Underwater Contemplations ( #AtoZChallenge )

       Ever wonder what might be found under the waters of a river?   Sunken vessels?  Lost valuables?  Dead bodies?   Maybe any of these and more...

Underwater Contemplations

Underwater scenery  (pinterest)

              Decades ago I shared a cabin near the Great Smoky Mountains with three of my friends. We were within easy walking distance of the park boundary which gave us ample opportunity to hike some amazing secluded trails that were not frequented by many hikers.  

            One trail that began near our cabin went to the top of Kelly's Ridge where we found a large spring or outpouring of water that disappeared into a very deep sinkhole.  The waterfall was perhaps 50 feet high or so and the hole maybe was as much as a hundred feet deep.  Relying on memory it's difficult to say.  The water vanished into what appeared to be a cave.  Due to the great depth we never attempted to descend into this sinkhole.  However, along the trail that led up to the sinkhole we found a number of potential entrances into a cave system.  Most of these entrances were far too small to get through, but there was one point near the bottom of the mountain with a large opening that seemed to dead end until we realized that there was a narrow crevice that one could crawl through in order to descend into the cave system that likely connected to the spring some distance away.

          Crawling on our bellies we descended though this crevice for perhaps thirty feet until we could hear what sounded like a rushing of waters.  At the bottom of the passage we found ourselves at the top of an approximately eight foot waterfall that seemed to be coming out of the ground at the higher level and descending into a larger room with a sandy bottom where the pooling water from the fall was draining into the ground presumably to reemerge somewhere further down the mountain where the stream most likely emptied into nearby Laurel Lake.  We never bothered to continue following the stream but it seemed obvious that this waterway had descended mostly underground from the spring at the mountaintop.  

         The waterfall was the highlight of that particular cave.  There were tight passageways that continued for a considerable length, but none of us were particularly enthusiastic about pursuing the exploration.  It was an interesting experience that I did with various friends about three times until I started having nightmares about being trapped underground.  That was it for me.  And anyway, soon after those spelunking treks we moved from the cabin and I never went back there to hike.

        My experience was with what I would call an underground stream, but there are a number of underground rivers that are quite similar.  There are also rivers that don't necessarily go through cave systems, but they just disappear under the ground.  In my research for this River Series I even ran across stories about rivers that are under the ocean or under other rivers.  What we might not fully know the full extent is whether there are layers of rivers that descend deep into the Earth.

      When I think about rivers--especially the larger ones--I am more apt to think about what is under the river waters.  Some rivers are dredged and most likely some of the debris at the bottom is cleaned up in that process.   But what about those rivers that are not cleaned in some such way?   What secrets do they hold?

        A few years ago in East Tennessee the Chilhowee Lake was drained in order to do maintenance on the dam holding back the waters of the Little Tennessee River which formed the lake. Most of the lake bottom was exposed during this maintenance project.  As a result many remnants of the past were exposed such as vehicles dumped in the lake, old building foundations, bridges that had been inundated, and a vast assortment of other refuse and oddities.  

        Shortly after the dam work had been completed and the lake was beginning to fill up again, my brother and I went to check it out when I was visiting Tennessee.  We didn't find much other than a lot of discarded beer and soft drink cans and bottles.  Some of them dated back to the fifties or sixties judging by their designs.  We left the trash where we saw it. I guess we could have gotten trash bags and cleaned some of it up, but that wasn't on our agenda that day.   I guess that stuff went back to being under the water once again.  I'd say that what we saw would be fairly representational of what one would find under the waters of most rivers.

          Still, I dream of underwater treasures and mysteries that I will likely never find.

         Have you ever been underwater exploring in a river?  What would you expect to be the most common items to be found in a river?    Did you ever see a river or other body of water in the depths of a cavern?  

 

         

The Baloney Sandwich

         When Fred got arrested by the Monroe County Sheriff's deputies, he was the first one to admit that it was his fault and the deputies were completely justified to have hauled him in to jail.  He wouldn't have said it at the time it was happening, but after the fact, when he was thinking a bit more clearly, he said they did what they had to do and he wasn't mad at anyone really.

        Fred and some of the other guys he knew had decided to have a lost weekend camping on the wild side of the Chilhowee Lake, the part that is in the Cherokee National Forest.  They figured taking a boat across to the side that wasn't near a highway would be secluded and no one would be around to bother them while they got drunk and crazy.

        They were already getting pretty rowdy even before they found their camping spot in a small cove that allowed them to set up where they wouldn't be visible to anyone on the opposite side of the lake.  They'd been smoking pot, drinking beer, and maybe even indulging in some other unspecified substances.  Once they'd set up camp they continued their partying, getting as loud and crazy as they wanted to be.  After all, nobody could see them here and they just wanted to let loose.

         Just when the fun and nonsense was getting underway, there was an unwelcome intrusion.   A boat with two couples--probably students from one of the nearby colleges--came into the cove and they proceeded to unload their camping gear on the other side across from where the guys had already set up their camp. The interlopers had every right to be there, but the guys hooted and hollered and tried to be as obnoxious as they could so the couples might decide to find another campsite.

        The tactics didn't work and the young couples continued to set up their campsite.  Even when Tom stripped down to his skinny-assed nakedness and began howling like a lunatic, the couples barely paid attention.  That's when Fred, who was known for being very practical though not for always having the best judgment, disappeared into his tent and then reemerged with a pistol in his hand.  No one had known that Fred had the gun with him.  Perhaps he was scared of more threatening types than these students or maybe he'd brought it just in case there were any dangerous critters, but now he had it merely to scare off these unwelcome intruders.

        Needless to say Fred's ploy worked.  Brandishing the weapon accompanied by some intimidating words, Fred was successful in changing the students' minds and they quickly packed up their gear and were gone.  They guys were a bit flabbergasted by Fred's display, but relieved that they once again had the cove to themselves and resumed their revelries.

         What they didn't expect was the students having reported the incident to the cops.  They didn't even realize that the sheriff's department had a boat that they used to cruise the lake, but when they saw the boat approaching they could tell it was the police.  Fred retreated into his tent.  

           The other guys tried to act innocent when the deputies arrived, but the officers had a description of the culprit and insisted on checking the tents.  Soon they had Fred in tow with the pistol they had confiscated from him.  The guys watched wide-eyed as the Sheriff's Department boat recrossed the lake with Fred in their custody.

            Later Fred would tell the story about being taken to the Monroe County Jail.  He was under the influence of several substances and it took a few hours to become sober.  Being in the jail and getting processed for offenses that would end up costing him a good bit of money was a very unpleasant experience for him.   Likewise, the jail cell and the cot that he had to sleep on were very uncomfortable.

            However, he told about someone bringing him a baloney sandwich.   Fred hadn't eaten since breakfast and this sandwich was a truly welcome sight.   He described the sandwich in detail and how it was uniquely unlike any other baloney sandwich that he had ever eaten in his entire life.  To hear him describe the sandwich would make one wish they too could have a baloney sandwich just like the one the Fred had eaten on that evening in that jail cell.

            When telling this story, with the greatest gravity and intensity Fred would proclaim, "That was the best damn baloney sandwich I ever ate in my whole life."

            That's exactly what he would say and anyone hearing him say it would believe it to be the absolute truth.

      
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The Chilhowee Grave Robbery

          Before I moved to Tennessee and my family lived in Northern Indiana in the mid 1960s, my father began taking us on "camping trips".  He called it camping but it was really staying in a commercial campground in our 17 foot travel trailer.  We basically had most of the comforts of home shrunken down to a cramped area smaller than our living room.   My parents and four brothers and sisters would pile in the trailer to sleep at night, but eating and recreation was all outdoors.  Voila!  We were camping.

        Then in the summer of 1966 the family headed down to Maryville, Tennessee to see if we wanted my father to accept an offer to relocate with the company for which he worked.  We settled our trailer in a semi-rural mobile home park, looking to all of the permanent residents of the park like itinerant gypsies emerging and re-entering a clown car at a circus.  Having fallen in love with East Tennessee, we lived in this park until September when we finally bought a house.  We still kind of thought ourselves as having been camping during that summer, but since East Tennessee is a sort of mecca of camping and other outdoor activities I eventually discovered real camping.

       Toward the end of my senior year of high school, I went on my first camping trip where I slept in a tent.  It was 1969.  I was invited by my friend Bob, who was a member of the football team.  Bob and I had met during that summer of 1966 when my family was living in the mobile park.  Bob's family lived in a house near the park and as things would turn out, he would be attending the same school where I would be going even though our new house was several miles from where his family lived.  In high school, Bob and I remained friends, though we did not really hang out together much.  For that matter I was a loner and didn't hang out much with anyone.

         In the last month of our senior year, Bob invited me to go camping out at Chilhowee Lake.  He was going with Don, another member of the football team, and George, the sole male member of the cheerleading squad--probably one of the few male high school cheerleaders in East Tennessee at that time.  I did not really know Don, but George was one of my sister's best friends so I knew him through her.  I eagerly accepted Bob's invitation and on that weekend he picked me up in his black '65 Mustang and we met up with Don and George out at Chilhowee Lake.

        Chilhowee lake is formed by Chilhowee Dam, which is part of the Tennessee Valley Authority flood control system.   The dam was built and is operated by Aluminum Company of America (ALCOA) to generate hydroelectric power for the company which is located next to Maryville in the city of Alcoa.  The lake is situated between the Great Smoky National Park and Cherokee National Forest. There were not really official campgrounds along the Maryville side of the lake, but many people would set up campsites in the parking pull-offs along the lake.  I don't believe camping is allowed now, but back in the 60s no one said anything about it.  The lake was a popular place to go to camp, party, and drink beer at night, and swim, fish, boat, and water-ski in the daytime.  Once the weather started warming up, weekends at the lake were hopping.

          We set up camp next to the bridge crossing Abram's Creek where it empties into the lake.  There were no other campers nearby as apparently the really busy summer season had not yet commenced.  None of us were beer drinkers so we were there for good clean fun--an evening of sitting around a fire and joking and telling stories.  Once darkness settled upon us we began gravitating toward ghost tales and other scary stories.  Back then I used to like to say that I wished I would see something so scary that it would turn my hair permanently white.  Of course now I can no longer say that because what little hair I have left is already white and that didn't happen in one sudden scary moment.

           On previous visits, Bob and I had found a trail near our campsite that led a short distance up the side of the mountain to an old graveyard.  The trail was unmarked and probably few visitors went to this graveyard even though it was probably less than a hundred yards from the highway.  The crudely handmade grave markers had dates from the mid 1800's and were undoubtedly the resting places of some of the first white settlers of that area, which had once been the site of  large Creek and, later, Cherokee Indian towns.  It is a very historical area which lends itself well to ghost stories.

          Our conversations eventually came around to this graveyard.  We began to speculate what one could find digging up the old graves.  The bodies would have been long gone except for some skeletal remains, but there was the prospect of finding old buttons, coins, or other items that would survive that long.  We didn't have shovels or any digging tools so we weren't about to go dig up any graves, but the eerie thrill of walking up in the darkness to where the graves were began to entice us.  We decided to take our flashlights and walk up to the site just in case we might see something truly terrifying.

          There was enough night light to see as we walked the short distance up the highway to where the trail began.  We did not want to call attention to ourselves by using the flashlights. Our quiet chatter might have carried across the span of the lake, but no one would be able to tell what we were up to.   Once we got onto the trail and entered the trees, the almost absolute darkness required using our lights.  We stayed close together as we made our way up the trail.  Then we came to the old stones.

           Our lights passed over the faces of the grave markers as we read the names and studied the dates. Trees towered all around us and we were surrounded by an intense darkness.  Although the night was warm, one could not help feeling a chill here.  We pondered about the inhabitants of these graves and took a special interest in one grave of a very young child.  Then someone made the suggestion--I swear it wasn't I--to remove one of the markers and take it with us.  I tried to dissuade them from doing it, but then George wriggled the marker from the ground and took it.  The stone was fairly thin and was not too heavy-- maybe forty pounds or so.   George carried his trophy back to camp and I was sure we would get arrested that night.

         George, Don, and Bob had the coolest teacher of senior English, Mr. Williams.  He was apparently fascinated by the supernatural and the other guys thought it would be a great prank to leave the grave marker outside Mr. Williams' apartment door to freak him out.  After our camping weekend, George and Don made a stop on their way home and followed through with that plan.  Mr. Williams was not scared or amused, but he was very angry.  He undoubtedly was aware that what they had done was probably criminal in nature.  It did not take long for Mr. Williams to find out who was responsible.  He let George and Don know that if the grave marker wasn't returned immediately they might not pass senior English and would not be able to graduate.

         I was not with George and Don when they returned the marker so I can't say for sure if they did put it exactly where they found it.   A few times over the next few years I went back to revisit the graveyard.  Each time it looked like there were less stones or some had been broken. It even looked like some graves had been tampered with--perhaps by someone looking for artifacts.  I have not been back to that graveyard in about thirty five years.

        Bob and I remain friends to this day.  I talk to him on the phone every few months and usually see him when I visit Maryville at Christmas.   Don eventually moved to Nashville, but it seems I heard recently that he was back in Maryville.   Either way, I never saw him again after graduation.   Likewise it was several years before I saw George again.  The last time I saw George was at my wedding to my second wife in 1982.  George, the one who took the grave marker, had moved to California where he had come out of the closet and was leading quite the gay lifestyle.  None of us ever suspected, although the cheerleading thing might have been a suggestion.  To us George was just a fun guy who was just a tad effeminate, but we really didn't think too much about it.  When he came to the wedding he was dressed in a tight fitting leather outfit that looked rather stylish for what it was.  I didn't talk to him.   I actually didn't even know who he was.  My sister told me later on that it was George and she filled me in on all of the history that she had learned about him.   A few years later I learned that George had died from AIDS.

         Have you ever been to Chilhowee Lake?   Do you like to go camping?   Do you have any graveyard prank stories to relate?