Nearly Deliverance

by surfermike

Posted to Stories on 2002-03-04 16:17:00

My wife has a wonderfull extended
family. One of those rare bonding
groups that love each other with no’
conditions or hidden agendas. Her
fathers’ name is Roy, and he is just
three years older than me. Normally
this situation would seem strained,
but it is the opposite, as Roy and I are
very comfortable with each other. He
feels I have been good for his daughter,
and my relationship with the rest of
her family is smooth also.

There is an area of British Columbia called
the Cariboo. It’s wild, with farms and lakes.
People are of a western flavour. In the
summer there are Rodeos’ in every town, and
you could call this the salt of the Canadaian
West. Roy and his family own a log house on
a lake. He not only owns the house but,
acres of land and perhaps the lake itself.
It is absolutely gorgeous. There is no
electricity, but the house is kerosean lit with
a dozen lamps. A natural creek runs through the
land, and it is twenty miles from any form of
civilation. The gravel road leading in, is quite
scary during the winter.

On Christmas day (2000) we all went to this
wonderfull house for a week. Chopped wood, and
heated water on a stove for a hot bath.
The house has been featured in magazines for
it’s beauty and solitude.

The lake was frozen over that Christmas, and I
talked Roy into jogging across. The distance
was aproximately 3 miles one way. We set off,
and as we reached the middle of the lake I
stopped to look at the breathtaking snow capped
mountains and the house in the distance with the
smoke billowing from the chiminey. What a sight.
What had the first native Canadaians thought when
they settled here? Did they know it was beautifull,
or was it just part of a daily painting? The lake
wasn’t completely frozen in the middle so we
seperated in case one fell through, the other
could rescue him.

We reached the other side. I asked Roy if anyone
ever came over here. It looked so unspoiled and
virginal. He said just his family, as far as he
knew. We strolled into the forest and then we saw
it. An abandoned camp. A lean-to, and a hole in
the ground with a roll of toilet tissue. Inside the
shelter was a soiled filthy matress. You could see
where there had been a fire. I must say I felt
rather freaky for a few minutes. We both looked at
each other, and grinned. “What the fuck?” asked Roy.
“Don’t ask me,” I answered. We slowly checked out
the surrounding area, and the snow had no foot
prints, so this was an old sight.

I Came home from that trip a little less confidant
as to the solitude and saftey of that wonderfull
spot. We havn’t been back since. I will go back,
but with a different attitude. One of caution.
Alway remember those ‘Crackers’ in the film
“Deliverance.” Just before Ned Beattie is raped
the Ozark dude says – “You aint never gonna get to
Aintree.”