One of my favorite ways to temporarily escape from spraying weeds or picking up propping poles was to head to the river. I don't know how many times a week, every summer, that I would be long gone, with neither Mom or Dad the wiser, because I was sneaking through the neighbors' orchards, climbing trees and avoiding all human contact, in order to get to my remote hide-outs along the banks of The Secret River. I could spend hours out there, off in my own big world, exploring, spying on animals, eating wild grapes, catching lizards, with only Cocoa as my companion. I had more adventures than Huck Finn, but it all started with Dad's help.
One beautiful Saturday morning, Dad, Clay Sanner, one of Clay's friends, and all four boys headed out on a walk down the river. This was a common thing for us to do, but this time of the year was the best because the river was dry, and we could walk along the sandy bed. The river wound around various orchards, providing water for them, and we had access to it at the very end of our road. Most of the river had steep sides, dangerous sides that you avoided when it was full because if you fell in, it would be hard to get out. A dirt road ran alongside it. We walked down this road this one morning, and we got to the farthest stretch of the river that with which we were acquainted. It was here that our walks usually ended. This area ceased to be bordered by the dirt access road; the banks weren't as steep, and they were covered in trees and vegetation. Tule reeds and blackberry bushes were common, and the blackberry plants climbed up the surrounding trees and almost completely removed the river from sight. There was an area of the river about a quarter mile long that was entirely hidden, and this dark, unknown area was designated the Secret River. Dad told me how once, he got out there and there was a mist covering the entrance. As a young boy, my mind was easily captivated by the mystery of it, but I think its fair to say that all four of us boys were drawn to this fantastical place. On this day, our minds were even more excited than usual, having been filled with Clay's Big Foot stories, and as we descended the banks into this forbidden realm, everything took on an ethereal quality: the crunch of the sand underfoot, the morning light piercing the trees, the colors and smells in the cool air... We were adventurers, all of us, exploring a hitherto unknown world, and our excitement would soon prove to be well-founded. As we came around a bend in the river, we saw it. A bridge. An ancient bridge, who knew how old, was stretched across the breadth of the dry river. It was overgrown with plants on each end, and was worn through years of being pushed and pulled by the river's current. On one side was a rough portico, that we called the Secret Door. Dad seemed just as excited as any of us to see it all. It was all probably the project of some teenagers not much older than us, originally, but that day, it was our discovery. Someone had been here, someone before us, and had attempted to introduce some form of civilization in this wild area, and they had failed. We dared not venture up onto the old walkway, and to my knowledge none of us ever tried. In the midst of our amazed pondering, Clay and his friend hissed, "Look up there!" We looked towards the door, and saw nothing, but they yelled, "There's someone there!" and we ran for our lives. Our backs turned on that dilapidated old bridge, and our feet pounded in the sand just as fast as our hearts pounded in our chests. We burst from the wilderness, and climbed the bank back into civilization. Clay and his friend were peppered with questions, asking for details, but answers eluded us. Forever after, the Secret River held a mysterious reverence in my mind. I didn't go back to the bridge for years. When I did, the bridge was still there, looking as if it were just the afternoon of the day that we had first seen it. It still held that same mystery, and I didn't go back often. I wanted to preserve the memory of that place forever.
-Matt
