run a wild river that was about to be flooded by a dam. The locals didn’t much like seeing these “city folks” in their area that ultimately led to trouble. The experience I had wasn’t as extreme as what happened in the movie, but with “Deliverance” in my mind, it was pretty upsetting.
On our caving trip, we set up camp in Burnside State Park in Southern Kentucky, then proceeded some distance down a highway before turning off and traveling down some dusty country road that took us further and further away from civilization. I am not sure how, whoever was directing us, ever heard about this cave in such an obscure place.
We stopped, unloaded the carbide caving hats, coveralls, and backpacks and other caving equipment before hiking to the cave which was just a small hole on a rocky slope. Into the dark, damp void we crawled, one after the other. I don’t remember anything special about the cave and after about four hours my wife, who was along, and I had had enough of the dark gloom of the cave and so turned around and crawled back out into the beautiful green, fresh-aired, world outside. The other spelunkers continued to explore the cave.
My wife and I, happy to be back outside, hung around, exploring the area between the cave and the van, which was parked on the edge of the gravel country road. As the two of us were looking around, I spotted a lanky rough country-looking local man walking down the road toward us toting a rifle.
Seeing the gun made us nervous. The man came over and started talking to us. We were friendly toward him and explained about the cavers inside and how they would be coming out any minute. We were both getting bad vibes about the guy as he talked to us. Then the hill country man started telling us about making corn liquor in his still, and that increased my anxiety. Making illegal moonshine was something I just didn’t want to hear anything about, but we continued to humor him, wishing he would go away.
After about a 30 minutes, the guy did finally leave and continued ambling down the road with his rifle on his shoulder. We were relieved, but remained nervous about him.
Eventually, Dan, my cousin came out of the cave. It was probably around 4:00 in the afternoon. He suggested that he would drive us back to Burnside State Park, drop us off and we could begin cooking supper while he returned back to the cave to pick up the other spelunkers.
On our trip back to the campsite we told Dan all about our visit with the gun-toting hillbilly. Dan dropped us off at our campsite, then immediately return to pick up the others.
At dusk, Dan returned with just one of the other cavers. He said he met Bob walking down the highway, and Bob didn’t know where the others were. He explained that when the others came out of the cave there was gunfire, and the group all hit the ground, then scattered in different directions.
Dan and Bob got back in the van and headed back to the cave site in hopes of finding the others. Joan and I remained at the camp, bewildered and anxious about what had happened to the other cavers.
It was dark when Dan returned and we were very relieved when we saw all of the remaining cavers climb out of the van. They had all eventually made it to the highway, where Dan picked them up. It was a hair-raising and certainly a memorable caving experience, but looking back all of the interesting things I remember all happened outside, not deep in the recesses of a cave.
When we were kids we were taken several times to Mammoth Cave National Park in Kentucky. It was exciting to be camping and to go on the daylong tour of Mammoth Cave, seeing its stalactites, stalagmites, and the other limestone formations that had developed over thousands of years. Perhaps the most memorable moment on the tour was when the tour guide turned off all of the lights and we sat there in TOTAL silence and darkness.
In our late teens, my cousin Dan and I returned to Mammoth Cave several times to camp and go on the cave tours. I think it was probably around 1972 that my cousin Dan started doing a lot of spelunking with friends who were also interested in caving. They organized caving expeditions to some rather unknown caves they found out about in Kentucky.
A few times I was able to join in on their explorations. It was alway a strange feeling to be in a cave, lying on your belly, trying to crawl through the mud of a low narrow passageway and suddenly think about all of the tons and tons of rock lying between you and the outside world.
Most of those caving trips took place in rather wild areas of Kentucky. I remember on one of our excursions we were traveling to a cave in someone’s mini-bus. The vehicle was slowly bumping up a weed-grown, unused trail on the side of a hill. As it climbed the steep trail narrowed. I was sitting in the passenger side when the bus began to get closer and closer to the steep drop-off at the edge of the hill. It was at this point we stopped and the driver suggested that I open the door and check how close we were to the edge.
I opened the door and put my foot down through the high weeds. My foot went down and further down. The truck was literally resting just on the edge of a cliff. I got back in and we all kept our fingers crossed as the bus slowly, with a lot of braking, inched its way back down the slope.
The group set up camp across from a cemetery. The area was forested mountainous country with steep valleys. There was a railway nearby to where we camped. Looking down the track we could see that it traveled over a trestle that spanned a deep canyon and then beyond that went through a tunnel.
In the group was a family with a couple of kids. The father and the kids wanted to explore the railroad trestle and went down and started walking down the track. The idea sounded crazy and dangerous to me, but I went along. We had gotten out on the trestle a bit, when I heard a train. I tried to tell everyone without showing my panic, to get off of the trestle and return to flat land quickly. Luckily, everyone made it back before the train rounded the corner.
Looking back now on those caving trips, I realize that it wasn’t being in the caves that I remember, but the things that happened outside. I do vividly remember the entrance of one of the caves we explored, because a creek about one and a half foot deep came right out of the cave’s mouth. We had to wade through the water to get into the cave. Once inside the cave the creek channel was off to the side and we could walk on firmament.
The photo above shows my cousin Dan, checking out creek coming out of a cave. Below, walking the trestle before the train came.
I have another caving story for tomorrow.
View my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
This 1981 novel is based on a true story that began in 1755 in a small pioneer settlement in the frontier of Virginia. Mary Ingles and her two young sons were outside their log cabin, when their settlement was attacked by a band of Indians who brutally killed Mary’s mother, her infant niece, and other residents in the hamlet. Mary’s husband and brother who were some distance away working in a field, didn’t even know about the attack.
Mary, her two boys and sister-in-law were abducted by the natives; forced to travel with them as they made their escape. Mary, in hysterics, who was pregnant and near her delivery date, was put on a horse with one of her sons as the party traversed through the rough mountainous wilderness for days, then weeks as they headed for the tribes home. She gave birth to a girl along the way. The Indians treated her with understanding during the birthing and the ordeal of their travel, compared with the brutality they had demonstrated during the attack.
They seemed to gain respect for Mary, after the brave and unflinching way she gave birth and the dignity she tried to maintain despite her fear. The head of the raiding party seem to show her special attention.
On the 800 mile wilderness journey to the Indian village, the group followed various rivers, finally traveling a long distance beside what is now the Ohio River. Mary made herself try to remember the landmarks along the way, thinking they would be the only way she might ever find her way home to her husband.
Once they arrived at the Indian village, Mary strove to keep her dignity and seemed to maintain the special status she had been given my the warrior leader. Her two boys adapted quickly and seemed to thrive in their new life with the Indians. Her baby was often cared for by a young woman who had recently lost her baby. There were several other captive whites in the village, including an older Dutch woman named Ghetel. Also there were two French traders that lived with tribe.
Mary rejected a chance to live with the warrior leader and was then given to the French traders and made to make clothing which they sold. At one point she and Ghetel were taken by the French traders to collect salt and Mary convinced Ghetel it was their chance to make an escape back to Mary’s pioneer home. An escape meant Mary would leave her two boys, who seemed to like Indian life, and her infant daughter who was loved by the young Indian maiden and would never survive the trip back to the pioneer settlement.
Mary and Ghetel made their escape with only a hatchet, blankets, and the clothes on their backs, into the wilderness. The whole latter half of the novel then concentrates on the epic struggle the two women had to endure in their attempt to get back to Mary’s husband. Their trip was horrific, eating the roots of plants once nuts and berries disappeared when winter arrived. Eventually they were without blankets and clothing due to mishaps and wear. Even cannibalism reared its ugly head as they starving women struggled to stay alive.
Mary often had to guess which rivers and creeks to follow. They often had to hike miles up the tributaries in order to cross them then backtrack to get back to the river they were following.
Follow the River is a fascinating account of the terrible ordeal that the two women undertook, and their unwavering determination and will to survive. It is a true story that will amaze the reader.
View my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
We’ve had a couple of days of thunderstorm warnings and did experience several storms. The atmospheric turbulence did create some dramatic cloud formations around sunset last night.
The thunderstorms overnight did stress out Kona again and led to another sleepless night for me as she again clung close in bed. She ended up spending the night on my pillows and tight against me, so I spent the night trying to sleep without a pillow and clinging to the edge of the bed.
Today the weather has cooled, our heat wave seems to have ended and hopefully the storms have all passed over. I am overdue for a peaceful night of sleep.
I had a horrible night last night. Kona started pawing my bed at 2:30. I figured that she needed to go outside, so I got up, walked downstairs, put her on a leash, grabbed a flashlight and took her outside. She didn’t seem that urgent to do anything, but she did do a short pee. I thought it was a bit strange that she woke me up for that.
We came back in the house and then she was all nervous and jumped on my bed. She clung tightly beside me, then it began to thunder outside. It must have been distant thunder or a sense of thunder, that woke her up in the first place. Kona is terrified of thunder and trembles in her panic of it.
When the thunder intensified, she couldn’t be calmed. She pawed at my neck, draped herself over my head, nervously twitching and bumping me relentlessly, despite all my efforts to calm her. I tried to hug her tightly to give her security, but it didn’t ease her at all. Eventually the thunder ceased and slowly Kona calmed down, but she stayed cuddled up tight against my head.
Then Lucifer the cat jumped up on the bed and she positioned herself tightly against my right side (Kona was clinging on my left). I was unable to go back to sleep, afraid to move and cause agitation to the animals. I lay there motionless, with my eyes closed, trying to sleep, but then the pets were joined by a mosquito that kept trying to get its ounce of blood from me. Every time I felt like I was getting close to dozing off, the mosquito came buzzing around my head.
Another wave of thunder came throwing everything back into chaos. This was then followed by another period of calm with the pets, but the mosquito continued to bother me. Eventually I did finally fall asleep and managed to get an hour and a half of shuteye, but upon wakening, I sure didn’t feel very rested.
You can view my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
