Scaling the Walls of the Penobscot
Hell found me! As I fell into the depths of the cold salty Atlantic water I saw my whole fifteen year life flash before me. I thought about my mother and what she would think. I worried about my diary and what my sister would do with it when she found it. I wondered what my friends Chris and Jackie were doing, and if they would try to save me.
The water swirled around me and everything turned black. The salt tasted metallic in my mouth. I kept sinking further into the depths of the water. I didn’t realize the Penobscot was so deep, then suddenly I felt soft ground. I pushed into the flats upward with my soaked sneakers and immediately began to ascend. I wanted to take a breath. I needed to take a breath. When I slipped it was unexpected, and didn’t take a deep breath as one does before jumping in water. I knew if I gasped for air that my lungs would be filled with water, and I would drown. I couldn’t see the surface and my wet jeans and sweatshirt pulled me down. I didn’t want to die. I was too young to die. I started making deals with God, as we do when things go wrong. “Dear God, please don’t let me die. Please, I promise I’ll never copy homework again. I won’t be mean to my sister. I promise I won’t skip anymore classes. God, please, please, don’t let me drown.”
April showers bring May flowers, and they also bring warm, sunny afternoons, and the itching of spring fever; that equals to a whole bunch of trouble for a few high school kids. After five months of snow, and shoveling snow, and then more snow to shovel, when it reached 45 degrees, that was a celebrated welcome. Basketball was over, and baseball hadn’t really got started so those late afternoon rides home on the activity bus were on temporary hiatus. It was that awkward time of boredom in school, and typical teenage girls and boys look for things to dispel the monotony. The three of us had been best friends since the fifth grade when I moved to town. Based on my experience three friends are a recipe for disaster. Two will get together and talk about the other one, and one will try to vie for another, and it normally turns into a mess.
For Chris, Jackie and I, it was different. Chris wasn’t into the girlie things that Jackie and I talked about. He just wanted to be our friend, and that was good enough for us. We liked that Chris acted as our bodyguard per say, and he always let me copy his math homework. He was wicked smart. It is all different now with the technology and social media available to occupy a bored teen-ager.
Back in 1980 none of us owned a computer; let alone a smart phone. (Our parents would never have tolerated us playing video games or social media forums anyways.) We were lucky to have one color television in the house. If anyone had a cell phone it was one of those monstrosities that came in a bag and needed to have the magnet antennae plunked out on the roof, and then the power cord got plugged into the cigarette lighter. If you were very lucky your parents owned a car that the cigarette lighter worked in, and maybe they let you borrow it with that ugly thing called a car phone. Only some of the preppy kids, and most of the grease monkeys had their own cars.
The three of us were at the mercy of begging our parents ,and more often than not they said ‘no’. Needless to say, most of our entertainment was done by walking or taking our bikes (you know those things that you peddle, and your butt hurts from the uncomfortable seat). Spring fever brought afternoons of cutting classes, and walking the sidewalks trying to stay hidden from friends of our parents who would share the fact that they had seen us on the street, when we should have been in school. We were young, naïve and we had no idea how lucky we were to be young and naïve, until after the thirteenth skip day when our parents were notified by the principal that we were cutting classes. Young people do stupid things, and we were very stupid.
The most significant, as well as the last adventure we took could have been the death of us, or at least, one of us. The three of us decided to cut our “health” class (how ironic now that I reminisce about it) and set out for a quest searching for anything that would be more exciting than sitting in Mr. Kings stinky armpit smelling class room listening to his monotonous voice talk about penises and vaginas. Instead of walking the streets, taking the chance of being spied by a nosy adult, we decided to take the forbidden path just beyond the smoking area out behind Hampden Academy down to the Penobscot River. We were going to hike out to the rocks, do some exploring and maybe find an electric eel in the small pools of water left behind from the tide going out.
The sun was shining and we shed our sweatshirts and tied them around our waists. Jackie took her shoes off for a short time until one of the rocks cut her foot and she put the bloody thing back in her high top Nike sneakers. We searched for cool looking shells with the shiny glitter of embossed quartzite, starfish, crabs and the coveted electric eel. We made our way out across the rocks that went out deep into the smelly flats that were exposed from the tide being out. We were having a splendid afternoon, throwing rocks and mud at each other, talking about the upcoming spring dance and who we thought would go with who and who wouldn’t show up and who we’d like not to have show up. What we weren’t expecting was the tide to rush back in so quickly. One of us couldn’t swim. We had sneakers on and jeans and sweatshirts tied around our waists. Not dressed for rock climbing by any means. When the tide comes in on the Penobscot, the tide comes in fast. It was scary for all three of us but mostly for me.
It was Chris, probably because he was the one who couldn’t swim, who first recognized the fact that our way into land was quickly disappearing. The path out to the rocks that we originally took covered almost immediately with eighteen feet of cold, salty, stinky Atlantic Ocean. We had to scale the rocks fast if we were going to get to land before there was no path back at all. I remember slipping and sliding and cutting our hands on the sharp edges of rocks. The rocks poked out of the dark murky water, some covered in green mossy seaweed while others appeared to be shards of shiny black glass. The most treacherous were the rocks that appeared dry and safe to step on, but our weight triggered them to shift and move causing us to lose our balance more than once. I screamed and as I slipped I heard Jackie and Chris both yell, “Barbie!” The rest was inaudible because I slipped into the depths of the black water. It seemed like a life time that I was under water. It was cold and I could feel my muscles tightening up, and soon I wouldn’t be able to move at all. Abruptly I surfaced and sucked in a huge breath of fresh air. I gagged and spit and clawed my way to the edge. Jackie and Chris dragged me back up on the edge of the rocks. I was shaking from fear more so than the cold, but thankful to be alive.
When we reached the shore line the only way to level ground was up. We climbed through rocks and pulled through trees and brushed past bushes and dug through sod. We climbed and moaned and groaned the whole way. Dry level ground never felt so good. Jackie and Chris ended up with soaked feet, wet jeans and bloody hands. I was grateful to be soaked but alive and safe. Where we came off the rocky walls was a long ways from where we had begun our adventure. The walk back through a field of prickly bushes was not especially a fun experience, and when the giant back yard dog chased us and the owner came out with a shot gun, we were even more anxious to make our way back to school. We were lucky to catch the bus home to Winterport and luckier when our parents said we had to quit cutting school and stay in Mr. King’s classroom. We were just thankful that we could quit trying to scale the banks of the Penobscot River in a pair of Nike’s.