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MAMMOTH

By

ALAN VAN WILLIAMS

Dick Rock awoke with the sun. Head throbbing, vision blurry, he found boxer shorts and stepped out on the deck to savor a joint and watch mist shrouded green water swirl by below; majestic blue heron crept slowly along far banks, beavers swam purposeful upstream; just below the surface hovered a long nose gar fully four foot long. At nearby falls a lone wader retrieved rainbow trout. Sunshine began to hit oak tree tops on bluffs west, all around Dick’s house and surrounding bank dwellings. Thick forests of dripping bamboo shrouded shuffling raccoons in forest fern, monkey grass, or trash bin. Already busy blue jays swooped from sycamore branches to attack crusts of bread. Dick swung to begin his appointed task of racemaster, watching semierect penis slacken slowly, then smiled to a coffee sipping housewife next door. "Tomorrow's the day," he said with excited grin, she nodded wryly.

He slipped on tie died kimono robe and trotted briskly; barefoot, to the visitors lobby building. Tossing a few Spring Hill Condo frisbees to some kids, Dick greeted a filthy softball team warmly. They had just finished a tournament, and wished to enter the tour. Dick eyed the unshaven bunch warily, "You guys uh, smoke?^” All nodded, "yeah," "do you mind camping out?" "No." "Follow me guys, did you win?" He led the noisy bunch through the lobby, shouting instructions to pages and checking with the night man. A group of fly fishermen confronted him brusquely. "What the hell is this shit?" said one of the very well dressed men. With angry Irish warble he continued "this brochure says serene, and exclusive, this place is a bleedin' madhouse." Dick swung grandly to encircle the dozen or so people in the building, “All of Spring Hills is abuzz."

The man began to speak very loud, tone one of threat, "look I'm tellin you asshole. I don't like canoers." "Sir you are at the wrong river this particular weekend. Hey the big trout are up tributaries anyway."

The softball team pushed through, the multinational fly fishermen grumbled, muttering back to rooms or out toward the river. Outside was big commotion as some sort of fraternity chant accompanied the screech of tires. That's when the window burst inward. Two guys in togas simulated sex on the floor amid broken glass. Laughing buddies rolled a van into a fire hydrant. "Call the fire department" commanded Dick to the receptionist, all watched the two giggling humpers roll away from each other and look to him apprehensively. The others staggered in, quieting, looking incredulously at Dick in his kimomo. "I hope one of you guys have a gold card."

Boy scouts and headmaster examined bright orange salamander fully a foot long, swimming briskly in a cooler. "Hellbender," he announced as excited scouts voiced affirmative. Dick held a hand for silence, "endangered, put him back in the water, now." He confronted flustered Professor, who observed the animal carefully. "I just wanted to document the size," said the kerchiefed teacher boys chimed in, "we got our camera wet." "Lori!" shouted Dick to pert receptionist, "take a picture of this salamander, now so they can release it asap." He unlocked a closet and took a mountain bicycle from a hanger, then swung to the softball team, "you know, I toss a wicked spinner."

Dick played frisbee with a massive Saint Bernard puppy as he walked the bike across the lawn, escorting the team to a corner yard of the condo, not far from the spring mouth. They rejoiced, rolling in wet grass, tossing bags to the ground. "See you in the tour," Dick yelled to them, tempted to take a plunge as did some of them, but began wheeling about the grounds quite briskly, easing through several hotel parking lots and condo pool areas. The seven o'clock freight honked through, drowning sounds of outlet falls and rapids down to the little dam. Thick fog rolled from the mammoth spring to fill valleys. Sun lit up many white spots of flowering dogwoods on far hillsides. A group of kayakers and hanggliders eased out of a parking lot with support crew entourage. Ammish lumberjacks clearing land for cable gathered at the feed store, watching awakening parks and eateries with quietly acknowledged smirks of glee. Nerds with swimming flippers and masks struggled awkwardly with some sort of pedal contraption. Japanese tourists rented paddleboats. A huge Russian hoisted a tanker of ale high, plopping into the ice cold spring, "is warm!" Dick smiled to him with thumbs up.

He slowed to admire the contest for last. Several boats and rafts packed the back corner of the pond above the massive spring. Each competing for last. Fully ten barely maneuverable craft floated, anchored or tied to the bank. Dick confronted an instigator of the contest, a guy high atop a sail contraption, with tanning collar and oil, catching first rays of morning. "I came up with some rules for you." The tanner sat up with interest, "oh?" Dick massaged a temple, thinking hard about rules established in a drunken daze the night before. "Mo, uh, everyone must leave the spring pond by noon." The tanner smiled ruefully. Others in nearby boats rolled sleepily out to listen. "No anchors. Of course no engines." He paused as several listeners repeated rule one to groggy partners, "no anchors." "Uhh, the winner must finish, that means portaging the dam and bridge, navigating all rapids, and in fact finishing the race." He cruised slowly away as the buoyant group discussed revelations.

Far side a water volleyball game slowly readied. Several big athletes stretched and warmed. Several Gold Circle Condom inner tubes swirled in thrust of the spring. Lumberjacks cheered a comrade swimming fully clothed out to capture one of the shiny donuts. A Heavy metal band rolled into a spring side hotel, Leather clad longhairs staggered in fog as earthy groupies tossed pot seeds and fussed over a mushroom in the mulch of a circle of junipers. Dick smiled, meandering down to the outskirts of Mammoth. Posh pool party tuned up below the dam. Security cruised driveways and bustling convenience store in large cars and mountain bikes or horses, livestock frisked with traffic out on flat fields outlined in cottonwood and cypress; the flood plain.

In little sassafrass amd granadine jungle beside the creek ford Dick surprised some crack smoking hunters, obviously wired from a night of poaching. The men glared, and Dick eased on down, stopping at a bleached gravel beach to think. Angry beaver backstroked into view and splatted a tail, eying Dick then circling the vantage point to see the massive four wheel drive of the poachers. Dick straddled a step across tributary, stretching low to study mayfly nymphs under lilies and a leech scattering tiny crawdads. He noted a pile of deer guts, several frog heads, and a beaver paw.

Drunken lumberjacks raced through on mountain bikes followed by a horseback man cursing in peculiar Amish fashion. Private security at ranch gates watched carefully, suddenly Frat canoes came shooting the first falls, fighting with paddles and flipping, washing up at the exclusive ranch where an armed scuba diver sprang from sea weed to confront them. Dick watched amiable owners laugh with hapless visitors as he crawled  responsive mountain bicycle along rough rocky road, waving to fishermen and tourists. Some lumberjacks panned for gold, across the river huge country wedding prepared under towering, swaying sycamores and stalwart bur oak fully massive. Through steep valleys and gravel washes Dick pedaled, surprising young deer, snorting at cattle, popping wheelies and jumping from rocks. A glorious day was beginning.

`    Dick rolled along washed out gravel roads startling shuttling woodchucks on edges of hay fields, sleek muskrats in marshy corners, a huge woodpecker hooted flashing through dappled forest canopy. Lanky blue heron lifted majestically over a hickory grove and followed the creek canyon. Dense forest of towering oak, maple, sycamore and ash, with a mid level of hickory, persimmon, and sassafras shaded an underjungle of dogwoods, redbuds, bamboo and buckeye. Paw paws and honeysuckle closed in as Dick crawled over shelf rock through crooked creeks. Dick knew that among shelves of ancient rock goldenseal, feverfew, ginseng, and mushroom laced lines of rotted logs and rich forest mulch. Up ahead was the shack of Geezer. The old prospector had lived on this river since the thirties, providing herbal remedies, some not so legal. He was already collecting cans, entertaining drunken canoers with tales of snapping turtles the size of Volkswagens, cotton mouth water moccasins eating full grown turkeys, gars like kayaks, and catfish; chuckled dick, the old man gesticulating to some tourists, oh, yes, the catfish this man had seen. Someday Geezer would strike his mother lode, thought Dick, and that day would be glorious indeed.

Dick was in no bullshitting mood this morning. He swung up ridge and followed high road with love of exertion, laboring up rocky slopes, resting on coasts through valleys to creeks. This was wilderness for many miles, with rough gravel road washed out and ill defined in winding lush creek bottoms and sparsely vegetated peaks, where fires ravaged every decade or so, dense blackberry brambles or poke salad grew from ancient piles of bulldozed stumps. Red tailed hawks and turkey vultures floated on updrafts or watched from dead blackjack oaks; coyotes watched from toppled edge trees, and woodchucks or armadillos snuffled about. The quiet progress of his bike startled many animals used only to avoiding the easily discernible sound of an approaching motorized vehicle. Squirrels, birds, or deer regularly leapt into the brush upon notice of the quick and quiet bike.

After an hour or so of rough riding, Dick came to a comparatively major gravel intersection, eased into a campground, canoe outfitters bustled, swimmers leapt into whitewater from low water concrete ford. He tooled across the bridge, back again, envisioning many problems racers and tourists of many boats would have in portage. Midmorning sun bright, sparkling water inviting. A canoe quickly rented, actually they gave it for free, recognizing Dick as the racemaster, and hoping for some sort of favor. Strapping the bike in the front and borrowing a cooler from a friend, he cruised toward tomorrow’s finish line four miles away. Though quite familiar with the first leg of the tour, he was not totally familiar with this final four mile leg sixteen miles downstream from the spring. Quiet stretches were longer, falls higher and quicker, as opposed to continually rippling water of upper stretches. Spiders parasailed the surface, strange little catfish bullied darters and shiners on snail coated gravel bottom. Ducks bobbed up on turns, sputtering in surprise to dive again. Gangs of young crows traded insults with Dick.

         Dick mingled with other canoers, shouting to campers and fishermen, listening to input even as he flexed considerably negative opinion to drinkers with bottles; a rarely enforced rule against glass was cause of much drunken strife. Dick relaxed, floating in sun, not disturbing sunbathing soft shell turtles of so many sizes, or likewise the colorful pond sliders, and occasional alligator snapper. Shaded sides  steep, deep, boulders strewn about, lunker bass reading skylines. Sycamore pollen formed yellow scum at log jammed corners, solar houses twinkled atop bluffs.     Big party at Stoned falls watched hapless floaters tipping on the ten foot chute, another river joined here to multiply the volume of water. Old camps, private and public, exclusive and open, millionares argued on falls, bums moved easily through. The South Fork joined, warming and enlarging. Dick dipped his hand as he shot the chute. Many canoes capsized, helpless tourists floated about in drunken stupors. Arguments about private property plagued interaction at docks. Bottle drinkers were, Dick noted with serious alarm, abundant.

Fast food had sprung into the ancient narrow streeted Ozark town. Raucous construction workers bustled in high risk flood zone, building condos on stilt platforms in an offshoot of savings and loan scandals. Arts, crafts, and antiques bustled this week, peak was finish of the big tour tomorrow, Big highway bridge underpassed, finish line an ancient arching iron bridge at end of nearly a mile due west into summer sun. Yachts cruised the stretch; rich and famous partying in pontoons and patios. Here Dick left canoe and paddles to the tour staff, hammered out a few details with his finish line coordinator, and was wheeled once again, easing through carnival atmosphere.

A text got his girlfriend out on the curvy twenty mile highway from Mammoth to Forty Islands. He perused salad bars, local walleyed pike, channel catfish, Canadian goose and crayfish. He watched progression of traffic swamping the hick town. Advertising vans and jet boats streamed in, making a right to stay in Forty Islands as greeting crafts, not touring the length of the river like kayaks and whitewater sailboats turning left to traverse steep and curvy roads to the spring. Ultra light airplanes buzzed about, chains of horses pranced with wagons or riders. There was beautiful Merilee in camouflage jeep.

She took the restaurant by storm. Every head turned but that was because of the massive pileup at the intersection. Gas engines, thought Dick as he chewed salad. As she strutted and preened he chowed, thinking of sweet head he would give her at isolation drive on the way home. He cocked his head toward a fine waitress, and with a tip met his luscious girlfriend then they were in the parking lot. The lunch crowd was thinning.

    First stop on the return trip was cedar bluffs. This eastern side of the river more populated than isolated west banks. Trailer parks with lines of Lombardi poplars stretched miles, campgrounds sprinkled the length, freight trains rumbled through on the hour; albeit at slower speed on these busy days. At bluffs: rappellers, cavers, hangliders, parachutists, ultralight airplanes and balloons. At launch pad Dick examined crafts, expressing hope exhibitions went well. He laid ground rules, no interfering with water crafts, no reckless endangerment, etc, A young kid on a skateboard rolled through the parking lot at top speed and shot into air a thousand feet above the river. "Whose reckless?" he screamed with several twisting flips before pulling his chute.

        Meandering from place to place, Dick and Merilee checked campgrounds, confirmed aid Stations, riverside estates were to open gates for ambulances and tour support. One newish farm readied for a big wedding the next day_, one a spiritual revival, one a heavy metal contest.

     At tent service Dick and Merilee were scorned as doom bringers. This church saw the massive influx of people into traditionally sparse county as part of the apocalypse, Airplanes and balloons viewed as wraiths from hell, the tour itself as acelebration of debauchery. Dick noted high percentage of Cadillacs in the parking lot as the jeep began laborious climb back up multilayered forest slope. Dick vaguely recalled The group revered the jet. Crawling through bottom land known as Tequila swamp_: the jeep kicked pairs of mourning doves into flight and flushed coveys of quail from sage, wild turkeys watched from thorny Osage orange groves and red winged blackbirds flocked about cattails amid scattered cedar and persimmon, young sumac and goldenrod lay quite plain, preparing for bursts of fall colors far in the future. Dick knew Geezers neon green sensimillia plants would wave brightiy in months to come.

As Dick lay his lover on a fender, he noticed cottonmouth water moccasins of all sizes slithering among flood piles of Tequila Swamp, in clamor of tree frogs and crickets, dully roaring falls, and  melancholy call of Killdeer, Dick listened with horror to the death scream of a cottontail rabbit. Merilee in breathless rapture never saw the massive poisonous snake constrict and swallow struggling lotos.

Metal bands much more receptive opened up to Dick and Merilee, rapping and toking. A large group gathered around a Budweiser truck, sucking suds and body slamming in a beer soaked field. The only problem Dick had was a massive floating cabin of amplifiers swayed dangerous in water; revelers swung and jumped to various outriggers, speed divers worked underwater. Dick told them to be extra careful today, and beach the craft; which was powerfully equipped with many many batteries and motors, or enter her in the contest for lust. They loved the latter idea, and promised to show up with the exhibit by noon the following day.

Back at Dick’s house he and Merilee had super sloppy second helpings of sex. He toyed with an aerobie; a ring Dick could throw a quarter of a mile. Merilee was busying to attend dinner at an exclusive party house at rip roaring falls. Dick mulled actions to be taken tonight to ensure a smooth tour.

He decided that a leisurely bike tour was in order. The Amish were hanging out especially late tonight, almost nine. Hard drinking softballers  pissed about some misunderstanding with metal heads. The international trout fishermen pissed. The contest for last was already heated. Shots were fired at the convenience store across the road. Dick sighed; it was to be a long night.

Thoughtful among dark avenues, walls lined estates, massive red oaks reached high to stars; Dick pondered the party he was to attend later. His girlfriend evasive at times, emotionally noncommittal, but the sex was great, and she kept killer weed. A quick sprint brought him back through town and condo, where the St. Bernard ran with the aerobie, to the house, where lithe Merile showered.

"Are you drawn to me," he asked absently, shaving. She answered a little too quickly "yes. Definitely, I am very drawn, very, uh, drawn." Dick chuckled, then commanded sternly, "kneel my humble servant, and fellate me," She dropped to soapy knees on cool tile floor.

The party was lame, Dick on a natural amp. His buddies rapid skiing on spot lit falls flipped and spun crazy in play and challenge, A patio disco thumped and hued white shine of roaring rapids; paddles and cushions spun crazily in back current. Jacuzzi bathers toasted champagne above the river, Lobsters smothered in barbeque pit. Couples sashayed shadows, posers talked in light, stoners and tweakers fidgeted with appliances or furnishings in kitchen or bedrooms. As Dick sat quietly back corner, savoring an exotic joint, he noticed a mink, sleek and wet, walking gingerly along lapping waterline. With low hanging black walnut branches swaying easily in his face, Dick saw a fat white man floating in shallows, giggling drunkenly. As the man rolled several times to be grabbed by current above rocky rapids, Dick yelled and noted with alarm the identity of the man: Geezer.

"Oh my God Geezer! Get a life Jacket!" He yelled to the party, sprinting into the driveway and dashing through the volley ball game to a ledge above hooking falls, Dick never hesitated in a vault out to splat flatly and scramble after Geezer.

Volleyballers ran alongside, leaping a fence, pointing from tables. An inner tube thrown with a spin, someone mounted a kayak. Dick nabbed coughing Geezer and rolled carefully through bouncing rapids, washing up to perch gingerly as volleyballers pulled Geezer to the lawn.

Dick lay back and cleansed his soul, balanced to scour torso and head with super cascades of shining white water, changing perches, dipping low to piss numbly in ice cold torrent. He watched anxiously as healthy people treated giggling Geezer.

The keg rolled downsteam along banks. Disco people flooded out to witness real life nature danger, Dick yelled from amid rumbling water,. "O.K. O.K. " and, "what'da ya want for nuttin’." Geezer watched Dick in realizati.on, "Little Dicky saved me. He's as good as gold, that boy."

Dick was the hero. The group escorted Geezer into the hot tub, music heavy. Geezer began a story about Dick. "Me an' this ol ' boy here go a ways back. We was leavin' a bar a few miles north of here at the state line, an this was 1979 mind you. he don't look that old does he? Get a hair cut ya mug. Any how he took this armadillo, or was it a possum? But he hit this smart ass trucker in the grill." "Hey" said Dick over the P.A. "Let's moon your anus to Venus, the mercury is rising, earth mother for you space monkeys..."

"Let's go giggin’!” said Geezer. Dick danced sexily with some condom girls. Geezer smiled to all, big bud of Ozark Sinsimilia between gapped front teeth. Dick gestured to lead the way for the girls but they balked, and Geezer followed to the wharf,

A jet bass boat bobbed near the falls. Geezer brandished bow and arrow, then a long forked gig, "go find one of them condom things." Dick knew he meant the donut life preserver, and

A jet bass boat bobbed near the falls. Geezer brandished bow and arrow, then a long forked gig, "Go find one of them condom things." Dick knew he meant the donut life preserver, and relished the chance to entice the rubber girls into a high speed boat ride with drunken geezer.

The entire party watched as boat and passengers roared forward, laboring to fight pull of largish falls, suddenly shooting forward to plane out at high speed. One intense headlight stabbed straight forward, another swung crazy as Geezer held it high, spinning from a front fishing seat. The girls sat low in the back, clinging to each other, screaming, giggling in the splash of rapids as the boat skimmed bumpily between dry rock or brush, then swung into a deep bend.

Dick knew this area of river well, roared through the canyon with abandon; then, at Geezers direction, slowed to idle and creep into a Large backwater lagoon. Geezer was on both knees. huge shorts falling to reveal large white ass crack. He struggled with an electric trolley motor, "git one of the girls up on the rack." Dick led the bravest to a little deck above the prow_r where she shined the light about without obstruction.

"There!" shouted Geezer as a massive walleye ambled through the beam of light. Dick measured quickly and flung the gig sharply into the water, impaling the fish with one barbed fork in the belly. The girls retrieved the prize. Geezer was beside himself with excitement, holding the fish high in the light beam and whooping loudly in redneck fashion.

The night cool, Dick cuddled with giggly girls under space blankets. They smoked as Geezer guided the quiet boat into a long foggy backwater. Beaver tails splatted, Cottonmouth snakes moved aggressively. Mink and Raccoon caught big crayfish in mud, and a massive loggerhead turtle swirled away in newly muddied water.

"We gonna eat good this morning," declared Geezer, quickly filleting the fish and preparing clear flesh for fire. Woods closed in, overhead trees formed semi-dense archway of branches. Dick fingered a machete worriedly. The slough opened wide to a gravel beach. A young bobcat sprang away, splashing across shallows.

Camp set on a point, Geezer stumbled overboard to cook. The Girls shivered with Dick, who reluctantly rose to secure the boat, then trudged in deep gravel up slope and stood aloft facing deep woods to piss from semi engorged penis, arcing faintly sparkling stream into night. Dimly a glow rose from the wood line, then sounds as of industry and quietly ever so imperceptive, a steady hum; then slow, consistent, rhythmic pounding. Something large was amiss, he instantly deduced. Stoned, a little drunk, contemplating use of crystal Methamphetamines to help complete the long night and crazy day tomorrow, he figured fuck it, and turned to slide comicly down smooth gravel bar.

Gsezer watched strangley, setting prepared side dishes about quick fried walleye, babbling to attentive hungry condom girls: "A walleye is really a pike. Not to be confused with a goggle eye, which is a perch, or, a walleye and a goggle eye are two different fish now." He was cut short by the assertion from Dick, "what the fuck's goin' on in them thar hills? 1 know all that commotion is over yore way,"

Geezer hung his head, “Ya got me, Dicky. Girls. I'm filthy dog rich." Dick nodded, "I heard, but Jesus. Geez, sounds to me like you're mining awful close o the river." Geezer tended the cooking with a frown of uncertainty,- "surely not."

A gar darted slowly, a few large shiners moved in, and then. noted both Dick and Geezer with weirdness, a goldish color, in a snaking vein meandering among spawning nests of rook bass- Odd nuggets sifted slowly by, crawdads quarreled over pieces of spam.

A strange side dish eaten heartily by everyone began to take
on peaceful surreality. The pile of mushrooms consumed
heartily, Dick giggled with wide eyed girls while bats
flitted about.

Geezer was there with fully equipped bow. He made loud jokes, an air of superiority somewhere, no one could tell where. Islands separated lovers who screamed in competition, and smelled like fish.

Geezer pointed at flotsam, prodding jetsam with a rifle, standing on falls with spotlight in white glow of rapids like a moist uncomfortable clown.

     The meal went well, Geezer knew his picnics and one o£ the girls gigged a crazy channel catfish on the way back to the party. Again at high speed in the wind, again adrenalin coursed through pulsing veins, again blue herons lifted awkwardly barely in time.

A flourescent purple eagle attacked, landing in a fuscia gingko tree to glare with bright red eyes and green snaking tongue flicking to crackle with menace.

Dick awoke in his bed at dawn. Confused at first, he rolled to carpet crawling gingerly in awkward expectation of pain, through open sliding glass door to unfinished deck, then flipped into the brush, flowering dogwoods breaking a nasty fall. A fisherman towing many large trout made way toward the bank.

Often Dick mused that he was an English knight in like, Christ times, guarding England and the sanctity of Stonehenge for like the perfect Scottish race but even for dragons! Good God the dragons. "Now your gone, an 1 feel my heart is breaking and 1 can't hold on..." He sang for moments.

Genetic adrenalin began to pulse... Dick remembered back, before the birth of his son, through the death of his father, the arson that killed a brother in law, the cousin felled by a meteor. Examining the pile of purple mushrooms before him, Dick swallowed; here, indeed, was the acid test, to fucking be or not to be in a purely fucking social sense?

Once again the jungle breathed steam.  The wind died,  the train  gone. Still the river flows fucking on and on and on. Still, the falls scream forever on and on, never killing the end the weapon never kills though the weapon is kill.

Dick mused that he was now on the bus. Beetle larvae wiggled blankly near overturned hickory bark. Small salamanders and snails wriggled amid his trip. A grub worm moved dully, millipedes writhed, and weird roly polys scampered quickly. In water tiny midge larvae swarmed away from a funny tadpole.
    Dick giggled, then puked strongly, laughing as the froth swung from a cheek.

Soon he looked up and Geezer smiled with condom girls in tow, "thanks for lettin' us crash home_ boy, but we gotta fly." Dick smiled up to the girls from the forest floor, "go straight to the float ladies." They giggled tiredly,' "yes racemaster."

Geezer’s massive four wheel drive crawled toward the spring. Dick noted with pleasure the familiar jeep of his lover idling down the way. His penis began to rumble in expectation.then shrank as Dick flopped into the crystal clear water, reclining to meditate quickly before smiling to Merilee, she pointed in mirth at his nakedness, then held a big towel at the head of the steps, welcoming naked Dick with excitement and expectance. "Hurry," she whispered weakly, "today’s the day."

The motels and area quiet, the race two hours away. Dick tooled through on bike, punching a laptop computer to double check notes on preparation. Trunks slammed and trailers opened.

     Lines of shiny red plastic canoes waited for teams of racers to paddle firmly. At the race for last breakfast barbeques smoked, hungover campers wandered with trash bags. Blue Jays squawked, gray squirrels scampered, and a lone purple finch balanced lightly on a fiberglass pole sporting a Japanese flag.

Special security awaited at the town breakfast hall. Dick assigned each an area, reminding them to watch for glass bottles. Anyone found within one hundred feet of the river with a glass container was to be severely ticketed or banished. In the river with a glass container was punished with jail. Dick urged zealous enforcement of the no glass law, encouraging security officers to communicate for help with large rowdy crowds intent on carriage of beer bottles through treacherous rapids. Many would be well intentioned, with trash bags but all knew from experience that beer bottles had a way of losing themselves when things got sloppy, and when booze was involved, sloppy was a general rule.

Baby killdeers filed quickly across the purple phlox bordered path, A black snake paused trailing. Little green mulberrys lay strewn about. Dick spat.

At the drug store ice cold native root beers soothed Dick, the bubbly refreshing, he paused at a creek out back. Forest ferns dripped. Aquatic larvae darted vertically in ankle deep

water to flutter for cover,  and though Dick thought he had shaken the mushroom trip, he stared incredulously at tiny threads of gold winding among tiny shelves.  "Something," he massaged a frontal lobe, searching memory for a clue. "Geezer,. gold_; Geezer,gold ..."

Canoers chanted with impatience, entire scene becoming chaotic. Traffic stalled, honking, waved to the engineer of an idling freight train. Over at the race for last beauties waved with just their wrist already parading, video opportunities quite abundant.

Dick was flashing back to the dark secret tunnel where relentless power hammers assaulted the Ozark underearth with perpetual pounding. Disturbed, a little overwhelmed, and shrugging with surrender to matters of immediate attention, he looked one last time at the thread of gold winding through gravel_r poking and probing to choose slow snaking path.

Assistants were well placed, efficiently organizing or directing groups of boaters throughout the valley. Dick scanned the town with a telescope on an observation deck atop a cliff. He called various outfitters or campgrounds downstream, checking for readiness or Last minute problems. Dick was amazed at commitment and zeal instilled in legions the length of the river. Everything was firing on all cylinders, smoothness of operation thus far a dream. Dick began to relax only slightly, this day could go down as the greatest water festival ever, or, he grinned ruefully coasting his friend’s driveway, a freak disaster.

Dick oversaw the start of several race groups. Pro men would make the twenty miles in several hours, varying classes of canoes and kayaks would make varied times. Mens aluminum, inflatables, wornen’s fiberglass, kids plastic, group rubber rafts, paddle boards, each class competitive, starting clean to disappear around the first bend.

Exhibitionists paraded by, paddle and pedal boats, air driven, surf board contraptions, the condom girls in big raft, all given plenty of media coverage., all drifted or zigzaged toward uncertain trips. The race for last was heated, party barges inched forward, already partying hard trailing barbeque smoke into the wind, riders dancing to clashing stereos. Dick smiled.

He made way toward bluffs, where the many crafts would pass a public day camp. There, with hangliders and cell phoners  he felt the Earth quake.

The canyon where Geezer mined gold from a little shack covering the mine shaft erupted. A solid wa11 of water and trees tore down the canyon, changing the little tributary from a tepid thousand gallons an hour to twice that of the river. Tens of millions of galloons of water rapidly filled the flood plain as boats disappeared or capsized. Thousands of spectators screamed and reached for land, trees, boats, or drowned in churning brown and white water.

Dick and others watched in awe as the River swelled some forty feet in minutes. Some shrieked, two hangliders leapt free-As Dick watched the first torrent disappear around a far bend, his finger hit the quick dial for the checkpoint just downstream. Quickly and concisely, Dick explained that instant evacuation was necessary. Quickly each point contacted, Dick knew this freak flash flood would travel faster than any evacuation. Hoping to save some lives, Dick called the numbers programmed into his phone one by one. At each the predictable scenario followed as each guard allowed precious seconds for repeated descriptions.

Massive root wads of tumbling trees whorled wildly in rushing water. Boaters still able to navigate angled to high ground if possible. Many swimmers clung precariously to unstable trees. Still Dick called numbers numbly repeating the story of horror to any station that answered. He turned to the panicked watchers and instructed the group, “call 911," he pointed to a woman., "call the county, call the state, call the capital. You," he pointed to each person on the cliff that stood with a phone, "stay and be my point man, I'll call you back in ten minutes." Dick exchanged numbers with the man and took the bike down the steep hill dangerously fast.

Geezer stayed in a modest cabin up slope from his mine shaft. He also pulled the fabulous jet boat into an open garage further still up slope each night or morning when finished from one of his weekly romps. Water waist high as Dick dropped the bike and waded to Geezer’s window. The fat old man snored contentedly, water nearing the bottom of his bed, Dick shattered the window, Geezer stepped into the water quickly, amazed, staring at Dick and the flooded slope behind him. “Get your boat, we've got to save some people" As Geezer sloshed about, swimming and wading to the garage where boat and trailer floated banging against walls, he talked worriedly- "I didnt even know it rained last night, this is the worst flood in a thousand years." Dick coiled a rope, plucking several life jackets and a perfect circle condom life preserver from a jeep, ^“It's coming from your mine shaft."

"Oh Josephus Yahweh" Geezer fired the engine, tears flowing in sorrow" We've gotta save some people, get that extra gas." They idled across the field, the river had crested where ancient banks had housed otters and Caddo hunted buffalo. Across the field they shot nearly drowning swimming cattle in the wake. Fully a half mile down a backwater canyon, dry as a bone thirty minutes ago, through treetops. to the main channel and the power was awesome. This formerly clear mountain stream raged brown and white. Seven racers clinging to treetops collected were deposited on a knoll close by. Dicks contact on top of the cliff said a raft was overflowing with people just upstream, and that soon helicopters would be on the scene. How many people clung to the perfect circle condom could not be discerned. Geezer towed it to the knoll_r then towed the empty raft behind to deposit victims. One bikini condom girl clung to Dick in fear, but explained she was an emergency medical technician. Towing the raft along the tree line, Geezer watched for rushing debri such as the many gas tanks or Canoes, docks, cabins. and rafts of roots or trees roiling furiously from malicious depths. Occasionally a still corpse rolled through, but Dick, busy with partial survivors, chose not to chase the dead at this juncture. Also ignored were strong swimmers or buoyant victims in calm backwaters, they had good chances of making high ground, and all through the main channel people clung to the rapidly failing tree line. Again the boat and raft were full, again the passengers deposited on high ground, again boat and raft prowled the obstacle course searching for survivors. Then a tree rolled from the depths like a massive whale, snagging the big raft like so much inner tube, Dick and the girl barely got to the boat, cutting free with one swing of a machete.

Tossing life jackets, to some swimmers or clingers, quickly towing some to slackwater the trio scouted, planing out in the main channel, swerving to avoid debri. Ahead the Japanese paddle boat worked efficiently with outriggers to make capscision a near impossibility. The boat worked in much the same manner as the jet boat except to cross the main channel of current was apt to push the craft downstream many hundreds of yards.

Residential gas tanks bobbed by the hundreds. Boats, cabins, obstacles all swirled by. Soon, flying upsteam at sixty miles an hour the race for last was now an odyssey of survival The big pontoons and houseboats fringed backwaters. now flowing backwards to the spring almost as fast as the water erupting from the spring, causing a big spinning cycle of treachery, flip flopping trees, lifting condos from foundations, submerging both highways, trucks and railroad cars. Zigzagging from trouble spot to trouble spot, helping as many standed as possible, Geezer and Wink worked quick and efficient depositing victims on high ground, turning to search and rescue ceaseless How many victims they had already saved in just over forty minutes they could not remember. Other boats hitting the area nowpatrolled failing tree line or swirling lagoon, people waved from roofs or screamed from windows as water crept steadily up.

Dick stood high on the bow fishing rails pointing erratic directions or shouting conflicting instructions. After several near collisions with other boats also surprised by vicious back currents Geezer turned hard to race out of the area back downriver.

Joining the triple torrents a scant mile down, now the area peaked and rolled steadily. Eroding huge chunks of island or plain, the new river took more toll each minute. Cattle, debri, many camper trailers and many gas tanks(there was a tank lot in a low spot in town) lolled at high speed. Geezer, now with the current, could fly even faster, and still have time hopefully, to dodge debri.

Dick knew this speed would have them the twenty miles to the race finish line in a few minutes and quick glimpses of stranded survivors prompted Dick to direct Geezer into a huge field with close cliffs to either side. Incredible current scoured cliffs but tricky backwashes swirled the treeline, several survivors clung with not much time. One by one the trees were succumbing. As they plucked several people, one pointed around, "snakes."

 Currents eased, still swelling as if currents now reversed. Purposeful tide rolled smooth now fatter each moment.