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It is with a small amount of pride that I present the following story. It is written by my Grandson Clifford Lindsay,14 years old, for his Grade Nine English Class. I should mention that he called me quite excited the other day… he had found out that he was awarded a 95% of the story!
I hope you enjoy it.
To give him feedback you can email him at "Clifford Lindsay" clifford.lindsay@gmail.com
Today’s Blog Post - Clifford Lindsay
Canoe-Head
It was late afternoon at the boat launch, the only sound to be heard was the water gently gliding to the river bank. A well built man was launching his canoe up the French river. Following him was an upset woman with an abnormally large belly.
“You promise you’ll be home in three days? The baby is due next week and you can’t miss it,” she complained. “I would rather you not even go. Don’t go.”
“I would never miss it. I’ll be back in three days – tops,” the man called back as he gracefully leaped in the canoe. “Don’t worry. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He started paddling hard upstream. Betty, his pregnant wife stood on the river bank, watching him go.
John Irondale was a tall thin muscular man. He had piercing green eyes that went perfectly with his square jaw and his short thick dark brown hair. When John was at work, his mind was often out on a river. He would be thinking about and planning the next time he will get out in his canoe again. He had a unique ability to approach nature without the animals having the slightest amount of fear. He also had an extraordinary ability to read and navigate difficult rapids without his canoe ever getting a scratch.
The river was perfect. There was no wind as day turned to night and there was a full, bright moon, so John canoed all night. He had so many things swirling around in his head about being a new father. There was no way he could sleep anyway, nor did he want to. He just kept paddling his heavy aluminum canoe upstream, along the river until he was very tired and hungry.
Being an outgoing, friendly man, he decided to wait until he met another canoe tripper or camper to share a meal and even bunk with. He kept on paddling, eating only granola bars and apples, until he saw a camp site up ahead. He decided to head up there.
By the time John got over to the camp site it was about lunch time. He called out, “HELLO THERE ON THE SHORE!” Two men came out into the open and waved for him to come over. When John was close enough to dock he noticed that the camp site had a pile of garbage near the river. He was disgusted. There were four men now that all came to the side of the river to help carry John’s big canoe onto the shore.
“That is a heavy load you got there,” the biggest man said in a heavy Yankee accent, gesturing towards the canoe. “I don’t know how you lift it.”
“I know. I call her The Beast. She is heavy as heck, but I love her,” John replied. “Could I trouble you for some food? I have been canoeing for about twenty straight hours and I am starved to death.”
The men agreed and it just so happened that they were making lunch when John arrived, so he did not have to wait too long. When he finished, the four men offered John a beer. He declined, but when they offered to let him nap in their tent, he couldn’t say no.
When John woke up from his nap, he looked outside the tent and saw the four men sitting around the camp fire drinking beer. The empties were piled high and there was broken glass everywhere.
“I hope you guys are going to clean all this up,” John warned.
“Are you kidding?” the big Yankee laughed. “Why should we clean it up when the next camper will do it for us?”
John grabbed the man by the throat, pulled him out of his chair, lifted him against a tree and said in a low voice, “Clean it up NOW!” he ordered.
The two men starred at each other for about five seconds. Then in a taunting voice the big Yankee said, “No.”
Without hesitating, John gave him a punch between the eyes so hard that it knocked the man unconscious. After this, the other three men jumped up and gang-tackled John. All that John felt was blows to the face and body. He did not want to give up but there was nothing he could do. They had his arms and legs pinned down. His back was getting sliced up by the broken glass on the ground. The last feeling he had was a heel kick to the face. He couldn’t go on any longer. Everything was now in slow motion and then faded out.
* **
“It’s coming!” Betty said as she broke out into a cold sweat. “Get me to the hospital now!”
“Are you sure you don’t want to wait for John?” An elderly lady asked.
Betty hobbled out the door the best she could with a baby already on its way – six days before the due date!
“Mom, I need you to drive me to the hospital NOW!” Betty screamed.
Betty’s mom hopped in the car and started to drive. As they drove to the hospital they listened to the radio and heard the weather man reporting a severe storm watch for the area.
***
Everything hurt. It felt like he got hit by a train. John sat up. He realized that he was in his canoe floating down the river. As he scanned his body, everything was either black and blue or bleeding from cuts. There were still pieces of broken glass stuck in his skin. He realized his shoes and socks were back at the camp. By now it was about 6:30 pm. There was a gentle rain but he could tell there was a big storm coming. He had a dozen emotions running through his head but nothing as big as revenge. He decided to continue down the river to find some shelter, wait out the oncoming storm and nurse his wounds.
About two kilometers farther down the river there was a huge waterfall that he had to portage around. By now it was pouring rain so hard that he could hardly see in front of himself. He pulled to the side of the river, picked up his heavy aluminum canoe and started maneuvering it through the forest trail. His shoeless feet were freezing on the cold granite ground. As he walked on – 700, 800, 900 yards – his neck was getting sore from carrying his canoe all this way, but all he could think about was revenge.
Suddenly he heard a huge CRACK! There was a flash of light and excruciating pain. His whole body was screaming with pain. He could feel his aluminum canoe melt to the back of his head, neck and shoulders. His bare feet were burning as he felt the hot granite rock melting and crawling up his legs and body. It seemed to take hours and seconds at the same time, and then finally it was over as he fell to the ground with a heavy thump.
***
That very moment in a North Bay Hospital, the same flash of lightening made the lights flicker and you could hear a newborn baby cry. The doctor told Mrs. Irondale, “You have a healthy baby boy! Congratulations!”
***
When the first rays of morning sunlight hit his face, John tried to open his eyes. He felt as though his head was going to explode. He tried to get up but failed. He felt like he was four hundred pounds heavier. When his eyes adjusted, he saw he was lying on his side, on a trail facing a waterfall and he realized he could not move his neck. John reached up to feel his neck and shoulders and to his surprise he felt metal. He moved his arm closer to his head and he followed the cold smooth metal up the back of his head and then onto his canoe. He looked on his hands and saw many cuts, but he could not remember where he got them from. His skin did not seem normal – it looked like skin, but felt like rock. Again he tried to get up, this time with all his force. He stumbled to get his balance once again. When he walked, it was like having a neck brace on. He could not move his neck properly. To look around he had to move his whole body.
All he could remember was revenge. He knew his name was John, but he did not know how this canoe became part of his body or how his skin had become like granite. One more thing, there were four faces in his mind. He did not know who they were; he just wanted to kill them. He turned back.
***
The four campers had packed up their tents, loaded up their canoes and got ready to continue their trip downstream. They were laughing about the mess they had left behind and imagining the look on that crazy guy’s face when he found all of his belongings burnt in the fire.
***
John Irondale was standing above the waterfall wondering how to proceed. He could not canoe normally with his head attached to the canoe this way. There was no path upstream to portage the whole way. He decided to wade into the water. He glanced at the river bottom. He noticed all the zebra mussels on the river floor. He was just thinking he should be careful not to step on them when he slipped on a rock, lost his footing, and stepped heavily on all the zebra mussels. He screamed instinctively but then hesitated. There was no pain. He checked his foot. Surprisingly it wasn’t cut, but his eyes were drawn to all the zebra mussels, now crushed, on the river floor. He smiled. With all of his force, he kicked a rock. It cracked and he felt no pain. He continued walking into deeper waters. He stepped past a drop-off and sank like a stone.
As his feet hit the bottom he took stock of his situation. He could still breathe because of an air pocket in the hull of the canoe. In fact his face was still dry. He didn’t feel cold, even though he knew the water was colder down in the deep. It was very easy for him to maneuver, because the air pocket inside the hull was pulling him up. When he jumped it was like walking on the moon. He could move very quickly.
John continued upstream. The four campers were coming downstream straight towards John Irondale.
John came to a place where the river became shallow and swift. He heard the turbulence of the water but there was a louder sound of familiar voices and paddles slapping against the water. As the water grew shallower his canoe began to emerge. The four men were chatting and enjoying the speed of the river, oblivious to the fact that John Irondale was directly ahead of them in the water, waist deep, and lumbering towards shallower waters.
The steersman in the first boat called out with a thick Yankee accent, “Hey, that’s the guy that had the problem with our beer bottles.”
“Don’t you know that you are supposed to sit in the canoe when you are in the water?” the leader teased.
Without a word, John lowered his head and charged towards the lead canoe. The men were caught unprepared. They tried to avoid the aluminum missile but they were too late. The bow of John’s canoe tore through the fiberglass. It was like a hammer smashing drywall.
The two men jumped into the knee-deep water. The other canoe, about twenty yards away, approached, excited to be in another fight. But this was not the same John Irondale that they encountered yesterday.
John did a quick ninety-degree turn towards the Yankee steersman, knocking his head with his deadly aluminum bow. The man in the bow ducked under the aluminum stern that was swinging towards his head, by diving sideways into the water. Without hesitation, John stepped towards the big dazed Yankee, grabbed his hair with his left hand, held him there and with his right hand, and delivered a bone shattering punch, driving his nose upwards into his head. The victim went limp. John had no sooner released him into his watery grave, when “CRACK” – a paddle shattered across his back.
The second man had swung the paddle hard enough to break John’s back, but instead, the paddle shattered into kindling. It had only gained John’s attention. Now with no weapon, the man chose to run. The slippery scum on the rocks made it difficult for him to run, but not for John Irondale. As the man stumbled and fell on his face, John swung his leg up and when his heel connected with the base of the man’s skull, it was as if one thousand pounds of granite turned his skull to mush. The current carried the man away, face first in the river.
John turned to the other canoe and finally spoke.
“Go Back! CLEAN UP YOUR MESS!” he said in a cold, dark, raspy voice, full of pain and anger.
The canoe turned around and started going back upstream, where it had come from, as fast as the two men could paddle.
Afterward….
John Irondale has never been able to go home. Now half-man, half-canoe, he wanders the rivers and lakes of the Canadian Shield. He is a militant environmentalist. Many campers and adventurers claim to have seen Canoe-Head as far away as places like James Bay, the Red River and the Saint Lawrence River. Every year, there are unexplained deaths throughout the Canadian Shield. People always suspect bear activity is the most reasonable explanation. But those who know about Canoe-Head know the truth.
Remember to leave your camp-sight cleaner than when you found it, or else Canoe-Head might find YOU!
~ Murray Lincoln ~
http://www.murraylincoln.com/
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