Hang Up

When I was growing up in Valsetz, Oregon during the 1960s and 1970s I had no idea at the time how lucky I was. Like most pre-teens and teenagers I remember groaning with my friends how boring it was in Valsetz. How there wasn’t anything to do and how unfortunate we all were for being trapped forty-miles from civilization. We thought of ourselves as living at the end of the world.

Valsetz did not have a movie theater; there was no mall to hangout in after school. There were no video arcades or nowhere that resembled a place where civilized people would hangout; especially teenagers. All we had was a two-lane bowling alley that was most often occupied by the balding, beer-bellied types with their “big hair” ladies in tow. We made efforts to hangout in the café, which we all referred to as the “Rec Hall”. The patience of those who worked at the Rec Hall ran thin after awhile and we were encouraged to go elsewhere.

We had the school yard to hangout at, where it was common to find a couple of basketball games underway on the blacktop or a tennis match at the one court facility. When it was raining and it often rained in Valsetz, the principal of the high school would unlock the gym on the weekends so those of us who lived to be in the NBA one day, could work on our hard court skills. Or turn the gym lights off and swap spit with a few girls you were fancying at the time. If the gym was closed and there was no basketball or tennis being played you could play a game of “touch-that-turned-to-all-out-tackle” football on the lawn in front of the high school. The fact was there was plenty to do but we were the usual kids who didn’t notice the real wealth we were blessed with at the time. As a parent today, I wish my kids had as boring of a place to grow up.

Valsetz was not the type of place people locked their front doors. It was a place that kids and their dogs roamed the dirt streets and wooden sidewalks without a leash or a curfew. It was the type of town where everyone knew everybody and everybody’s dog’s name and more often then not you knew everybody’s middle name as well. Valsetz was such a small, closely-knit town, I can remember what brands of cigarettes the other parents smoked when I was a kid and they were still alive.

Without all the modern conveniences kids have today to assist in their enjoyment, kids in Valsetz were left with their imaginations and bicycles. During the summer months we would ride our bicycles a short way out of town, where several friends and myself had stowed away inflated logging-truck inner-tubes for floating down the Siletz River. We would pack a lunch, take our poles and fishing gear and head for the inner-tubes as soon as we were up and out of the house. We would then hide our bikes where the tubes were hidden and float several miles down the river to the “Hang-up” hole. As we floated we would discuss the current Oakland A’s dynasty or how well our favorite teams would fair in the upcoming NFL football season. We would argue what was better for catching trout; live bait or lures; Metrics or Rooster-tails; eggs or okie-drifters. Essentially we discussed the important things in life. On occasion the subject of girls would come up but it would usually be drowned out by giggles and inappropriate topics of fantasy. Since none of us were experienced with the opposite sex in anything more then our crude fantasies and our sterile imaginations and a few spit swapping sessions we quickly ran out of pertinent things to say about girls and we would then move our discussions back to the importance of a good quarterback or if the designated-hitter rule would eventually be the demise of major league baseball.

The “Hang up” hole was named for the way the river would treat angler’s bait. The hole was located below where Gravel Creek dumped into the Siletz and filled the rapids with loose gravel which gave the rapids a washboard appearance. The river would continue to roll from Gravel Creek then around a large bend and then into the twenty plus foot hole the locals called the “Hang up”. The “Hang up” hole was paralleled on one side with a forty-foot bank where the dirt road was located and on the other side laid a gravel mounded beach. Between the road and the town’s favorite watering hole were at least ten boulders larger then a two-story house that were perfect for diving. In the middle of the swimming hole sat a haystack looking rock we all would immediately swim to after we initially hit the water. It was the best place to sit and observe the action on the bank and in the surrounding water. Just on the other side of the boulders the river took a sharp bend and left a large area where a hundred or more people could set up their grills, throw out there blankets and lawn chairs and begin cooling down for the evening.

We would swim and play on the banks and the large boulders until the mill in town would let out the dayshift and the banks of the “Hang up” would quickly fill up with tired and hard working adults armed with their cold beer and soda, small bar-be-que grills accompanied with their families. Since there was no one in Valsetz with an air conditioner this was the townsfolk’s only means for cooling down from the hot and dusty day.

The particular day that comes to mind for me took place in the summer of ’72 when I was only twelve years old. It was a warm and fairly uneventful day. But it was a day that has had a profound impact on the way I look at life from that day on. More importantly it affected the way I accept people’s differences and attempt to find the beauty in all situations.

Friendly, Bean, Clarence and I had planned a float trip the night before as we slept in my backyard fort. It had been unusually hot that summer forcing us to take advantage of our inner-tubes more then we had in previous summers. On this day we started out around nine o’clock in the morning with a day’s worth of peanut butter and honey sandwiches, apples and sacks of penny candy all tied tightly in plastic bread sacks.

On this morning our goal was to make the float quicker then most trips so we left our poles behind but assured ourselves we would keep our eyes open for snagged lures but nothing else. It was a rule back then when you floated the Siletz. Keep your eyes peeled for shinny metallic reflections in the water. These reflections more often then not were treasures of lost lures that we could refill our tackle boxes.
The float went well as far as we were concerned. We had spotted and retrieved several lures that day. If I remember right Clarence and Bean had had the best day of the summer that day due to their big finds. Clarence, which was a nickname given to him because he resembled the lion on the TV series, Daktari. To further the cat resemblance Clarence passionately spoke with pauses that sounded like a cat clearing a fur ball from his throat then he would inhale with a sloshing sound of air and saliva rushing back to replace the fur ball. When it came to everything Valsetz, the Minnesota Vikings, fishing and hunting Clarence was a debate master. Even if he didn’t have the facts he had the passion to back down most start up debaters, surely the novices were to be shelved. I suspect many debaters ceded to him in order to avoid a shower of saliva.

Bean on the other hand was the most confident person I had met in those days. Besides being the best athlete who was faster, stronger and taller then any of us he also had the looks. Most of the girls our age at the time melted when Bean was present. Later when we were in high school many single and married women made time for Bean to be their pleasure but that’s another story. It was rumored around town that Bean and his family were fair skinned Blacks. Since there were no black people in Valsetz at that time or any time in the future and that Bean’s family had moved to Valsetz from a southern state it was enough to convict. The suspicion was further solidified because of the physical features that Bean possessed. Large lips, broad nose, body structure which gave him athletic superiority along with what attracted some of the aforementioned ladies; we were all convinced of Bean’s ethnicity. We just rarely shared it with him for fear of a good ass-kicking.

The two Clarence and Bean had been arguing all day because that was what the two did; each solicitating support from Friendly and me. Friendly and I kept the humor rolling and they argued. Sometimes I think they took the opposing view on a topic just to rile the other. Whenever a question that required an opinion was put forth you could bet your pump BB-gun they would disagree with each other. This day they were arguing politics of all things. A topic so foreign to the four of us it’s hard to imagine where it came from. It was obvious they were only reciting the opinions of their fathers that day because none of us really knew the difference between George McGovern and Richard Nixon and I can assure you none of really cared, not at twelve years old we didn’t. Politics and news were interruptions to something better on TV as far as we were concern. The only thing we knew about Viet Nam was that Clarence and Beans older brothers were there as was my Uncle Timmy. We knew there were people by the name, Cong, who were the “bad guys” and our country was there to make them leave the “good guys” alone.

Friendly, who was aptly named for the ever present grin on his face and his approach to the world of never meeting a stranger or someone he didn’t like was on his game that day. Every time the debate between Bean and Clarence treaded close to over heating Friendly would get us all focusing on another “traveling salesman” joke or he would begin to mimic one of the many comical characters of our town.
After a few hours of floating, diving for lures, eating too much candy and soaking in the warm sun we approached the “Hang up”. As we floated around the bend between Gravel Creek and the Hang up we noticed a yellow bread truck with the company named crudely blacked out with black paint parked on the road above the "Hang up". Neither of us recognized the vehicle as belonging to anyone from Valsetz. So we pulled up shy of the "Hang up" and decided to proceed cautiously. We pulled our inner-tubes up on the gravel shore keeping our heads lower then the apex of the shore in order to get a view of who was using the "Hang up" as we concealed ourselves. Lying on the hot river rocks that have been carried from the mountains over the last thousands of years that surround the river valley, we gradually lifted our heads ever so slowly as not to draw attention to us, and we caught the sight of a young man standing on the haystack rock in the middle of the "Hang up". With his back to us and his hair hanging down to his naked butt, at first we thought it was a woman. He was standing on the rock completely naked laughingly talking to someone on the other side of the river we could not see. He then lifted his arms out to his side as if to be crucified and with slow and precise movements jumped into the air then seemingly he stopped in mid-air, made his final downward adjustment and enters the water leaving little of a ripple. From the area of the bank we couldn’t see, we could hear a small commotion of cheers and clapping. And we could smell smoke, a sweet smelling smoke none of us could identify. The naked man resurfaced and flipped his hair out of his face. He let out a laugh and mentioned how good and cold the water felt and encouraged who ever he was talking to, to join him. At that time two naked women came running from the blind area and dove into the water and swam out to nude stranger.

Clarence immediately went into survival mode and gathered us into a huddle. “It’s a bunch of hippies”. He sprayed out with a look of confusion on his face. “They’re naked. They are skinny-dipping in our hole.” He continued with his mixture of tirade and curiosity. “We’ve gotta tell ‘em they can’t be here”.

Bean at the time was crawling back up the gravel mound to either come up with a plan or to get a better look at the sirens who had laid claim to our swimming hole. Friendly and I made efforts to convince Clarence that we needed to proceed with caution and with any luck we could get a closer look. Clarence suggested we could bomb them with rocks and hopefully drive them to their converted bread truck on the road above. Wisely we squelched that idea and suggested that Friendly and I would continue to float into the "Hang up" and see if they were friendlies. Bean supported our approach at the descent of Clarence. Being as democratic as we could, we made the decision to leave Clarence with his rocks as the three of us went in as a peace party. Clarence threw the rock attack aside and re-entered the water with us but ever so reluctantly. “What if they rape us or get us hooked on drugs?” was all Clarence’s could spray, as we all shoved off from the shore and descended into the Hang up. Bean made the comment, “We couldn’t be so lucky”.

We floated into the middle of the "Hang up" before we made eye contact with the three naked intruders. The three were now sitting on the opposite shore where a small sand pile had accumulated over the years; they were basking in the sun and smoking what smelled like sweet rope. The two girls noticed us first and let out a welcoming “Hello” with a slight wave of their hands. “Look Evan, travelers”, the two girls said to the man as they pointed us out. Evan, stood up and welcomed us over with a greeting of,”Hey, strangers” and his broad smile.

We paddled our inner-tubes up to the sand bank with hesitation and a slight feeling of embarrassment. Up until this moment I had never seen a naked woman in my whole life. Now in front of me were two of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen and they were completely exposed. I could hear Bean mumble a few thanks to God as we neared the skinny-dipping goddesses and their man Evan. Friendly’s smile only broadened and his stare never phased. Clarence was not at ease one bit.

“Who are you guys? Are you mountain Pirates?” Evan asked us.

“No, we live in town,” Clarence sloshed out. “This is the town’s swimming hole”. He informed them as we all tried to give the impression he did not speak for our contingent.

“Cool” was Evan’s response in a quiet and calming manner. “You Pirates like a bite?” He asked as he pointed toward a wicker picnic basket. “We have some fruit and bread”.

“We already have a lunch”, Clarence responded as he pointed to the small inner-tube we use to pull our supplies in.

Bean who was raised to always be polite and never turn don a free meal, “What kind of fruit do you have?”

Evan invited us to stay and share in their lunch. The two girls introduced themselves as Rain and Rachel. Rain was the shorter of the two. She had long thick curly blonde hair that ran down the back of her to her slightly plump naked bottom. Her breast were larger and whiter then Rachel’s and looked as if she had not exposed them to sun too often. Her demeanor was relaxed even though she stood before us without any effort to conceal herself. Rain was far more talkative then Rachel but as sweet.

Rachel was an angel. It was obvious to me that God had sent a creature of perfection to the Hang up. She was slightly taller then Rain and more slender. Her auburn hair was straight and parted in the middle. It poured down over her shoulders over one breast and the remaining mane cascaded down her smooth back to her petite bottom. Rachel’s smile infectiously brought your eyes back to her delicate face where her green eyes kept you hypnotized with her beauty. I had feelings of confusion within me as I calmly took in what was happening. I felt as if we were breaking some type of law or rule. But I also felt this was where God wanted me to be at that very moment. On one hand I felt that we were intruding, on the other I knew we were well received guest.

After we ate papayas, mangoes and a few other fruits that were completely foreign to the four of us Evan and Rain invited us for a swim. Bean and I instantly dropped our already soaked cut-offs and headed for the water. Friendly and Clarence refused the invite. I was nearly to the haystack rock when it sunk in that I had no business exposing myself to these girls and had no manly means to equate myself with men like Evan. What the hell does it matter I was skinny dipping with a goddess? But they could see me and I had no place to hide.

We climbed the rocks, showed off our patented dives to our new friends that we had perfected over the years of swimming at the Hang up. Evan laughed, swam and dove as well. Rain and Rachel spent most of their time in the water swimming gracefully as to show they had no primal need to prove anything.

We all then sat on the bank drying off in the sun. Evan and Rain asked questions about us and the town and told us they were from California and were traveling to Alaska in their van. And Rachel was hitching a ride to Seattle with them to go and see her grandparents. They told us they had stayed in a County Park along the Siletz the night before and decided to follow the gravel road along the river to see where it took them. They were convinced they had found heaven on Earth and were amazed anyone actually lived out in the bushes like this least not a whole town of folks.

Friendly and Clarence never brought themselves to drop their britches for a swim, they did become more relaxed and contributed more to the conversation. Friendly kept his smile broad and his eyes peeled on Rachel most of the time. Clarence kept his conversation in the mode of an interrogation. It was as if he was taking mental notes so he could report the hippies to the authorities. On the outside he played it as he was just a laid back kind of dude, but knowing him, we all knew he was preparing plausible deniability for himself and already had Bean and myself convicted.

As the breeze picked up and brought more warmth to our nude bodies we mentioned to the free spirited trio that anytime cars and families would be arriving and it might be a good idea to not smoke the stuff they had been smoking when everyone gets here. A little while later the overheated residents of Valsetz began to arrive. And our three new friends wrapped themselves in blankets they had in their basket and gathered their stuff and left in their bread van.

I remember that day many times a year. Often when it is warm or I am swimming in a river. I remember that it was the first time I had ever seen an angel and perfection. I also remember it was the first time I had ever met someone who was so comfortable being themselves. Though completely exposed, never did the trio give the impression that they were vulnerable. Rachel stood naked in front of us and maintained her smile that conveyed beauty and acceptance of the world around her. Rain kept herself as the center of attention and never once ceded to her nakedness. Evan may not have known he was baring himself to anyone. I fell in love with the thought of living so freely, Bean focused the rest of his teen years swimming naked and Clarence and Friendly kept their shorts on.