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Freaking the Gim-Snake

My paddling partner Andy is a herpetologist. This does not mean that he has herpes...which he may, although skull-popping bug-craziness is usually a symptom of syphilis and not herpes. Being a herpetologist means that he is fascinated with reptiles. Obsessed. He has a genuine fetish for all belly-crawling beasts possessed of cold blood and scales.

Andy still lives with his parents, and they occasionally complain about his hobbies. The time that the ten-pound monitor lizard and the twelve-foot Burmese python got loose and ran amok during the family reunion...well...what can I say about that that hasn't already been said by someone else? Ever seen a monitor lizard plow through a bowl of cherry jello fruit salad?

As you may know, snakes are often spotted by paddlers. It's generally true that snakes like to rest on sunny rocks beside quiet rivers, where they nap and wait on chicken-flavored frogs to hop by. Snakes occasionally go in for a swim; I once saw a copperhead run through Three Chutes rapid on the Hiwassee river. That was one of the derndest things I've ever seen, because copperheads are, in theory, cold-blooded animals and the Hiwassee has colder blood than any snake. I guess that urge to commune with the river gods moves as strongly within the reptilia as within the mammalia.

But the river gods have the occasional red-headed stepchild. My other paddling partner Skeezix has a brother named Gim (pronounced "Jim"...you figure it out) who seems to be a constant first-time Ocoee paddler although he's been down the river a half dozen times. The old joke goes that at the Indianapolis 500 the most common words are "Andretti is slowing down", and at the Ocoee the most common words are "Gim is swimming". The boy can't run a line, he misses his rolls, and he gets munched in the holes like a bag of Cheetos. It's amazing...we keep him around as sort of a lightning rod for bad karma. He's the designated swimmer. His problem is that he gets nervous right before a rapid, and he can't think clearly through his fear. He thinks "I'm gonna drown...I'm gonna drown...I'm gonna drown", and he does.

(Oh, Lord...here we go. My hands are trembling and there's a wierd buzzing in my chest. This story is sheer madness. Should I pull out one of those stolen prescription blanks, scribble around in my worst handwriting, and try to walk out of Walgreen's with a few bottles of the latest brain shaker? Prozac? Darvon? Lithium? Maybe not. Writing is supposed to be theraputic, right? Let me tell you my snake story.)

Last Friday night Andy, Skeezix, Gim, and I went camping in Turtletown (about ten minutes from the Ocoee Olympic Site) as a prelude to our Saturday morning run down the river, and as we were setting up camp Andy surprised a five-foot rat-swollen black snake behind a bush. Anyone else would have run like hell for the biggest, fattest, bluntest tire iron in four counties, but Andy (being a herpetologist) actually CAUGHT the damned thing WITH HIS BARE HANDS and locked it up in the back of his camper-topped pickup truck. I stutter just thinking about that...all of our gear, food, and beer was in there...as well as power tools, a rifle, two handguns, a five-gallon can of gasoline...and to lock up a snake in there was just plain WRONG! RUDE! EVIL! A sin against nature and a definitely a sin against man.

Why, Lord (I prayed), oh why do so many of my paddling misadventures have to do with dangerous animals? From the berzerk beer-swilling Swine King on the Chattooga to bat-fishing with the Mule Boy (of which I will NOT write), I have been abused by every phylum of the Animal Kingdom, save none. Marlon Perkins and his sidekick Jim should have my luck with wild animals...and I for damn sure need their life insurance. I can't believe it sometimes. And here one of my best friends was setting me up for another wild ride.

Anyway, I zipped up my tent very firmly that night and my dreams were restless. The night passed slowly, and in the morning as I was stretching out my kinked neck I heard Andy cursing.

"That black snake escaped," he said bitterly. "Sumbitch was worth at least two-fifty." He shook his head. "Coulda traded him for five or six iguanas. Guess he squeezed out between the liftgate and the camper top."

"I know you hate that," I replied, "but I couldn't stand the thought of that snake being in there with all our stuff. Hell, I like snakes. But I like beer, too, and I couldn't get one out of there without worrying about getting hugged." He smiled.

That was all we said about the matter...we cooked breakfast, ate, packed, and drove west to the Ocoee. We had a great day, and for the first time Gim really seemed to have his act together. He seemed really intense...he was grim and silent, and occasionally his face would go pale, but he ran the river righteously and with great speed. At the end of the day he got so far ahead of us that we decided we'd just take our time and catch up to him.

We ran through the last series of rapids, and Skeezix and I talked about Gim's run. "Gim hit Broken Nose like he was born there," I said. "At Tablesaw he never even had to lean or brace...it was like he was riding on pontoons or something. I've never seen anyone run the river that well."

"Yeah...he's been talking a lot about how he's frustrated, and I think he's taking this a lot more seriously than he used to," Skeezix answered. "He's got the makings of a good paddler. I think he finally realizes that this river's not out to kill him, and he's relaxing."

"He did seem calm today...none of the usual jabbering about how scared he is or any of the quick breathing," I said. "Remember when he hyperventilated at Double Suck? I thought he was going to faint on us. Something's gotten into him."

"Valium, most likely," said Andy. We kept paddling.

After discussing Gim's steady run that day, imagine our surprise when we got to the takeout and we found Gim lying in a dead faint. We had just been talking about that, for criminey's sake. He was stretched out across the parking lot beside his boat, and he was out colder than the Nantahala river.

We smacked his cheeks a bit and called his name a few times, and he came around slowly.

"Oh, thank God it's over..." he moaned. "Terrible, terrible! Never...oh, it was tight!" He slumped.

Eh? What was that? I cocked my head and looked quizzically at Skeezix and Andy. Skeezix seized his water bottle from his boat and emptied it across Gim's face. Gim coughed and spluttered, and his eyes cleared. He lept to his feet and seized Andy by the collar of his wetsuit.

"You bastard!" he roared. "You and your reptiles! You nearly got me killed!"

Skeezix and I grabbed him and hauled him off Andy, who had a look of disbelief on his face. "What the hell's the matter with you, boy?" Andy asked.

"That snake, that snake!" Gim shouted. "It didn't escape! It was in my boat the whole time!"

Well...we got Gim calmed down and he told us the story. Apparently the snake had gotten loose from the truck by squeezing between the tailgate and the camper top, and it had crawled up the truck to find a place to hide. It found a convenient hole, which happened to be a cockpit, and it slithered down into the stern of Gim's boat. Once there it squeezed past the airbags and went to sleep, because it was still full of undigested rat.

And that's the way things should have stayed, except that when Gim's boat hit the water the snake began to realize that something wasn't quite right, and it stirred out of its hidey-hole to see what was the matter. Gim's first realization that something was wrong came when the snake slid around his waist and poked its head up between his thighs. Gim couldn't see all of this going on because of his spray skirt, of course, but he could sure feel the snake as it slowly wrapped around his waist.

"I was so scared that I couldn't move for a while..." he said, and we all shook our heads. After he realized that he was sharing the boat with a guest and he regained his composure, he was right on top of the rapid called Broken Nose, which is about a mile into the six-mile run. Every time the boat got jostled the snake would tighten its grip around Gim's waist, and Gim eventually decided that the best course of action was to run the river as smoothly and quickly as possible, and then to bail out of the boat at the takeout where he would have plenty of people around to help in case of trouble.

Well...that's how it went. Gim made it to the takeout, he leaped out of his boat and ran up the ramp, the snake took off for parts unknown, and Gim fainted in terror and relief.

And that should be the end of the story...except that...

About a half hour later, after all of the excitement had died down, it occurred to me to look around the parking lot. Lots of pickup trucks and camper tops at the takeout that day. Lots of cars.

Lots of boats.

So if you were at the Ocoee last Saturday, and you're thinking about your next week's run, you might just want to check your boat for stowaways first. Because I keep thinking about how I saw that copperhead glide through Three Chutes on the Hiwassee, and how humans aren't the only animals with adrenal glands. And how maybe that black snake was squeezing Gim's waist in joy and excitement rather than in fear. Think he might want another ride?

Make sure you check behind your air bags. Apparently they can scrunch in there pretty easily.
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