Little Rivers ( #AtoZChallenge )

There are rivers that are little and there are rivers named Little River.  Little or big, all rivers play an important role in the watersheds they encompass...

 

Little Rivers

Little River in Great Smoky Mountains  (Townsend)

         There are over 20 rivers that I could find listed for the United States with the name Little River as well as scores of rivers with "Little" used as an adjective in the names--quite a few more than rivers with "Big" as a name or adjective.  Maybe it's something to do with the nature of a smaller river as opposed to a larger one.  After all, a name like Mississippi sounds a lot better than just plain old "Big River" (which is what some have called the Mississippi). 

          One of the rivers near me looks little in size as in regard to waterflow, but very wide in respect to the concrete covered river channel--in other words it looks more like a highway than a river.  I'd say most if not all who are reading this have seen the Los Angeles River in movies.  From the giant ants seeking refuge in the river drains in Them! (1954) to teenagers racing cars in Grease (1978) to the car chase in Terminator 2 (1991) and many more, the Los Angeles River has been a frequent setting for all sorts of action scenes in films.  But one driving over this waterway might never guess that it is a river in these areas where it has been paved over.

         In West Virginia one can find the somewhat little Lost River.  This unique 31 mile river is actually part of the  Cacapon River in the Appalachian Mountains.  The portion that is "lost" eventually disappears underground and remerges downstream as the Cacapon,  The Lost River gets its name from the fact that it is what is called a "losing stream" which is a waterway that loses water as it flows downstream.  Most rivers are "gaining streams" because they get bigger.  Where does the water go when it's losing?   It seeps into the water table or disappears into the ground.  

        One of my favorite rivers is the scenic 60 mile Little River in Tennessee.  This river starts in the Great Smoky Mountains and ends up in the Fort Loudon Lake near Rockford.  The Little River in the national park and through the towns of Townsend and Walland is a much used recreation area for those who want to swim, float, or fish.  Back in the early seventies my friend Vernon and I floated down the Little River from Walland to Rockford.  It was a wonderfully relaxing few hours that I wouldn't mind doing again one day.  Maybe someday...

         Do you have a favorite "Little River"?   Which films have you seen that featured a scene set in the Los Angeles River basin?   What is your favorite song by The Little River Band?  

Since I've been reminiscing, here's one you might remember...

Flowing with the Current ( #BOTB Results )

It's usually easier to float with the current than to fight one's way upstream.  Though when things get a bit rough you've got to watch out for those rocks in the river...

Winter visit  to The Sinks on Little River

Flowing with the Current

         When I drive up to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park toward the Townsend Tennessee entrance in the summertime, I will invariably see tubers and rafters floating down the Little River.  A number of tube rental businesses will be found on this stretch of highway leading to the park.  For many, the float experience is a highlight of a summer vacation.

        Drifting downstream is much the way most of us go through life.  We are limited as to our destination as time only goes in one direction for us.  If we try to fight the currents we eventually wear ourselves out into that futile state of resignation or acceptance.  At some point it's time to turn in our rented tubes and get out of the river.

          Years ago--nearly fifty in fact!--my friend Vernon and I floated the Little River, putting in at the old mill dam in Walland which is a few miles downriver from the place where the tube floaters end their river trip.  It was a lazy drift of several miles down the the town of Rockford.  We'd brought lunch since the trip took a number of hours.

         There's a reason the river is called Little River.  Yet there is power in even small things.  We sometimes seem to get swept away by the smallest of influences.  Later we might look back and wonder why we were so impressed by whatever it was that carried us along in its flow.  Mountains from molehills.  Mississippi Rivers from Little Rivers.

         Vernon used to talk about taking a canoe trip from the Little River to the Mississippi River. He had it all mapped out and had done the research.  Along the way he would have to pass through a system of dams and locks.  But he was sure that it could be done and I was convinced.

         He never actually embarked on that great adventure and instead continued to work in the same factory where he ended up retiring after 48 years of faithful employment.  I asked him why he didn't keep working for another couple of years so that he could say that he'd worked at the same place for fifty years.  He just said that it was time to quit.  He was just flowing with the current which is pretty much how I guess my own life has gone.  Not in the same exact way though.  We were floating down different rivers.

         Thinking back on our float trip down Little River I don't remember much other than the peacefulness of being in that quiet small river setting on a hot summer day.  Oh, and the cows.  There were cows at the edge of the riverbank.  Their mouths chewing cuds of disinterest as they watched us float by.

         

Battle of the Bands Results

     
         My latest Battle of the Bands was a tough choice for me.  On one hand I had Van Morrison with "Queen of the Slipstream" from one of my favorite albums by this artist.  This song secures a solid place in my musical memories bringing back sweet memories whenever I hear it.  The song is somewhere in my list of favorites.

        However, the crystalline clarity of the Thompson song is striking to me.  Some of the voters also mentioned the percussion and precise guitar work of "I Ride in Your Slipstream".  This song reminds me of another favorite artist of mine--Bruce Cockburn.

        This is a very close choice for me, but in the end I'm going to opt for the Richard Thompson song given the choice between the two.  And that gives us a squeaker that might have been a tie if not for a final out of the blue vote from "Homely Design Studios".   Anybody know who this is?

        *Flash!!** :  A late vote came in from Susan Kane for Van and now it looks like it is a tie!


Final Vote Tally

Van Morrison                 9 votes

Richard Thompson       9 votes


Next Battle of the Bands on Saturday June 1st

          Since this date is over a week away I might just post something else between then and now.  Then again, I might not.   Since it's a holiday in the U.S. it might not matter.  Whatever the case, be here for whatever happens whenever it happens.

       
           Do you ever go river floating or rafting?   Is your greatest tendency to just go with the flow or to fight against the current?   What is the longest amount of time you've ever stayed in the same workplace (or worked for the same employer)? 

In Earth's Womb

           Not long after I first started attending the University of Tennessee in Knoxville way back in 1969, I became interested in spelunking.  It was my friend Marvin Lowe who first brought the topic up and I'm not sure what got him to thinking about it, but he piqued my curiosity and we both started doing some research into the subject of spelunking.

           Now, let me stop here for anyone who is not familiar with the term and explain what spelunking is. Spelunking is the exploration of caves. The word is derived from "speleology", which is the scientific study of caves and their environments.  Typically cavers such as we were are exploring caves on private lands (preferably with the permission of the landowners) and are amateurishly just looking to satisfy curiosity and seek adventure. 

           We were amateurs, but we weren't totally stupid either.  We did  not want to die, so we did our research.  We checked out books about the topic from the library.  I found a spelunking club at the university and we joined in order to be able to have access to the equipment they had for the use of members.  Through our research we found some caves to begin with and began our explorations.

             One cave that particularly stands out in my memory was an opening in a bluff along the Little River in Walland, TN.  The opening was about four feet tall and about four feet wide.  The passage continued as such for perhaps one hundred feet until it ended at a small room which was about ten feet in diameter and six feet at its highest point.  There smack dab in the center of the room, looking like some sort of miniature shrine, was a small pile of feces.  We did not determine whether it was of human origin or from some other animal, but decided the cave was not worth spending any more time in and proceeded to leave.  Being a couple of college guys, we named this cave "Shit Cave" and it became a source of amusement for us for some time afterwards.  

            Our interest in caving did not last much longer after that.  We went to a couple of commercial caves in the area--Tuckaleechee Caverns, Forbidden Caverns, and The Lost Sea Caverns.  The spelunking adventures for Marvin and I ended and so did our association with the Spelunking Club at the university.

           Then a few years later a revival of caving interest came to me through some of my other friends.  We started out by going to some of the cave openings in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.  Most of them have bars over them and can only be entered with a permit.  Then there is another--Blowhole Cave--which can only be entered with a rope, or a ladder, or by falling in.  Whichever way you enter Blowhole Cave you are still supposed to have a permit.  We would just go to the caves and peer inside as we pondered what it might be like inside them.

          Early in 1975 I moved into a log cabin in the Laurel Valley development in Walland, TN with three of my good friends---Vernon Clouse, Bob Chance, and Wendell Welch.  This development bordered the Great Smoky National Park land.  A short distance from the cabin where we were staying was a trail, an old logging road perhaps, that went to the top of a mountain.  Along the trail there was a sort of rocky place which at the bottom had an opening into the ground.  Some of checked inside this opening and found a narrow passage that led into the earth.  We decided to come back later with flashlights and check it out.

          In other caves it had been at times necessary to crawl on one's hands and knees in some places in order to explore.  This opening was wide but only about twenty inches in height.  One had to crawl into the cave on one's belly or, as was my preference, feet first and on my back.  Either way it was a terrifyingly claustrophobic entrance that went for about thirty feet.  As I proceeded I could hear a sort of distant roar that I soon identified to be the sound of rushing water.  Eventually the passage became higher so that I was able to crawl.  Ahead of us I could see a stream of water coming out of one wall of the cave and as we came to the water I realized that we were at the top of a waterfall that was about twelve feet in height.

          We assessed our situation and determined that we were in a fair sized room the floor of which was sandy and the water seemed to be just eventually filtering into the sand.   We climbed down into this room and looked around to see where we could go from there.  As we stood with our backs to the waterfall, we could see a passageway to our left which we surmised probably continued into the depth of the mountain.

         Since this passage was large enough to enter comfortably, we continued on.  Stooped over, we walked on for quite some distance and as the passage became smaller we continued to crawl on our hands and knees.  We came to a point where the passageway split.  Ahead of us we could see that it was becoming too small for any of us to pass through.  To our left, the passageway continued with dimensions similar to where we were.  We decided to go that way.  It did not go far before the passageway dead-ended in a room that was about fifteen feet in diameter and perhaps five feet high.  The room was unique in that floor was a domelike formation.  We sat on this dome for a while and turned off our lights.

       You have never really experienced absolute darkness and total silence until you have sat in the depth of a cave with lights off and voices quiet.  It is a darkness that you can almost feel touching you, enveloping you, and drawing you into it.  The quiet is so intense that the coursing of your blood becomes a roar and the beat of your heart is like a distant war drum ominously thumping away.  We sat like that for a while, meditating in the darkness, listening, waiting. 

       I guess it became too much for us.  We started talking, joking at first, but then contemplating "what ifs".  What if our lights didn't turn back on-- what would we do?  What if there was some sort of creature down here?  What if there was an earthquake?   We were soon ready to go.  Lights turned back on, we were anxious to be back out of this cave. 

        Later, I think I went back into this cave at least one, maybe two more times.    Some of our other friends who had heard our tale also went at various times.  After my initial visits I no longer had an interest in going back into this cave.   I guess I had started thinking about being in it and it started to scare me.  Years later, sometimes as I was falling to sleep, I would have terrifying dreams about being in the crawlspace cave entrance and being trapped.  I would struggle to wake up and when I did I would often be afraid to go back to sleep for awhile and only succumb when my exhaustion overtook me.  Even now, I rarely have bad dreams, but when I do they usually have to do with that claustrophobic sensation of being trapped in a tight, enclosed space.

        I never did any spelunking after those days in 1975, but since then I have been in many large caverns that are open to the public for guided tours.  If you have never visited a cavern it is really quite an amazing experience.  For those of you in the U.S., I highly recommend the caverns that are part of the National Park Service, such as Carlsbad Caverns or Mammoth Cave.  There are also hundreds of privately operated caverns that are fascinating to see.  Throughout the world are many cavern attractions to visit.  I encourage you to check one out next time you have an opportunity to do so.

          Have you ever gone spelunking on your own?  Would you and if not, why not?  Have you ever been to a cavern attraction?  If so, what was your experience like?