The Rivers Sing Stories of the Mystical Coast

Mountain waters,

Cascade downhill,

Rivers rising,

As waters refill.

Where river and sea,

Are woven together,

Nature surprises,

With changes of weather.

In watery depths,

The salmon glide,

In emerald forests,

Through rivers wide.

Labyrinths of the wild,

Nature entwined,

River’s stories,

Beyond time and mind. 



By the River Otter Poet

In the year 1898 the Mystical Coast sang with stories of the intertwined lives of the people, wildlife, and nature.

They lived in a world of the flowing labyrinths of the waterways created by rivers and streams winding through the mountains and forests down to the sea.

Lost on the Mystical Coast at the River Otter Shipwreck -

The wood tiller, attached to the rudder steering the sailboat, broke with a loud moan and snap, leaving twelve-year-old Elsie with the cracked wood in her hand.

The rudder, steering the boat below the water at the boat’s stern, swung sharply. The sails of the River Otter were caught and slammed by the wind.

Elsie tumbled across the deck and heard the masts crack in the hurricane-force wind, breaking, and carrying the sails as they crashed to the deck.

They were lost in the river's labyrinth of tributaries and they had a broken boat.

Elsie thought of sitting in the warm safety of the lighthouse keeper's house and wished she was home.

Her friend, Erik, realized he would not get to his new job at the dairy farm on the river that day.

Knut, knowing he was in charge, felt responsible and realized he should have been watching the weather for changes. After a lifetime of voyages on the seas to distant ports, he had underestimated the Mystical Coast and her quick changes of weather.

Below the hull of the River Otter, the salmon slipped silently through the depths of the water on their Autumn journey upriver to lay their eggs.

From a place in the shallows a blue heron stood on legs like stilts, watching the boat.

The mountains, fir forest and Maple trees next to the river were nestled in the incoming fog.

The day had begun so differently for Elsie, but she was used to experiencing the unexpected while living on the Mystical Coast.

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The Waterways and People of the Mystical Coast -

It was 1898 in the coastal wilderness when Elsie and the others set out from the village on a clear Autumn day in the River Otter sailboat, heading upstream.

There were no roads to the remote village on the river. Building roads in the steep mountains was too difficult.

It was a world full of waterways for travel. Everyone used boats. Instead of roads people used the rivers and their tributaries.

People also rode horses on the trails and hard, wet sand of the beaches at low tide. Everyone learned quickly how to ride and use boats in order to survive.

When the heavy rains slowed during summer they used horse pulled wagons. During the rainy season the wheels got stuck in the mud so they rode horses then and used packhorses to transport supplies.

It was a dense rainforest with enormous fir trees and steep mountains in a temperate climate, green, wet, and cool.

Elsie was in the boat with her brothers, several friends, and a wise sailing mentor named Knut from the village.

Knut was skilled in the lore of the Mystical Coast and its seas and waterways.

He sometimes missed the days when he was a heroic sailor, exploring across the oceans, and achieving speedy passages on the sailing ships due to his skill. It was a life he loved and missed. But his sage advice was valued in the small village of 300 in 1898 on the river.

Now the sailboat called River Otter was in a tributary of a river fork running through a valley between sharp inclines of fir trees and rocks in the mountains.

The sailboat jolted when the fixed keel centerboard, protruding from the bottom of the boat to stabilize it, hit the river bottom. They were stuck.

Adrenalin surging, Knut leaped up and jumped toward the stern, his long white beard flying. He was a seafaring man, with decades of sailing to the spice islands on windjammers and clipper ships. Knut saw instantly what had happened. The others were inexperienced teenagers except for Elsie who was younger. 

Steep mountains blanketed with fir trees held ravines and valleys full of winding rivers and streams. Wide beaches and towering sand dunes, interrupted with volcanic rocks and cliffs lined the shores.

A moment before this the river was smooth and quiet. They did not see the black water with the white froth of the storm squall gust coming from behind them because they were dozing on the sunny deck.

When they gave Elsie a turn driving the boat the river was singing its peaceful whisper of wavelets. Now they looked around and did not recognize these shores, finding they were lost in a sudden coastal storm.

They were on their way to take Erik to the homestead of Louis and Abigail Potter. Erik was seeking work as a farm hand on their dairy farm. The boat on its return would carry cans of milk and barrels of butter from the farm to trade for other supplies.

Louis and Abigail Potter lived in a house in the river floodplain where the rich soil grew tasty grass for their herd of dairy cattle.

Their house was on stilts and they kept a rowboat on the porch for use during winter floods. Sometimes in winter the rain and high tides raised river level so high the water burst over the banks and across the farmland.

The Mystical Coast had many sides to her personality. People living there knew tranquil moments could change in an instant. The breath of her wind would whip the water and her wisps of dense fog would blow in pile up over the rivers, valleys and mountains. 

The 32 foot sailboat was shaped like the salmon swimming below it in the river, long and smooth, fast and agile.

With a high tide ocean current flowing into the river the water level was lifted to its highest along the banks and over the sandbars. The power of the current carried boats, floating logs and leaves.

Later when the river was at low tide the current would flow towards the sea.

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The Seasoned Sailor Takes Over -

“Help me lift these broken masts and move these sails to the side. The keel is stuck on the shallows.” Knut’s voice was deep and rough. It was a contrast to his small but wiry frame.

Edward, Samuel and Erik reached around one of the thick wood poles and slid it with the torn sails. Elsie scrambled to gather the fabric and pull it over to the railing of the boat.

“Where are we? Does anybody know?” Edward did not recognize any landmarks.

“We’ve left the estuary and we’re in a tributary stream somewhere,” said Knut.

The wood of the River Otter groaned and creaked while the boat strained against the river currents and the muddy shallows holding its fixed keel.

“We’ll need to free the keel from the bottom and use the oars to pole our way back to the main estuary. We can’t walk because this dense growth is impossible to get through. It is drizzling and too wet to build a fire. We would need to hack our way with a machete every step.” Knut’s voice was serious and calm. He had been through worse times and survived. They would get through this.

To Knut it was a matter of perspective. This was a minor inconvenience compared to his previous harrowing times on the stormy seas. 

The storm squall settled into a light rain.

“Last year the rain barrel showed 83 inches of rain in 12 months. Looks like this year is starting strong.” Knut felt the raindrops hitting the top of his head with wet plops. 

“We have a few hours of daylight left but I don’t think we can get out of here until tomorrow. Another high tide will lift the boat keel off the shallows.” Knut scanned the sky.

“Let’s tie the boat to that tree so it doesn’t drift away during a high tide until we are ready. Then we can get ready to spend the night on the boat and pole our way out of here tomorrow.” Knut’s reasoning made sense.

Their parents were expecting them to spend the night at the dairy farm so no one would miss them.

“If we get back to the main river tomorrow we might be able to find a fisherman or someone going by in a boat.”

Edward waded in the muddy shallows to a sturdy tree and tied the mooring line around it. Then they got out their dried fish, bread, canned goods, and drinking water. Removing some of the sails from the masts and booms, they used them as blankets and huddled together in the storage below the deck. It was damp and cold but they warmed up as they moved closer together. Their faces were tense and anxious.

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The River's Story -

Knut looked at the tense faces and the habits of a lifetime at sea inspired him to start storytelling. What other way to pass the hours while waiting and calm themselves.

“Listen and you can hear the river tell its story.”

Knut’s voice was rhythmic and soft from practice. He knew how to sooth and quiet the crew members on ships while they waited out raging storms. Now he reached deep within for his gift. 

Elsie slowed her breathing and she heard the sounds of the breeze ruffling the wavelets. Visions and images floated through her mind.

“The river’s voice speaks and the fish, the trees and the wild animals listen. The winds and the water, the sky, the fog, the mists, all are part of the river’s story. Hear the story in the rhythms of the waves…they whisper and ripple.”

“Beneath the boats, the salmon soar and fly as free as birds but in a watery world. They see the wooden planks and fixed keel of the River Otter overhead in the surface ripples of the water and the blurry sights above.”

“In Autumn the mature salmon swim upriver to lay their eggs and when those hatch the baby salmon swim back to the sea for their long journey in the ocean. They have a purpose and a direction, led by instincts deep within them. In the velvety waters they grow and swim together, becoming larger and stronger.”

“They know where they are going. They never get lost. They rely on instincts, like an inner compass…. on their senses and observations.”

“Are you talking about the salmon or about us?” Edwards voice came out of the dim light below the deck.

“Just listen, young man, to the stories the river and the salmon tell us,” came Knut’s voice.

“The seasons change and the salmon change too. The tiny ones that swam through the waterways out to the seas learn the ways of the world beneath the waves, the air and sky. They swim deeper and deeper, feeling their instincts and senses.”

“Slowly something draws them back to the coastal waterways where they were born. Fast, strong and sleek they swim and leap while they travel on the rivers and streams inland. Above them, eagles, ospreys and cormorants dive from the sky to fish but the salmon try to swim deeper in the water.”

“Along the shores the egrets and blue herons stand motionless on their stilt legs, waiting for a fish to swim into their range, then darting like a shot to grab the fish. Black Bears wade into the shallows in the Autumn and their huge paws come up with salmon, and they put on weight to prepare for the winter hibernation.”

Elsie, Emma, and the others began to forget their circumstances and images of the river life floated in their minds. Knut saw their faces relaxing and he knew the spell of the stories was taking them away from their cares. 

His voice grew softer and slower.

“The river of life takes us on journeys with many experiences. By day and by night, in sun and in rain or fog, the waters of the river of life keep flowing.”

“You have a direction and a purpose deep inside. Listen to the river. Listen to the waterways.”

Knut’s voice trailed off. The rain pattered above on the deck. There was quiet breathing coming from the group. From the fir trees came the hooting of an owl, undeterred from night hunting by the light sprinkle of raindrops.

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An Unexpected Rescue -

Night passed quietly and the calls and warbles of birds woke the group early. The storm had passed and the sky was clear again. In the east the first dawn light painted the sky with spreading puddles of pink, orange, red and purple.

Elsie faintly remembered sweet dreams of a watery world and she felt well rested.

Sunrise came fast and the group pushed aside their blankets made of sails, grabbed drinking water and food from the supplies, and went up on deck to check their situation.

The boat was in a curving water channel that wound like a snake. Tall grasses lined the shore. Towering fir trees were mingled with blazes of color from Maple trees in their Autumn oranges and reds.

“Watch the direction of the leaves on the water,” said Knut. “The tide is rising. I’ll untie the boat from the tree.  Get ready to float off this mud bar. Take the oars and broken wood from the masts. Start poling the boat to the center of the water channel, where the deep water will let us float without the fixed keel hitting the bottom.”

“Hello there,” came a call from the forest.

Elsie looked and she saw several people with fishing poles come out of the trees.

“What are you doing here?” Someone called.

There were several young people, and two men and a woman.

“Who are you?” Knut’s voice was cautious.

“We have a homestead back in there.” One of the boys waved toward the forest.

“What happened here?” One of the girls asked.

Knut gave an explanation. 

“We can drag your boat out of here with our rowboat. We use it to get supplies. It’s back there in the weeds. Let’s go get it.” The boy’s voice was friendly.

They removed the flopping rudder from the River Otter and tied the bowline to the stern of the large rowboat.

The rising tide lifted the water level, and Edward and Erik use oars to push the River Otter off the mudbank. The rowboat with its rows of seats and strong oarsmen dragged the River Otter behind it.

In half an hour they reached the wide expanse of the main Mystic River, despite rowing against the tidal current. There they pulled the River Otter over to a narrow island in the center of the river, where they landed the rowboat on the shore and let the River Otter float at the end of the long bowline.

“We’ve got about six hours until the low tide starts. Then we can float with the currents to the west and it is only a few miles to the village. If we try to row against the high tide current right now it will be too difficult."

" After we get there you can hitch the rowboat up to the steam powered sidewheeler that goes inland on the river so it can pull you back up here.”

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Elsie Listens for the River's Story Again -

Elsie and the others settled again on the deck of the sailboat. The white morning light was silvery on the river and a warm sun turned the day into summer. The group watched the western sky, aware the weather could quickly turn into winter the way it did the previous day.

Later that day, they arrived back at the rustic hand-hewn wharf of the village.

Elsie’s parents, Joseph and Jeannie, saw the boats approaching. The broken masts and torn sails told them what had happened.

“Is everyone alright?” Jeaannie’s eyes looked at the group, checking for injuries.

Deep below the River Otter, in the silken waters near the river bottom, the salmon glided by, driven by instinct on their swim upriver.

“We’re fine. We were lost. And …and.” Elsie struggled to explain the salmon, the leaves floating, Knut’s storytelling, and something about instincts, purpose, and direction…We heard the stories that the river tells last night.” Elsie’s voice was excited. 

Jeannie smiled. She understood.

 The light breeze ruffled the top of the river and the wavelets flowed and murmured.

No one else noticed, but Elsie could hear the river start to tell another story.