Trust the River

Scott Glenn felt like a failure with plenty of evidence to back it up, not the least of which was the fight three nights ago with his son Layne who had told his parents he wanted to study drama in college. Scott lost his temper, “It’s your choice, but I won’t support it.” When Kate came to him later, her soft question broke him, “What happened to the adventurer I fell in love with?”

As a young man, Scott had taken a job with the Williams Expedition Team, who took professional men and women on wilderness journeys for restoration. Every day he enjoyed a new adventure. Then, Scott met Kate.

When Scott left WET to begin his life as a sales and marketing assistant for Holmes and Pearl, he knew things would change, but he thought it was just a new adventure.

Seven months ago, now the Senior Marketing VP, Scott became the victim of corporate cutbacks, Scott had sent resumes to several dozen employers with no response, but Kate’s question tore into Scott’s soul. Scott knew something was broken, but he had no idea what.

As he sat up that night, trying to figure out when the money from his severance would run out, Kate came to him again. “Scott, I love you, and I want to help you, but I am not sure I can. So, I want you to leave.” Scott was stunned. “I found a place in the Dakotas, where you can camp and kayak for three days, and see almost no one. Scott, I want you to go find the man that got lost somewhere in the last twenty-five years.”

“We can’t afford that,” Scott said dully.

“Scott,” Kate spoke softly but firmly, “We, you and me, can’t afford for you not to go.” She got up to leave then turned back, “and Scott,” Scott looked and she had tears in her eyes, “if you don’t find him. Don’t come back.”

Now, Scott stood on the docks of Moe’s Canoe and Kayak rental on the north Missouri river preparing to launch. He set out with a tent, Coleman stove, a cot, a bed roll, his coffee maker and enough coffee for a month, prepared food for six days in a cooler that barely fit in the kayak and his brand new “roughing it” clothes from REI, one tarp, some rope, his flint and steel, and his pocketknife. Billy, Moe’s grandson, asked, “You sure you need all that?”

“I used to do this all the time,” Scott assured him.

“Suit yourself,” Billy replied as he walked away shaking his head.

So, maybe he used only carry matches, clothes, a tarp and a bedroll, and his knife, but he was older now and needed his amenities. Besides, how bad could the river be if they let you go out on your own for three days?

As Scott began, he felt sure this was the vacation he needed. He was going to relax and enjoy himself. The peace of the river and the sun would do him good.

By noon, Scott was already exhausted, but if he didn’t get his 14 miles in today, he would be behind on the rest of the trip, so he pushed on. By two o’clock in the afternoon, cloud cover had cooled things off and Scott was thankful. Then he heard the river ahead. Rapids.

As he rounded the bend he realized, he may not be as prepared as he thought. These rapids had to be at least class four. He suddenly filled with fear.

As his kayak moved swiftly toward the rapids, Scott worried more about staying alive than all his stuff. He hit the rapids and in an instant, he saw Billy shaking his head, as the kayak tipped sideways. Feeling the shift in balance, Scott over corrected and lost his cooler of food. The sudden weight change caused the boat to leap in the water, and Scott felt more than saw his tent and cot fall out next. Scott grabbed the sides of the boat and hung on for dear life. The kayak leapt again and spun around sending Scott backward over a bank. The back end of the kayak hit a large boulder, spinning Scott back around and out into the river again.

As he looked up, the danger was over, but all that was left in the boat was a tarp and some rope that had tangled in the line on the back of the kayak. The rest of Scott’s brand new “adventure” gear sped ahead of him, caught in the current, and he knew, he would never see it again.

Following the ordeal, Scott needed to find a hidden tree somewhere and catch his breath, so he pulled his kayak to the shore and stepped into the woods. As he finished his business, thunder clapped, and the rain began to pour. “Great,” Scott thought, “I still have at least two hours ahead of me.” He returned to his kayak, grabbed the tarp, secured the boat with the rope, and found and outcropping to sit under, while the rain poured.

When the rain let up, Scott knew he had lost almost two and half hours of prime paddling. Exhausted, wet, and depressed, Scott went to the kayak and started down the river again.

As dusk fell, Scott had nothing left. He had no more energy, and he was angry at everyone: Kate for sending him here, Billy for not giving him more warning, and God for the bad weather. “Couldn’t give me this one?” Scott yelled to the sky. Then he thought, “He’s probably not listening either,” and he pulled his boat back on to the bank, high enough so he wouldn’t have to tie it down. He would need the rope.

As Scott headed into the woods to find a good place for camp and maybe a little dry wood to start a fire, he saw a green glow coming from somewhere up ahead. As Scott moved closer to the light it seemed to shimmer like lightning then it faded. As he rounded a larger tree and saw a man sitting at a campfire.

The man had long dark hair with feathers in it and a sharp nose. He was cooking something, and Scott realized just how hungry he was. Without looking up, the man spoke, “There is plenty, come.”

Scott stepped out from the trees. "Thanks,” Scott almost whispered and made his way to a log on the other side of the fire. The warmth of the fire soothed everything in Scott, and the anger he had been feeling moments ago abated.

“I’m Scott Glenn,” Scott said.

“Mmm,” the man grunted, “I am Mato Waayalo, but you can call me Bear.”

“Bear,” Scott repeated. “Is that what Mato Wa…,” Scott paused, “Is that what your name means in English?”

“The full meaning is Growling Bear,” the man glared at Scott, and Scott wondered if he was intruding. Then a giant grin came on the man’s face, “But I growl much less these days.” Scott let out a breath and laughed lightly.

“You are Mni Akicita, Water Warrior.”

Scott laughed, “I wasn’t much of a water warrior today. The water did most of the fighting.”

“Yes, because you fight.” Bear said. Scott sat puzzled by the statement. After a moment of silence, Bear continued, “You fight the river, so it fights back. You must learn to trust the river. It knows where it is going. It will take you to where you must go as well.”

“You saw me?” Scott questioned.

The wise man stared again at Scott for a moment, “You are not the first white man to come here seeking something he has lost.”

Suddenly, Scott wondered just how much this stranger knew. He felt as if he were speaking to a wise old medicine man in the 1600’s, but the man’s clothes were as modern as his own.

“Do most of them find what they are looking for?” Scott heard himself ask.

Bear pulled a skewered fish from the flames and handed it to Scott, then took one for himself and sat down closer to Scott. “Those who choose to fight the river never find peace, those who trust the river and the great maker of the river, find many things they never expected. What have you lost?”

At first, Scott was tempted to rattle off the list of items that fell in the river, but instead he chose to trust this man, “Myself.” The man gave him a questioning look. So Scott explained, “When I was a young man, I saw the whole world as an adventure. Every challenge was just another chance to grow. Somewhere along my journey, I lost that. I became a man of fear.”

“When?” Bear asked.

“I don’t know,” Scott responded a little defensive, “I guess that’s what I am trying to figure out.”

“Then stop talking and ask yourself,” Bear was abrupt.

Scott started to respond again, and Bear held up his hand, “Ask the young man, when he left?” he said softer.

Scott stared into the fire for a long time letting himself think, letting his heart stir, but could not find an answer. Scott was jolted when he heard Bear growl. Scott looked up.

“White men always look into the fire to see. Look into the darkness.”

Scott realized that Bear was facing away from the flames. When he turned around as well, Scott noticed the comfort of the heat on his back, then once his eyes had adjusted, he saw the stars through the trees, bigger than he had seen in a long time. Then he saw the river.

His years of work came to his mind, then the faces of his sons flashed before him. He thought about his house, the three cars the family owned, and the bills that needed covered every week, then Kate’s face came in front of him. Suddenly all the things he had fought to have for them meant less than they did. He had gained the whole world, but almost lost his soul.

He had fought to make the river of life work for him, instead of trusting it to take him where he needed to go. He forgot why he worked and why any of it mattered. He realized the young adventurer had never left, but he had been trapped beneath the weight of so much stuff. In that moment, Scott decided to relax and take life as it came again. He could lose everything, if he had God to cover him and Kate and the boys to cling to. With tears in his eyes Scott looked up at Bear, who smiled back, crackled with green lightning, and disappeared.

The next two days on the river were an adventure and a treasure hunt. Scott rode the rapids with whoops of joy, and in the still places he kept finding things: a tent, a cot, a cooler, a coffee pot, and his backpack. The items had clearly been beaten by the rocks and rapids but were all more than serviceable. Scott’s biggest regret was that the cooler was empty, but he had used his knife to carve a makeshift spear and had been able to get enough fish to keep him fed each day. While streams running over rocks provided plenty of clean drinking water.

When he arrived back at Moe’s on the third day, Billy gladly accepted the donation of all the gear. “You sure?” Billy asked.

“It’s just stuff,” Scott said, “Next time I’ll bring necessities only.”

As Scott drove back into Cincinnati, he came over the hill and around the bend where the city came into view. He looked down on the traffic and the roads twisting and turning. He saw the river. Scott did not know where the river would take him, but he would trust it.

He whooped and headed for the rapids.