The Storm

“Wow, this looks good, Henry. Thanks for the breakfast!” I blurted out, almost embarrassing myself with youthful glee. “You paid for it, Son, so enjoy it,” he said with a smile. “We’ll be loadin' the gear in the Jon Boat after breakfast. The weather cleared, but the river's still runnin' fast. I have life vests in the boat and grapplin' hooks, and I hope I don’t have to use either on e!” “Me either,” I replied. “You good to go, Son?” "Yes Sir. Good to go!” "What’s this good to go stuff?" I thought. It must be some local term. I grabbed my coat and camera and followed Henry out the back door. There he grabbed an old shotgun leaning against the wall and headed out to a rickety, wooden walkway that led out to the river. When we reached the dock there was an old metal boat straining against the ropes, because of the flow of the river. It was tied off to some upright posts attached to the dock. Pieces of old rope, and some old fishing poles, nets, and line were strewn around the bottom of the boat. “ Jus't push that stuff out'o your way when you get in, Zach. We’ll clean it out later,” Henry called out over the sound of the r ushing water. “Yes Sir!” I responded, with one eye on the river and another on the beat up, dented metal boat. Henry explained to me what the boat was. It was a flat bottom boat that had the common name of Jon Boat and was good for navigation in shallow waters where logs and brush were. It had what he called a “shallow draft.” "Aboat like that," he said, "could navigate through mossy swamp water and over sand bars better than a deep-hulled, V- bottomed boat.” He also explained that a Jon Boat in fast running water would not be as stable as a V-bottom, deep- hulled boat, but that’s all he had and that was our ride. “Get ready for some action, Son, and hang

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