SUBTITLE: Not all that begins well, ends well.
River Trip: Saturday, December 15
It was nearly two months ago when John Mark and I decided to tempt fate and match our might against the Mighty Mahe River. When pondering the trip today I concluded that time, not necessity, is the mother of invention. And so, I will retell this story with great restraint as I withhold my flair for the dramatic and present the tale as it occurred, or as best as my embellished memory can conjure up.
I had run the rapids just below “Sawmill Bridge” on Thursday and I knew it was time to go beyond the bend in the river and venture deep into the unknown. The urge to explore is found within the core of every human being, or perhaps only in some human beings with residual, unresolved childhood notions. I know that there are only a few destinations left undiscovered by humans, but that is of little importance to me. I find it necessary to go exploring, going beyond the mountain’s ridge, the river’s bend, or the trails meander. And so on that sunny Saturday in December we decided to go to places our eyes had never had the joy of witnessing: the mysterious waters of the Mahe River.
We set in at Sawmill Bridge with gusto. It took me 45 minutes to convince John Mark that even though I had fallen out on these rapids on the last river run, the river was safe. He nervously agreed to my sales pitch, when I exuberantly exclaimed: “This River is perfectly safe. It’s not like you can die on this river!” We set in and pushed off, paddling hard to hit the first rapid head on. We did exactly that, but things went a little awry when our boat decided to go backwards down the river. Even though we felt like true adventurers, we knew innately that the river was in control. Fortunately, we manoeuvred in a more comfortable direction (in other words the current turned our boat around) and we hit the last wave with a shout of relief and satisfaction.
John Mark was so satisfied with his maiden voyage that he quickly volunteered to a second run. The second attempt was carried out with textbook style and we ate a granola bar to celebrate the sense of victory. We pushed off from Sawmill Bridge at 12:51pm. [This is a key fact in this story. John Mark has printed off a map a few weeks before and we estimated the journey to take 5-6 hours (an approximate length of 30kms). With this time estimate we expected to reach the pick-up spot at around 6 -7pm. We were excited and eager as we paddled around the first bend.]
The wildlife that lived in and around the river ecosystem did not disappoint us. We spotted iridescent bee eaters, hornbills, ibises and large-bodied fruit bats, which swooped above the tree line in increasing numbers near dusk. The greatest encounter with wildlife happened close to the end of fifth hour on the journey. We had stopped on an island to quickly check out the next set of rapids. As we were getting back into the boat John Mark pointed at an 8inch long African Pike (Liberian Dog Fish) lying in the back of the boat. He wondered if we should toss it back into the water. I was proud of my catch. For me, it is not about the style in which the fish was caught, but in the fact that I had caught a fish (a very proud moment. It reminded me of the time I had caught a trout with a ski pole and 4 feet of fishing line in a creek behind hanging lake).
Around one of the bends in the river we met an unexpected site. There was a long “monkey bridge,” a type of bridge in Liberia that is made entirely of local materials (bamboo, stick, and country rope). Even though it was approaching 6pm we had to stop and explore this (almost) natural wonder. It was created with great care and gusto – who would have thought to have a bridge that spanned 100ft and used (almost*) exclusively local materials. We were testing the strength of the bridge by walking across the length when an old pappe (pronounced pap-eh) strode across toting a load of cassava stalks on his head. I asked him if he thought I would jump off the bridge to the waters below. He said, “What?! You can’t make it!” I smiled and jumped over the side. As I resurfaced I kindly asked the pappe to drop his load and come for a swim. He shook his head and quickly sauntered off.
*(there was one short length of wire to give partial support to the middle of the bridge)
To dwell solely on the wildlife and the encounter with the locals would paint the river in a beautiful light, but it would be a painting void of movement and the acrid taste of adrenaline. The stretches of calm water could only preclude one thing: there were rapids, holes (good spots to drown in) and rocks to manoeuvre through, over and around. There were moments when we ran the river in near flawless style and had a great time cutting some tight lines through the river that was the size of a creek in some spots. Then there were those other moments, when plans did not totally enter into the realm of reality.
It is those moments I wish to now focus on. Keep in mind, however, that as darkness set over the river the need to use “dramatic flair” in my writing is no longer necessary.
To be continued…
I had run the rapids just below “
The wildlife that lived in and around the river ecosystem did not disappoint us. We spotted iridescent bee eaters, hornbills, ibises and large-bodied fruit bats, which swooped above the tree line in increasing numbers near dusk. The greatest encounter with wildlife happened close to the end of fifth hour on the journey. We had stopped on an island to quickly check out the next set of rapids. As we were getting back into the boat John Mark pointed at an 8inch long African Pike (Liberian Dog Fish) lying in the back of the boat. He wondered if we should toss it back into the water. I was proud of my catch. For me, it is not about the style in which the fish was caught, but in the fact that I had caught a fish (a very proud moment. It reminded me of the time I had caught a trout with a ski pole and 4 feet of fishing line in a creek behind hanging lake). 
Around one of the bends in the river we met an unexpected site. There was a long “monkey bridge,” a type of bridge in 
To dwell solely on the wildlife and the encounter with the locals would paint the river in a beautiful light, but it would be a painting void of movement and the acrid taste of adrenaline. The stretches of calm water could only preclude one thing: there were rapids, holes (good spots to drown in) and rocks to manoeuvre through, over and around. There were moments when we ran the river in near flawless style and had a great time cutting some tight lines through the river that was the size of a creek in some spots. Then there were those other moments, when plans did not totally enter into the realm of reality. 
Comments
Why did i jump? Well, here is the inside story...I had climbed up onto the "monkey" bridge and was just exploring it. I was about to jump off for fun whent he pappe comes down the trail. After an exchange of pleasantries I went back to my original plan. The cassava man was still interested in these two white men way off the beaten track and he was hanging around.
If you wanted to sum up that story in one sentence it would state something like: I enjoy putting a little surreal into the normalcy of someone's life.
Bro - when's the wedding?