My Sinisterhand

After living in the Fort Bragg area of North Carolina for several years, I thought that finding an outdoor adventure that was challenging and unique would be difficult. My problem was my inability to see where I live as something more than just my home. After living here for a while, I found that I had become complacent and bored and believed that I had to go to some far off place to experience the wild. I could not have been more wrong. The adventure was there and waiting for me, but just needed to be realized and grasped.

With the help of Maria, my wife, and a couple of friends, I discovered my adventure. After returning, I am left with a craving for so much more! Even though this took place several months ago, I want to tell you my story here.

I had been wanting a kayak for quite some time, even more so since Maria and I paddled the inter-coastal waterway near Topsail, North Carolina the summer before. Longing for adventure, my good friend, Scott, and I purchased a kayak earlier this year. I saw an advertisement for 20% off all canoes and kayaks at Gander Mountain. After about an hour of perusing the selections they offered, I chose the Patriot Angler by Perception. We were both so excited the day we bought them. Barely an hour after getting them home from the store, we took them out to Mott Lake on Fort Bragg for a test run.

The first time out was a little awkward, but I was determined. Scott and I kayaked for the next few weekends around the small lakes on Fort Bragg getting to know the unfamiliar vessels, learning techniques and familiarizing ourselves with their maneuverability. We even ventured as far as Jordan Lake, east of Pittsboro, North Carolina, and camped out overnight on the bank. With our new kayaks barely broken in and our hunger for excitement, we decided we were ready for a real trip.

Scott and I began planning, and that by itself was exhilarating. We both enjoyed the anticipation as much as we hoped we would enjoy the trip. We selected a date, early June, and then began to sketch out the things we knew we wanted our trip to include.

One, we wanted it to be at least overnight but remained open to an additional night, also. Two, we wanted to move through some lonely, remote wilderness. I wanted to see the land fresh and rustic, imagining I was its first visitor, feeling not unlike a pioneer settler might. Three, because we were still a little uncertain of our capabilities, we did not want to be too far from familiar surroundings. Neither Scot, nor I, was sure how fast and how far we could move in one day. Four, we wanted to conclude our trip as close as possible to Fayetteville. Since we live near there, it just made sense to be able to wind down close to home for convenience’s sake. Finally, and quite possibly the most important factor of which Scott and I were in complete agreement, we wanted to have as much fun as possible. Deployment to Iraq for another rotation would soon be upon me, and I would not be home again for several months. Fun would be something I would miss. I wanted to take with me something on which I could reminisce.

We considered a few creeks around the Fayetteville area, but since we were looking for a challenge, nothing seemed to suit us. One day after work, I stopped by Scott’s house with some topographical maps and we talked about the Cape Fear River. It contained certain sections that might fit well into our plan. Maria mentioned that we might start at Raven Rock State Park, just west of Lillington, North Carolina, and paddle back down to Fayetteville. This sounded perfect. Now it was time for the gathering of some “Intel”.

We allowed ourselves a week to obtain information. We talked to friends, scoured the internet, and studied maps of the waterway. I had been to Raven Rock once before with Maria and remembered that the water was very low due to a drought in the region that year. We learned from the United States Geological Survey and a couple of other local agencies that for this time of year, the water was actually quite high. Next, we began to narrow down our entry point at Raven Rock and our pick up location at Fayetteville. We calculated an approximate 44-mile route from the Fish Traps at Raven Rock to the Person Street Bridge in downtown Fayetteville. Finally, our route was planned and our date was set. Things were really coming together. All that was left was to collect our gear and prepare our vessels.

Although the trip was relatively short in time and distance, we still wanted to be as prepared as possible for any unforeseen problems we might encounter. Because there was a limited amount of storage space, the task of selecting those things to carry along would have to be done well. The aft bulkhead of the kayak served as the perfect place to tuck away food and water. Simple deck rigging attached to the bow of the crafts allowed space where duffels could be stowed. With that little bit of added weight, the kayak actually seemed better balanced.

Scott suggested dehydrated meals from Mountain House. They carry easily and prepare super fast on a small camp stove. I own two different camp stoves; a PocketRocket, which uses compressed gas; and a SimmerLite, which uses white gas. I realized even then that I might be going a bit overboard carrying two stoves, but I wanted to also field test some of my gear for future adventures. Trail mix, beef jerky and my personal favorite, Superfood Slam Probars, would provide us with energy along the way. I placed the stove and my clothing in a pack and then covered the pack with an OR waterproof pack cover to protect it from splashing water. A standard US Army poncho liner and small one-man mosquito tent would suffice for sleeping. We packed all the gear into and onto our kayaks and prepared for the day we were going to leave.

To be continued…

Often times I find myself in a situation that leaves me with a mark of remembrance. Whether it is at a point of struggle or an instance of pain, I recount the experience over and over again as I examine the mark. I inspect closely the disfigured and misshapen form that once was and I remember. Sometimes they are too painful to look upon at first, with floods of emotion and memories that I cannot control. Other times they stand as standards of victories and accomplishments that I recall warmly. Regardless, they are a part of me. I count my scars and understand that it is through pain that we are brought here and it will be through pain we leave. Yet, I believe it will not be an eternal pain. The departing pain is the price that must be paid. It will be collected. There is no other recompense. Yet, it is through these scars that I find my struggle and journey most rewarding when the sun sets and I fall into that cousin of death. I awake the next day with just a little less tenderness, but always the memory and learning still.

Whatever is, is.
Nothing can both be and not be.
Everything must either be or not be.

I don’t profess to have all the answers and for the most part I am glad I don’t. Yet, what is it that angers and annoys me so much about my worldview being trashed and tread upon like dirt? I believe it is disrespecting and insulting to both the belief and even more for the person who holds it. I find friends and people in general are more approachable to an open dialogue about philosophies, worldviews, and topics on life when I respect them and their beliefs as if they were my own. Out of love for them as my fellow man, it doesn’t make sense to try and pick apart or destroy what they hold dear and use to live their lives daily. Whether the subject is culture, ethics, religion, or societal issues, each one of us holds some sort of worldview of them. Only through open and honest dialogue in a public domain can we work through these ideas, testing each one rationally and logically for coherence and correspondence to the world around us.

From the canyons of the mind,
We wander on and stumble blindly
Through the often-tangled maze
Of starless nights and sunless days,
While asking for some kind of clue
Or road to lead us to the truth,
But who will answer?

Side by side two people stand,
Together vowing, hand-in-hand
That love’s imbedded in their hearts,
But soon an empty feeling starts
To overwhelm their hollow lives,
And when they seek the hows and whys,
Who will answer?

On a strange and distant hill,
A young man’s lying very still.
His arms will never hold his child,
Because a bullet running wild
Has struck him down. And now we cry,
“Dear God, Oh, why, oh, why?”
But who will answer?

High upon a lonely ledge,
a figure teeters near the edge,
And jeering crowds collect below
To egg him on with, “Go, man, go!”
But who will ask what led him
To his private day of doom,
And who will answer?

If the soul is darkened
By a fear it cannot name,
If the mind is baffled
When the rules don’t fit the game,
Who will answer? Who will answer? Who will answer?

-Ed Ames

The simplicity that comes with being a child is unnerving to most adults. The lack of control and the care-free sense would drive most of us insane. Their actions are simple and without regret, almost as if we, the learned and self aware, have forgotten how to act without reservation or hesitation. It amazes me to see the truth in a child’s ways. I do believe in choosing wisely and counting the cost of my actions. However, it seems to me that we have become enthralled with the decision making process and have left the actual choice out in the rain. We hold our heads high because we can process complex decisions and come to a rational and relative decision without using prejudice or emotion. Yet, we have lost the flavor of taking risks and being bold. I find that the journey is more enjoyable if I struggle all along the way. It prevents me from forgetting the journey and allows me to relish in my victories and learn from my losses.

Audaces Fortuna Juvat

-Jason