Malevolence Ch. 03

Now, they could relax. Both turned their thoughts inward and reflected on their honeymoon. It had been an awesome adventure despite the adversity. Or, rather, because of the adversity. Looking death in the eye and surviving made them feel alive. Really, really, alive. After roughing it for ten days, Lisa was looking forward to returning to the comforts of 20th century life. But at the same time, she felt sad because she had to leave this watery wilderness which had become a huge part of her.

Henry David Thoreau wrote: "In wilderness is the preservation of the world." He might well have meant: In wilderness is the preservation of our souls. In the wilderness we are reminded of our origins and, despite our hubris, how utterly dependent we are on the natural world. We are humbled. Wilderness is a place that exists not merely on a map; it is a place deeply rooted in the human spirit.

Travis smelled bacon. The savory aroma suggested they must be getting close to the Gunflint Trail Campground. Bacon is a comfort food you don't dare tote into the back country unless you want a slew of black bears raiding your camp. And he sensed something else. Surely, Lisa had to hear it as well.

"Lisa, you hear a banjo?"

She stopped paddling and turned to face him, scowling. "If you say that one more time, I'm gonna hit you!" To prove she meant it, she brandished her paddle.

"No, really, listen."

Lisa inclined her ear. From a distant somewhere, unseen through the fog, came the barely audible yet unmistakable pluck-thump of a stringed instrument. Banjo? Guitar? Mandolin? Hard to say, but she wasn't just hearing phantom music.

"You're right, I do hear it. I apologize for wanting to hit you."

"Apology accepted."

They kept watching for the shoreline through the fog and soon, rocks and trees appeared, ghost-like at first, then more and more distinct. The stringed instrument music had continued and grown louder and now they discovered its origin. Seated in lawn chairs beside an old camping trailer, two gentlemen of equally antique vintage were strumming their instruments, a banjo and guitar. At a picnic table nearby, two middle-aged women were preparing breakfast while watching three young boys playing among the pines.

Travis back-paddled the canoe to a halt parallel to the shore mere yards from the camping trailer. While unloading their gear, the gent playing banjo took note of Travis' battered appearance, his bruised left cheek and cuts on his forehead. He quit strumming and spoke up. "Hoooooie son! What in tarnation happent to you?"

Travis gave the gent and his friend the abridged version of his cliff-falling ordeal. The gent commented, "I thought a bear got aholt of ya."

"Well, that almost happened too."

"Hoooooie!" The gent smiled, revealing a mouthful of crooked brown teeth.

Lisa stayed with the canoe while Travis made the short walk across the narrow isthmus between Seagull Lake and Saganaga where they parked their car. As soon as he pressed the accelerator pedal, it felt strange not having to work any muscles in order to move. When he pulled up and parked beside the old camping trailer, the gents were playing an uptempo rendition of Foggy Mountain Breakdown. Not until Travis and Lisa had all of their gear loaded in the car and the canoe tied atop did the musicians finish jamming.

Travis addressed the duo. "Say, do y'all happen to know Dueling Banjos?" Lisa rolled her eyes.

"Why, we shorly do," the gent on banjo replied. Both musicians moved their capos.

"Hit it Chester," the gent said.

On guitar, Chester launched into the opening measures of 'Dueling Banjos.' The gent on banjo echoed the measures. On and on, echo after echo. At the point in the song where they really got rollicking, Lisa smiled at Travis and shook her head. He took her hand and pulled her into an embrace.

"What am I gonna do with you?" she asked.

He kissed her lightly and gazed into the depths of her soft hazel eyes, brimming with the light of love. "Just love me," he replied. "Love me forever."

* * * *

Back home in Indiana, Travis resumed working in the family business: Kincade's Fine Furniture with four locations in the greater Indy metro area. Since he was a teenager, he had worked for his father in a variety of capacities and now, assumed the position of general manger. Lisa began her teaching career at Brant Park elementary school. Third grade. She loved children and wanted lots of her own. Now that they had begun their married life, she quit taking oral contraceptives.

In her spare time, Lisa worked on the photo album of their honeymoon adventure in the Boundary Waters. She had plenty of photos to choose from: 324 visible light pics and 36 in infrared. Her journal entries supplied material for captions, some of which were lengthy, all the better to tell the story behind the image. Even before they returned home, Lisa had resolved to include in the album some nude photos of herself and Travis. Being naked much of the time had been such a big part of their vacation, to omit photos depicting that would leave the album deficient of reality. She had become an unashamed nudist so she didn't feel squeamish about the prospect of friends and family viewing such photos.

The finished album contained 141 photos including 17 nude shots that were tasteful to a fault. Except for showing private skin, they were no different than vacation snapshots taken by textile-compulsive citizens. Some were frontal, others from the rear. In all of them, they were not the prominent focal point but rather, subordinate to the beautiful landscapes. One of Lisa's favorites was an infrared photo taken on their next-to-last day on Seagull Lake. She was standing on the pebbly beach, center left in the frame, with the vast expanse of Seagull in the background. In IR, she appeared to be an alabaster-skinned goddess. Her small button nipples were abnormally dark and her sparse pubic hair abnormally light which made her vulva seem shaved.

On September 30th, Lisa's parents hosted a party to celebrate her 23^rd birthday. In attendance were Travis' parents and a few close friends of the newlyweds. Lisa brought their Boundary Waters photo album and placed it on the living room coffee table. The party featured a backyard cookout. Guests circulated in and out of the house. One time when Lisa went in, three of her friends, both genders, we seated on the sofa looking at the album. Their faces betrayed no indication they had viewed the nude photos but how could they miss them? Later, Lisa went inside and, from a distance, spied her father perusing the album. He had a misty look in his eyes. Not since her earliest childhood had he seen her undressed. Indeed, his little girl had grown up.

Craig Monroe's article/photo spread was published in the October issue of Wilderness Life magazine. One of his photos, a bull moose browsing forage in shallow water, was on the cover. The article about the Boundary Waters was titled: 'Trouble In Paradise.' The piece was an informative travelogue accompanied by artistic photos. Some of it chronicled the bizarre happenings experienced by scores of trekkers, hence the title.

Travis and Lisa were prominently featured because of the severe impact of a bizarre happening. An entire page was devoted to the saga of Travis being struck by a toppling tree, falling off the cliff, nearly drowning, being rescued by Lisa and receiving medical attention from Brian and Terri. The segment was accompanied by a full-frontal photo Craig snapped of the newlyweds at Jasper Lake. Standing side-by-side on a rock ledge, Lisa had her arm wrapped around Travis' waist and he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. The lake was in the background. Lisa was immensely pleased with the photo and the national exposure. It cemented her self-described identity: an unashamed nudist.

Throughout the article were sprinkled photos of landscapes, wildflowers, animals and people, some clothed, some not. One of those nude photos was a rear shot of Travis and Lisa taken with a telephoto lens from Craig's camouflaged duck blind while he was photographing loons on Knife Lake. The photo showed the newlyweds wading into the lake, knee-deep, hand-in-hand, immediately after having sex. When they first viewed the photo, they didn't realize it was them. Once they made that connection, it didn't take them long to understand where the photo was taken and what they had been doing immediately beforehand. That begged the question: Did he photograph us having sex? Now, Lisa felt vindicated. Every time she felt someone was watching them, that might have been the case: Craig Monroe and his candid camera.

In the article, Craig spoke with trekkers about why they believed bizarre things were happening.

One young man believed sunspot activity was affecting events on earth.

A middle-aged man believed the bizarre happenings signaled the end of days were near and every man, woman and child needed to get right with the Lord.

A buxom young woman with purple hair, and pubes, believed space aliens were messing with lowly earthlings and maybe, just maybe, an invasion was coming.

A bearded man believed the Soviets had weaponized inaudible ultra-low frequency sound waves which they were beaming over the North Pole. Somehow, that was disrupting the balance of nature.

A teenage male, a Boy Scout, believed a Chippewa shaman had sworn a curse upon the land to retaliate against white encroachment.

A mature woman, who claimed to be clairvoyant, earnestly believed a dark malevolent force of unknown origin was responsible. When Craig pressed her to elaborate, all she offered was: "There's something evil here."

Travis had shot an entire roll, 36 exposures, of infrared film. In five of those IR photos there was a mysterious image: a white nebulous form with an irregular outline that faded away at the edges. Each of the five nebulas was a different shape, size and brightness. Travis assumed the nebulas were an optical aberration, the result of radiant heat penetrating the camera body. IR film is highly sensitive in that regard. However, he wasn't entirely certain of his analysis because the nebulas had one feature in common he could not explain: what appeared to be eyes, black as coal, staring straight at the camera. Not until they received their copy of Wilderness Life and read the clairvoyant's opinion, did Travis and Lisa understand they had photographed something not of this world. The clairvoyant could only feel the evil presence. Infrared film could see it.

The nebula's appearance in three of the IR photos did not coincide with any of the bizarre happenings they witnessed. In two photos it did: at Thunder Point right before the crazy hawk attacked them and in the birch grove on Ogishkemuncie Lake. In the latter, it was hovering above the ground right behind Lisa. A split second after the photo was snapped, the rogue lightning bolt nearly electrocuted them. The nebula, the entity, might have been present when the rockfall nearly killed Lisa and then again when the pine tree struck Travis. But they had no photo evidence to prove it. Lisa felt further vindication. Perhaps that . . . thing . . . had been watching them day and night.

What was the nebula? A ghost? An alien? The Devil? Something else, utterly unfathomable? Was it responsible for the bizarre happenings? If so, what was its motive? Why did it sow mayhem? Why did it try to kill them?

So many questions but no answers. In the end, Lisa and Travis were left scratching their heads and pondering the central question: What did happen in the North Woods?