Four days prior to the raft race, the rain began, and it continued to pour for three days after that. The eleven inches of rain that fell on Lumby that week had several effects. First, it was excuse enough for The Lumby Lines to print a special edition.
The Lumby Lines
Special Edition
Come Hell or High Water
BY CARRIE KERRY August 20
The torrential rains that have stayed with us for the last four days have left Lumby waterlogged, but the weather report shows all likelihood of the storm clearing out this evening.
Sam Friedman, Lumby’s Park Manager, reported that at least one hundred wood ducks have invaded the newly formed lake at the Fairgrounds, and are wreaking havoc for the chickens that have taken up residence there. Additionally, he said that Porta Potti #2 has floated away, and the roof on Porta Potti #5 has collapsed.
The Lumby Landfill is also suffering adverse effects from the rain, with a major landslide occurring last night on the north hill. The police have asked all residents to stop using it as a toboggan run, as the sleds are deepening the trenches.
Several residents are blaming the rains on the government cloud-seeding program. “This just isn’t normal, and Ruth Ann saw a couple of airplanes up there, and they looked like they were dropping something out the windows,” said an unidentified patron at Jimmy D’s.
Whether the weather is from Mother Nature or the CIA, we should start drying out tomorrow, just in time for the Fork River Festival. See you all there!
The downpour brought about several other changes. The second harvest of the Montis orchard had to be moved back eight days, the drywall for the inn’s main building couldn’t be delivered, honey collection for the monks was postponed until Chuck Bryson felt the bees were dry, and the Fork River rose to flood levels, running higher and faster than most folks in Lumby could ever remember. But by the morning of the festival, the rafts were complete, Hank and his float had disappeared, and the sun finally broke through and promised a stunningly beautiful day.
With the mud, Cutter and Clipper (who insisted on helping) and the broken trailer axle, the loading of the raft at Montis Inn precariously teetered between hilarious and disastrous. Mark had to call four of the workers to hoist the raft onto the trailer, which immediately collapsed. One of the workers offered his flatbed, and within an hour the raft was questionably secured and traveling down Farm to Market Road.
Getting to Kelly’s Bend on the Fork River proved to be more treacherous. The rain had converted the dirt access road into a mud channel, making it impassable for either truck or trailer. So the River Master, Sal Gentile, who was also the proprietor of Lumby Liquors, decided to put the backs of the good men of Lumby to work, and had the volunteers create two lines, shoulder to shoulder, the length of the access road. For nearly an hour, each float was passed down the line, man to man, float after float, until all twenty-nine entries were resting by the swollen banks of the Fork River for the dry-land competition.
Although Joshua repeatedly looked around for Dennis, it wasn’t until the rafts were at the river’s edge that he saw his friend standing next to a very formidable-looking craft.
“Quite impressive,” Joshua said, slapping Dennis on the back.
“There she be—The Neptune,” Dennis said proudly, raising his arm. He was wearing an elaborate Viking costume. Brian and Terry, in jeans and pretending not to know him, were sitting on the deck with headphones on. Gabrielle, who looked very much like a Viking’s wife, and Mackenzie were talking with friends some distance away.
“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Joshua said.
Dennis clasped him by the arm. “Be safe out there. I’ve never seen the river this high or this fast.”
“Nor I.”
“Accepted,” Sal yelled out, after walking around and surveying the first raft.
Joshua tried to peek through the crowd to see which raft Sal was inspecting. “I need to get back. We’re about to be judged.”
“See you after the race. I’ll be waiting for you on the lake,” Dennis laughed.
Ten minutes later, “Accepted, but will be disqualified if you don’t put duct tape on the exposed metal before the start of the race.” Sal continued to go down the line of rafts, only disqualifying one two-man entry for illegal use of materials.
Sal walked up to Mark and Joshua’s raft, introduced himself, and began the inspection. Walking twice around the boat, if one could call it that, all he said was, “Disqualified,” and began to move on to the next entry.
“Disqualified?” Mark asked.
“Disqualified,” Sal repeated.
“Why?” Mark asked, louder than he intended.
“No name,” Sal answered.
“No name?” Mark asked.
“No name,” Sal repeated, on the edge of annoyance.
“But there is no regulation about a name,” Joshua contended.
“Was last year,” Sal said, with his back now turned.
In no more than six seconds, Mark pulled a Magic Marker from Joshua’s shirt pocket, accidentally ripping the fabric, and wrote something on the PVC deck frame on the right side of the raft.
“Perhaps you overlooked it—it’s on the deck piping,” Mark said, catching up to Sal, who had begun inspecting the next raft.
“Where?” he asked.
“On the starboard frame,” Mark said.
“Raft name?”
“Lazy Bones II.”
“Accepted,” Sal acknowledged, and updated his list.
Although their raft participated in two of the dry-land competitions, to no one’s surprise, Lazy Bones II lost by a very wide margin. The rafts that won were amazing works of creative genius. The American Heritage Award went to a monstrous float that had a six-foot-tall replica of the Statue of Liberty on the deck, which also served as the sail mast. The Committee’s Choice Award, with Sal being “the committee,” was given to the raft entered by Jimmy D’s, Sal’s highest-volume customer and the sponsor for this year’s barbecue lunch. No surprise and no argument after everyone tasted the ribs and chicken wings, even if the wings had come from the fairground poultry fiasco.
In prior years many wore costumes during the dry-land competition, but this year everything was too muddy. After lunch, people started to disappear into the woods and reemerged a few minutes later in full attire. So, too, did Mark and Joshua. Mark changed into an ancient tuxedo Pam had found at the Nearly New shop, while Joshua opted for the formal castaway look: no shirt, shredded shorts, sneakers and a blue necktie.
Pam and Brooke, who had stayed at Montis Inn during the dry-land competition to prepare the coffee and dessert that would be served that evening, arrived in full dress well before their scheduled launch. Brooke wore work boots, a white-sheet toga and a ratty belt made out of heavy rope that appeared to have been borrowed from the stonemason. Pam opted for a denim skirt and a cotton top. All four of their costumes were on the boringly conservative side compared to some of those who were preparing to float the river.
The first floats in the river were the one-man rafts, which included five entries. All were not much larger than minimum size, three feet by four feet, with two being little more than a board placed on a heavy rubber inner tube. When the mariners began to push their rafts off the shore and into the water, the trouble began. The river’s current was so strong and so swift that the first raft was literally swept away with the owner still on the shore. Sal Gentile, who was overseeing the start of the race, radioed down to his assistant, presumably at the mouth of Woodrow Lake, telling him that the first raft was “unmanned and moving at quite the clip.”
The other four entrants, not wanting to repeat the trial and error of the first, recruited volunteers to tether the raft until the gun.
Bang! And they were off, gaining tremendous speed just ten yards offshore. The second raft, not using the inner tube technology, but instead opting for lighter-weight, less expensive Styrofoam, broke apart within the first minute. A rescue line was thrown to the captain at the first bend, pulling him from the turbulent current.
Within two minutes the rafts were well out of sight and Sal, through his twenty-year-old megaphone, advised the two-man skippers to prepare their crafts. One by one, the seven rafts, larger and appearing more structurally sound than the one-man, were hoisted into the river. Before the starting gun sounded, one raft took on so much water on top that the additional weight caused its flotation to crack and, to the dismay of the owner, the raft sank three feet down, three feet offshore. Another raft, the last in line, literally flipped end over end when hit by a wave surge, and landed on the raft next to it, causing no damage to the flippee, but considerable havoc to the flipper. At this point in the race, more debris than intact rafts was being ferried down toward Woodrow Lake.
Bang! The lines were dropped, and the furious paddling began. Once the rafts were caught in the river’s current, however, the riders immediately realized that no amount of paddling could increase their speed. The objective changed from propelling the boats to stabilizing them, or just hanging on for dear life. By the first bend, five boats were still floating, although one had lost a crew member, resulting in immediate disqualification.
Sal had arranged the seventeen as-many-as-you-can-get-on rafts for a staggered start, with three heats of six, six and five rafts.
Lazy Bones II was in the first group, and well positioned, being farthest downstream and well away from the next boat entering the water. Several people helped Mark and Joshua slide the raft into the water. Mark was almost swept under the raft when he took one step too many away from the shore while trying to swing the front end of the boat into position. With some effort, and the help of eight other people to hold the raft, Pam, Brooke, Joshua and Mark boarded. Immediately the river’s bucking dropped them to their knees.
Joshua turned around. Four boats upriver was The Neptune, with Dennis well balanced on its deck. Although the raft lay low in the water due to its weight, it looked to be far better balanced than many of the others, which, although tethered, were being violently tossed by the current.
“I had no idea it was going to be this rough,” Pam said, a little shaken.
“It should get smoother once we get on the river,” Mark said.
“We’re already on the river,” Brooke protested slightly.
“We’ll be fine,” Joshua assured her, putting his arm through hers.
The wait seemed endless, but then, Bang! and the volunteers threw the lines onto the raft. For a few seconds the raft didn’t move. Mark, thinking that the added weight of all four crew members had dug the raft into the sand, stood up and was about to step off when the raft suddenly surged forward. Had Pam not grabbed his arm, Mark would have been left behind, disqualifying Lazy Bones II. As their raft shot off, Joshua saw Dennis wave at him as The Neptune rushed past. Joshua noticed that both boys were sitting safely on the deck, and thought he saw Terry McGuire tighten his life vest and start to wrap the rope around his waist, but Lazy Bones II lurched forward again.
The acceleration of the raft was so startling that Mark told Pam and Brooke, “Lie flat on the deck!” He and Joshua attempted to control the raft by using a small rudder and two long oars. The rudder broke two hundred yards into the race. Passing the first bend was a blur, with Mark thinking gloomily that they still had four miles to go before the calm of Woodrow Lake. They were quickly coming up on The Neptune, which appeared to be slowed by its bulky weight.
Joshua, turning to see where the other rafts were, saw two approaching from the left side. “Watch out!” Mark and Joshua looked at each other with an unspoken understanding that winning took a distant second to finishing the race intact and with the four of them uninjured.
As they rounded the bend, though, the river broadened and the current slowed, making the ride more manageable. Pam and Brooke sat up and, taking their own oars, began to help with the raft’s navigation. The new tactic, Mark yelled to be heard over the rush of the water, was to stay out of everyone’s way.
Two rafts on their left appeared to be keeping clear. Mark and Joshua tried to steer to the right side of the river, but were swept into deeper waters by the strong current. The raft closest to Lazy Bones II was the Heritage Award winner, which had already lost the top of the Statue of Liberty and was heading directly for some trees that extended well over the water. There were no fewer than eight crew members, all dressed in Civil War uniforms, on the deck trying to control the unwieldy raft.
Dennis, steering The Neptune, was in a dead heat with Lazy Bones II, keeping a steady speed in the center of the river. Brian was managing the rudder, and Terry was still seated on the deck. Slightly in front of them, but closer to the far bank, was a log raft with four Robinson Crusoe–looking mates on board; three of the men Mark recognized from the construction site.
The rafts began to pick up speed as the river narrowed between high, straight banks on each side. Going through the gulch seemed almost suicidal. Joshua had told Mark that this was the worst part of the course, tricky even when the water was at its normal level.
Lazy Bones II was the first raft through the gulch, careening radically but staying level enough not to flip. Within fifteen seconds it was followed by the Crusoe log raft, which looked to have tremendous drag underneath and was torquing in all directions. The logs were beginning to pull away from each other and rope was snapping like thread. The Neptune was close on their heels, but still a safe distance behind. Unfortunately, within seconds, the log raft broke apart, sending the crew into the water. Two of its logs crashed into the front of The Neptune with such force that Dennis and Brian were also thrown into the river, with wood and logs shattering around them.
Joshua frantically searched for Dennis among the raft pieces, now free of body weight and moving much faster. He saw Dennis’s head bob up as well as Brian’s. Also in the water were the Crusoe crew members, twisting as the life vests kept their heads above water. All were accounted for…all but one.
Joshua looked around for Terry McGuire. The Neptune had shattered into two main sections, and Terry was on neither. Joshua panicked when he saw an empty life vest float past Lazy Bones II. He looked back at the largest piece remaining of his friend’s raft and then scanned the water, thinking that Terry might be holding on for dear life. That’s when he spotted the boy being dragged fifteen feet behind the raft by a rope he had tied around his waist.
Lazy Bones II had caught a slightly slower current next to the bank, so within seconds, the drowning boy, whom the others did not see, was parallel to them in the river. Joshua, reacting without thinking, dove in. Brooke yelled out, thinking that Joshua had fallen overboard, but then she saw that he was frantically trying to swim to a large piece of raft that was rushing past them. Mark spotted an arm jerk up from behind the broken raft, and suddenly realized what Joshua was doing. Mark yelled at Pam to try to get the raft to shore, and dove in after Joshua.
Pam and Brooke watched helplessly while trying to land the raft. Neither Dennis nor Brian Beezer witnessed any of this, as they were already far ahead, their bodies being tossed by the fierce current.
Joshua finally made it to Terry’s side and lifted the boy’s head above water. Yet he couldn’t untie the rope, which had swollen with water and was taut from the force of the drag. Joshua, relying on his life vest, rolled on his back, and held on to the same rope that was tied to the boy. He stretched his legs out in front of him to fend off the shattered raft that was pulling them downstream and then tried to buoy Terry on his stomach. Just when his strength was about to give out, he felt Mark grab his arm. Clinging to the both of them, Mark desperately hacked at the rope with a pocketknife he had pulled from his tuxedo pants.
It took Mark no more than twenty seconds to cut the rope, but Joshua, with the boy on his chest, was swallowing tremendous amounts of water. He couldn’t find enough air to get into his burning lungs. The sky was beginning to darken, and for a moment Joshua thought it was sunset and that they had been on the river all afternoon.
He then felt the rope snap, and the three of them were freed from the devilish pull of the raft. Mark took Terry’s limp body so Joshua could raise his chest and get desperately needed air. Joshua started to cough violently, and Mark saw water and blood spurt from his mouth. After the seizure ended, Joshua put his hand on Mark’s shoulder, and the two kicked with all of their strength to the riverbank.
By this time, Dennis had made it to shore with his son and had run upstream. He jumped back into the river to pull Joshua out while others helped Terry and Mark. When Terry was finally brought to dry ground, he rolled on his side, violently vomiting water and blood and moaning in pain. Within minutes, Mackenzie and Gabrielle, who had seen the accident from the riverbank, were by their sides.
Everything that followed that afternoon was a blur to both Mark and Joshua. Mark, as he told Pam later, remembered the incident in silent, still photographs: Terry’s body lying on the ground with his arm bloodied from a compound fracture, the tormented look on the face of his mother, Mackenzie, the lettering of the ambulance, Pam leaning over to kiss him.
He also remembered Mackenzie coming up to both Joshua and him and kissing them on the cheek, thanking them for saving the life of her only son. And small Charlotte Ross putting a blanket over his shoulders.
Joshua recalled those things as well. But he would also carry in his memory album Dennis Beezer extending a hand to Mark and almost carrying him to the ambulance. When Dennis returned, he said their race rivalry was over and that Joshua had won. Finally, Joshua would keep in his heart forever the expression in Brooke’s eyes as she looked down at him. In that moment, after such a horrendous experience, Joshua knew he loved her.