To Be or Not to Be the Hydronaught?

Hydronaught, original painting

THE WHIRLPOOL

Parks Reece Storytelling Project

Hosted by the Elk River Arts and Lectures’ Fork in the River, Storytelling Night

Livingston, Montana is a small fly fishing town. However, despite its small size, our town has a thriving art and nonprofit community, whether it be for visual or oral story telling. Elk River Arts and Lectures is one of our local nonprofits, and the group asked if Parks Reece would like to share any of his tall tales at a storytelling night all about a fork in the road, or rather a fork in the river. As everyone knows, Parks loves to share and tell stories. He, of course, said yes. You can find his story transcribed below.

“There is a story I remember hearing occasionally – when I was three years old, we were visiting my grandparent’s house when I disappeared and panicked the entire family. I don’t remember any of it. During their desperate search a stranger showed up with me. He had found me standing at the edge of a lake, looking like I was about to dive in. He snatched me up and delivered me to my family about a mile and a half away. That seems to have set the tone for how I would live the rest of my life.

I grew up fairly isolated in the Blue Ridge region of the Appalachian Mountains. Being an only child and with very few neighbors I wandered around the wild mountainous woods, almost daily. I loved exploring and I loved climbing trees. One of my favorite things was to climb a big tree and jump off of it on to the top of a sapling, riding it down. This was a thrill ride. Although sometimes the saplings would break, and I’d have to lay there until I caught my breath.

I learned where there was a waterfall deep in the mountains called “Slick Rock.” The water was only two to five inches deep cascading down the smooth rock of the falls. You could slide down about fifty yards to a pool at the bottom at amazing speeds. If you didn’t go exactly the right route you might end up in a cast or needing stitches.

During my teenage years I was called on to guide other kids, and sometimes adults there, and I would show them the right route to slide safely down the waterfall. It was hair raising and at least a third of my companions chickened out. I especially loved taking girls there because you absolutely had to be naked for the slide to work – bare skin on slick mossy rock – wearing clothes wouldn’t work. I explained that very carefully to the ladies.

Following a sweetheart, I moved to Montana in the late seventies, and I became passionate about being on the river in tubes, rafts, and later in drift boats. I was a good swimmer, and I loved swimming it as well. Often, I dove out of my raft with my dog, Ott – Tim Cahill claimed he was named after the New York City pronunciation of ART, Ott. We would swim beside the boat and to the bank and run for miles – usually swimming back to the boat for a visit then taking off again. I had fun with passengers in the boat I’d ask, “would you like to learn to oar?” If they said yes, I’d say “grab the oars,” as I dove in. Sometimes to their shock and horror. They were usually fast learners, though.

One day I was taking my new brother and Sister-in Law on one of my favorite rides, Pine Creek to Carter’s bridge, about eight miles. There was a very large whirlpool along the way that we always took great pains to dodge. I was always fascinated by that power of nature and during my many floats by it, I often wondered what it would be like to ride a whirlpool. We were having a lark, and I figured they wouldn’t mind a little detour – so I decided today was the day. I oared the raft up well above the about 60-foot-wide whirlpool, put on my life jacket – which I usually never wore – and apprised them I was about to embark on one of nature’s carnival rides. They were perplexed as I jumped in and began floating towards the circling water. Strangely, I just felt like it would be a fun little ride and didn’t feel any fear. In retrospect, I’m not sure how natural selection didn’t eliminate me from the gene pool right then.

As I got into the grip of the outside edge, probably 30 feet from the actual funnel, I started spinning slowly around. On about the second revolution I realized how powerfully strong this current was. It was then that I began to wonder if I really wanted to do this. But there was absolutely no getting out of it. I could hear the splashing and low roar getting louder as I got nearer to this water tornado in the river. I cinched my life jacket tight as I became very aware of the steep slant drawing me down into the center of the whirlpool.

Instinctively I began repetitive deep breathing. I had no previous knowledge of doing that but somehow it seemed like the right thing to do under the circumstances. I timed it so just as it took me down,  I got one really good deep last breath.

It jerked me under with a power I have never experienced. It spun me around, upside down, summersaulted, and I actually feared that it might rip one of my arms off, so I tried to tuck them in tight – which didn’t work, because it was flinging me around like a rag doll. Immediately my life jacket was ripped off violently – leaving burns along my chest, neck, and chin. I was told that it shot into the air 10 feet giving my captive audience a sick feeling about my safety and chances of survival.

Because I had had experience swimming currents and riptides in rivers and oceans I knew to relax and get control of the panic that was welling up in me. Usually, the currents would quickly release me. Go with the flow, don’t fight it – a pretty good parable for life.

I was a little concerned I would get slammed into a rock, knocked out, and drown so I tried to cover my head with my hands, but the current would not allow that – keeping me in flailing in rag doll mode.

It did cross my mind, briefly, that I was supposed to be enjoying this thrill ride – but I couldn’t quite get there.

Eventually the current subsided and I found myself floating in the deep water. Not on the bottom but also not near the surface. I’d always looked with some derision at people who claimed they got disoriented in water and didn’t know which way was up. I was confident that I’d always know. I was disabused of that notion as clearly, I didn’t have a clue which way was up. No bottom to kick off of, I couldn’t really see an obvious sky light above to know which way to head and still was being batted about by the current of the whirlpool – I was in limbo and running out of air. I thought about blowing a bubble, hoping I could follow it up to the surface but realized I was surrounded by a cacophony of swirling bubbles, debris, and dirt. I also was afraid to lose even one precious bit of air. In a split second, which seemed like long enough read War and Peace, I gambled on what seemed to be the lightest spot around me and swam towards it.

At that point I really wanted to take a breath but being under water as I was, I relaxed myself even more and tried to quell the desperate sense of need. I kept swimming and it occurred to me, damn, I’m going to have to take a breath of water. With all of my might I resisted for a few seconds more and hallelujah my head popped above the surface!

There was my brand-new brother and sister-in-law with mouths agape, eyes wide open and a look of horror on their faces. But, brother-in-law, John, told me later he thought to himself “Wow, I going to have some fun with this guy!”

There is a cliché that says what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger – there is something to that. And even though I’ve been told it was a very stupid thing to do, and I don’t disagree, it DID come close to killing me. It was estimated I was down for around 50 seconds, longer than I had ever held my breath before. I didn’t think of it as an act of bravado or showing off it was simply “wow I wonder what it would be like to jump into a whirlpool.” I was so casually sure of myself that I didn’t fully think about the danger, but, for what it’s worth I now have an intimate knowledge of what it is like to ride a whirlpool.

I still remember that first breath of air I gasped in. It was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I was ebullient. And ever since then the world and its wonders are sweeter and I appreciate life in general even more. And since I’m alive, I’d have to say it was a kind of fun.