We left you last week on the banks of the Okmulgee River
during an expedition down the flooded waterway with a group of teenage boys
trying to put their lives back together. We were all learning lessons about
anger, and before the trip was over the river would have more to teach us.
Let’s continue the journey.
The eleven adjudicated teenage boys under our care had all suffered the
consequences of anger. Some were in fact adjudicated because they had acted out
in anger: getting into fights, destroying property or being convicted of
the catch-all charge of “terroristic threats.” Anger is a normal part of the
growing pains of youth. It can be a challenge for the best of families even
with the support of the community and the school. The majority of our boys did
not; indeed the majority of adjudicated youth do not have the luxury of a
healthy and functioning support system. Most of them were from broken or
dysfunctional families, a condition which remains a reliable indicator of
future crime.
The capsizing of a canoe and the rescue of two boys from the frigid water had
sent a shock wave throughout the group. Jon and Mike, my two fellow
instructors, both veterans of wilderness expeditions, had been able to pull the
two shivering lads out of the water and into their own boat and they came
around the bend in the river with the boys and their now empty canoe in tow to
join the rest of the crew gunwaled-up in an eddy. Time was of the essence
as we passed the two waterlogged boys across our makeshift raft like cordwood,
stripping off their wet clothes and putting on dry polypropylene and wool. Mike
boiled some water on his small primus stove to make a hot beverage while I dug
into my river bag for peanut butter and cheese for some fast fuel to warm the
boys.
The sun was sinking westward as we pushed our raft of canoes back out into the
river. We stayed gunwaled-up for a while as we talked to the boys, making sure
that they were confident enough to continue the expedition, at least as far as
a campsite for the night. Time was not our ally as we searched for a spot to
camp in the lengthening shadows. Our river notes were useless now that all the
known campsites and sandbars were under several feet of water. At dusk we
finally found a small embankment, now an island just a few feet above the
water, barely large enough for a few tents. As we unloaded our gear Jon quietly
told me that, though the boys were docile now, when the shock subsided and they
settled in for the night, we would have some “behaviors.”
Strong emotions, especially fear, can resolve into anger when we lack the tools
or the understanding to process them. One of the longest nights of my life
began as my two fellow guides and I made plans to keep watch, not only on the
boys, but on the river should it continue to rise. The first fight broke out as
we were preparing the evening meal. By morning we were forced to intervene more
than a dozen times to prevent continued violence. During a few quiet
moments just before dawn as the exhausted group finally succumbed to sleep, we
decided that at daybrwould paddle downstream alone to Hawkinsville, Georgia to
recon a campsite, call in our support team and arrange for resupply of our lost
provisions.
The sun broke through the clouds for a moment just as I pushed off and headed
downriver, and then it disappeared again as the rain returned. The normally
lazy black water of the Okmulgee was moving rapidly and just a few miles from
our campsite, there was no land in site and it was getting harder to discern
the main channel. A river out of its banks makes its own path and several times
the current heading off into the trees was stronger than the main course. Alone
in a canoe heavily loaded with provisions the adrenaline of my extreme
situation banished all sleepiness from the long night as I fought to navigate
the sharp turns away from hazards on both banks.
At one sharp bend in the river I went wide to river-left to avoid a strainer –
and headed directly into a downed tree. Unable to make the turn I tried
to hit the tree with the bow, but the rushing water soon turned my boat
alongside the almost horizontal trunk of the tree and threatened to flip me over
and under. Wedging my paddle under the seat I grabbed the trunk of the tree in
a bear hug and tried to steady the boat with my legs.
We are amazingly strong when we are afraid. Alone, with no land in sight and a
rushing river trying to push me under a tree, I was able to keep the boat from
capsizing, but fatigue began to set in. They say that faced with death, our
life flashes before our eyes, but I think we rarely have time for that. I knew
that eventually my legs would give out and I would lose the boat and be left
clinging to a tree with nothing but a lifejacket and the contents of my
pockets. If anger and desperation are not the same things, they are at
least first cousins. As my legs began to fail, I got angry at my untenable
situation and the last of my adrenaline was enough to pull myself and the boat
along the length of the tree, breaking limbs and tearing cloth and skin, until
the upper branches were weak enough to let the canoe break free.
We will pick up the journey next week.
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