[at-l] Where's the Moose?

["Ern & Anneke Grover" <ern@ticktock.bizhosting.com>]

Where's the Moose?

My son, Andy, got a wonderful surprise for his birthday.  Melissa, his
girlfriend, presented him with reservations for white-water rafting with
Magic Falls Rafting of The Forks, Maine.  He was excited, of course, and the
day finally came for them to embark on their trip.

They stayed at her grandparent's farm in Winslow, Maine so they wouldn't
have to drive so much in the morning.  Andy and Melissa politely listened as
Grandpa talked about politics and football while the television blared in
the background.  Bedtime arrived at 9 o'clock.

It was a chilly night, even though he was tucked in the
"shorter-than-normal" bed.  As it was, he strategically positioned himself
diagonally in order to stay covered.  Grandpa's snoring echoed through the
hallways, and a neighbor's dog barked in the distance.  He could hear every
creek in the ancient farmhouse as it cooled down throughout the early
evening.

He got up with the rooster and helped to feed the cows, chickens and goats.
Granny prepared a farmer's breakfast, gave them a snack for the road and
sent them on their way through Skowhegan for the trip to The Forks.  Andy
wasn't ever one to be late for an appointment, and this trip wasn't any
exception.  The "Drop-Dead" time was 9 o'clock for the bus and equipment to
leave for the river.  Melissa and Andy arrived just before 8 o'clock, and
they were early enough to watch the other members of the party arrive.

A lady in a shiny red BMW was last to pull into a parking space.  Her car
was adorned with mud spatters from the trip down the puddle-ridden access
road to the rafting lodge.  She managed to park cock-eyed in the parking
space.  When she opened her door, it swung wide and bounced off the vinyl
safety strip on the neighboring vehicle.

First one long leg, and then another, slipped out to reveal the lone
occupant of the sporty vehicle.  When she turned to face her stunned guests,
the wind caught her neatly piled hair.  She reached for her dangling
earrings that were now caught in her hair.  Andy and Melissa weren't sure if
it was mascara or war paint on her face, but they overheard some off-color
remarks from a couple of teenagers in the group.  Andy resisted the
temptation to point at her, so he chuckled under his breath.  She looked
"out-of-place" here at The Forks, away from her New York environment.  The
"Redhead" certainly wasn't dressed for rafting.

She went directly through the front door of the building, apparently in
search for the office.  Soon her voice screeched at someone, and her wail
was heard through the half-opened windows on the side of the building.  "I
want to talk to whoever's in charge!"

"Lady, you are talking to the person in charge.  What can I do to help you?"
His Maine accent was dominant in the conversation.  "We're just about ready
to board the bus, so I don't have much time."

"I'm late because of that stupid blinking yellow light on the way into this
"one horse" town you call The Forks.  I don't appreciate it one bit.  Let me
use your telephone.  I want to talk to the mayor."

"Er, what's the problem?  Was there an accident?  Did someone hit you?"  He
must have had a difficult time maintaining a serious expression on his face
being confronted with a fiery, war-painted raging woman.

"I sat at that light for twenty-five minutes.  Not once did I see the moose
crossing the road!"

"Mayor?  In a town of 30?"

Well, there was laughing all through the group of waiting rafters.  Then the
manager laughed.  I guess she didn't like his other comments.  She stormed
out, got her duffel bag from the trunk of her car and ran back into the
building to change.  All eyes in the group gazed at this "wild woman" as she
flew past them.  There was silence for a minute or two.  She emerged from
the changing room dressed in colorful Spandex shorts and loosely fitting
tank top.  Her red hair was still piled high atop her head and clamped by a
decorative spring barrette.  Her mascara had smudged a little during her
transformation in the changing room.  She paced about for a moment and
finally took a seat at the edge of those assembled.  Eventually she calmed
down and started to talk with a lady sitting next to her.

Everyone boarded the bus and headed to the dam.  On the way, the manager and
several raft leaders barked instructions and information over the deafening
roar of the engine and drive train of the old school bus.  Each had to hold
on to the safety straps as the bus swayed back and forth on the bumpy road.
Andy secretly hoped he wouldn't get the "Redhead" from New York in his raft.
Dust from the dirt road churned behind the bus down the long access road to
the visitor's area at the dam.  Soon they arrived at the parking area
assigned for tour groups.  Brown-painted picnic tables spattered by bird
droppings, portable toilet units, a simple drinking fountain mounted on the
rear of an army surplus water trailer, and a colorful army of inflatable
rafts from various rafting companies greeted them as they made their egress.

The group from Magic Falls Rafting moved together down to the water's edge.
Each of them signed a liability release form and gathered to receive final
instructions on safety, paddling techniques, and what to expect throughout
the day.  The manager divided the group of 30 participants into teams of six
and eight according to size and experience.  He chose the "Redhead" to be in
their raft.  Drat!

Each rafting leader assembled his team.  In unison, they slid the raft down
the bank and into the raging waters.  The release rate was a mere 4,600
cubic feet per second, but it was enough to offer them a wild day in the
churning currents of the Kennebec River.

They fought the currents with wild movements of their paddles.  The tiny
raft twisted in one direction, then another, only to be hit by wave after
breaking wave.  Soon the raft was lined up to enter "Magic", a
"one-of-a-kind" area on the river.  The raft ahead of them bobbed once, then
twice, and then it disappeared from the surface of the water.  In a sudden
lurch it emerged from the depths, and the captive raft was propelled through
the air and skimmed the water surface for several feet.  The shoreline
echoed a chorus of screams as the raft members caught their stomachs in
mid-flight.

Next it was their turn to enter "Magic".  Andy and Melissa grabbed the
safety line and tightened their hold on the inflatable seats of their craft.
The raft twisted slightly then took a soft dip, then another, but deeper
dip, and on the third dip the entire raft and team dropped into a hole of
perhaps four or five feet.  "Magic" swallowed the raft!  No sooner had they
hit bottom, then they were pushed up the side of the gush of waters.  They
were literally thrown clear of the water and settled on the downstream side
of "Magic".  Each was screaming at the top of his lungs.  The "Redhead" was
a mess.  Her hair had toppled and fell around her mascara-smeared face and
her stretched tank top bare clung to her body.  Her companions burst out
laughing, and the city girl from the Big Apple soon joined in the fun.

The trip was over too soon, but the five-hour trip will long be remembered
as the one with the "Redhead" in the red BMW and stretched-out tank top
asking, "Where's the moose?"

Ern Grover "Sweeter-Rain"
Madison Caldwell © 1999




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