The raft twists in a watery tornado. You press the paddle on the stowage bag to hold it secure.
The bag holds a first-aid kit and dry change of clothing. You might need both.
This is not quite a safari,
in not quite a canoe.
For a budget river journey,
my raft will have to do.
From origin to terminus,
I’d paddle fast and free.
So I thought—but then got caught,
too close to this eddy.
A vortex spins my river craft,
yet grips it fast in place.
To sink for lack of towing force,
to vanish without trace.
The pockets of your jacket hold a compass and a chart of Ruddy River. The raft, the compass, and your head are all spinning, but not in the same direction.
You glimpse an outcrop of rocks. Further downstream, the river bends into the mouth of a cave. Paddle with fury and try to out-muscle the vortex? Swim into the cave at the river bend? Swim to the rocks and climb?
Exhausted from a counter-padding contest with the current, the cave seems to be the closest refuge for rest. You leap off the raft—no frog ever ejected from a lily pad so awkwardly. You swim through the eddy, slip into the cave, and clamber onto mossy rock.
Gasping for breath, you glance into the cave. In the centre, a fire pit is framed by a loose circle of stones. The fire is down, but not out. There is a lump on a stick propped over the coals. A bearskin rug is beside the pit. Further back, the cave extends into shadow.
Eat the charred food in the fire-pit? Venture further into the cave? Wrap up in the bearskin beside the fire?
You rip off a limb of the charred whatever in the fire-pit. Protein provides energy and much was lost in the vortex. Besides, whatever it was, it tasted like chicken. Instinctively licking your fingers, you extend them to the fire pit.
Jog in place to warm up? Return to the raft for a change of clothes? Shift the front log with a stick?
Flame flickers between the stacked logs, offering a modicum of radiant heat. Your soaked clothes aren’t helping. You’ve gone prune-skin in places skin ought not to imitate a prune. Even so, taking off wet togs might not be the best way to encounter the cave’s natural inhabitant, should it come to that.
Removing the front log exposes a hot, glowing region. This increased radiation dries your clothing to a tolerable dampness. More fire, more light. The light reveals a stack of rocks like stairs at the back of the cavern.
There seems to be shifting shadows as well, perhaps a trick of flickering flames. If so, it might suffice to listen for footfalls before bringing out the welcome-home wagon.
Listen for footfalls? Move toward the shadows? Return to the raft now that you have more energy?
You sit still on rug-draped rock and probe the cavern with your ears, listening for an intruder. Actually, as you reflect, you are the intruder and slink into a dark corner.
Good timing too, for the shadows resolve into a body of some bulk. The cave dweller, and with dry clothes you note. Oblivious to you, he curls up beside the rekindled fire. Loud snoring ensues.
Rouse the cave dweller for help? Slip out to the raft? Tip-toe to the stair-step outcropping?
With the river blocked by a snoring bulk, you tip-toe to the stairs.
There is a tree hut on the other side of the river. Beat your chest and shout like Tarzan to frighten off the cave figure? Leap into the Ruddy River? Swing on the vine?
At the top of the stairs, you toss back a thatch mat and glimpse back to see the cave dweller in pursuit. He sleeps lighter than he looks. Hoisting yourself onto the embankment, you kick back the thatch mat. It lands on the cave’s resident startled face and hear muffled “oof oof oof” sounds.
On this side of the river there hangs a dangling vine hitched behind a branch. Eying the vine, cliché images of Tarzan come to mind. The cave figure staggers into view.
Clutching the vine, you take a running leap. It works. You find yourself on the other side of the river and hold back the vine rather than letting it swing back to the cave dweller.
The vine dangles down to the forest floor. Above, simian sounds stir from the tree canopy. It seems your presence has upset the chimps. They chuck coconuts and, urk, faeces.
Pretend to eat a banana to throw them off their game? Slide down the vine to the forest floor? Toss coconuts back?
The vine dangling to the ground offers rapid escape. You slide like a fire fighter down a station-house pole and land beside the river, near the eddy-entrapped raft. Some projectiles, vine and coconuts, precede your descent.
The screeches are louder. You have no interest in grappling with another excrement attack, but grappling of another sort might work. A hook to the raft, or take the offensive with a slingshot of coconut and vine. Nail one, the rest run.
In any case, the raft is closer here than from the cave. Closer for a shorter swim. Construct a coconut slingshot with the vine? Make a grappling hook of coconut and vine? Swim out to the raft?
Getting to the raft won’t help unless it is free of the vortex. You construct a hook of broken coconut tethered to vine. Like a cowpoke with a limber lasso, you swing it around and around, timing the rotations to drop the coconut into the raft.
Pulling the craft out of the eddy and to shore, you are soon bearing down-current. Past the figure slumped in the cave and far from the flinging of chimps. Escaping the eddy.