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Show RIVER God, it was cold in the boat. The cold of the river passed directly through the boat's thin aluminum skin, chilling the water that had soaked us through. Spinning down the river through the deep dark, we could see nothing at all, not even each other. The cold finally roused me out of my stupor and I dug through our gear until I found three wooden matches that appeared to be dry. We landed on the west bank, shapeless and black in the wet dark, and I climbed ashore and dug around till I found kindling that looked dry enough to catch a spark. Then I built a fire: I've built a lot of fires in my time, but I've never done it with such care and patience. I wanted to see a fire-warmth and light! Finished, I pulled out the matches and one by one I dragged them across a striker: they melted as wet matches will. It made us heartsick, but all we could do was get back in the boat and row. It seemed to stay dark and cold for hours. We waited through the false dawn till at last the first true light began to appear. We ceased moaning and slowly started to laugh, quietly at first, swelling till we were hysterical and howling with joy and craziness. We hugged each other's soggy bodies and I kissed Rosie's blue eyes. Feeling so bad had never left me feeling so good. Even now, when I think about Rosie, I remember that cold, mad dawn, the light rising up on the Cumberland and Rosie wet and real in my arms. The storm broke with the rising sun and we spent the last miles drifting down to Carthage drinking in sunlight as sweet as ever shone on Tennessee. Richard and Ann met us at the bridge in Carthage. They had rented a farm in Madison County, North Carolina, and had bought an old red Falcon station wagon. We said goodbye and loaded our skiff back on top of the Econoline and hit the road again. We drove across the Smokey Mountains, up the Blue Ridge to -112- |