34 ½ Foot Rabid Anaconda

I posted some pictures the other day of my trip to the great little swimming hole on Elkhorn Creek at my friend’s house. Well, I posted some pictures of myself in some get-up that was intended and received as a joke by my friends. Unlike this post, which is super serious business. Regardless, we had a great time at the creek…although; I was the only one that got in the water.

One friend, let’s call him Buford*, never seems interested in swimming but still likes to hang out at the pool or creek or whatever. Another friend, who we’ll call Gus*, spent his entire childhood catching crawdads in a nasty little creek in Lexington. Who also admittedly got rashes as a child from the said creek. Hmmm. Interesting.

So back to today's story. We shimmied down the hillside to the creek bank and discovered exactly how uneven the rocks were when Buford and Gus set up their camp chairs. Not to worry, they did find a fine flat spot for the cooler of beer**. Wink wink.

Kodie and I didn’t waste any time. We both eased into the creek. I, of course, had plenty of buoyancy with my PFD, swimming noodles, and Angelfish shaped ring. I’m pretty open that I’m not a really good swimmer so in order to really enjoy myself it’s best if I have plenty of floaty toys to hang out with. I’m cool with my dorky self.

Well, I tried all day but I could not coax Buford and Gus into the water. Buford just kept saying no and Gus kept saying, “The town upstream is what is worrying me.” I replied, “Gus, come on. People have been swimming in creeks for hundreds of years.” Gus ended the conversation with, “Yes, but we’ve only been polluting them for about 50 or so.”

Well, I wasn’t about to let a little DDT and industrial waste ruin my good time with my swimming noodles. I floated about on and off for about 2-3 hours teasing the “city girls” that I brought with me that next time we’d go to a nice chlorinated swimming pool so they didn’t get their sandals dirty.

Suddenly, I looked over towards Gus and noticed a stick that I hadn’t noticed before. Then I noticed the shape of the stick had a thick portion sticking up from the water, slimming just before a broad triangular shape with a forked moving object protruding from its…OH MY GOD IT’S A SNAKE!!!!!!!!

I immediately jumped out of the water and stood on the bank in total irrational fear. Gus was slightly uncomfortable with the idea that a snake was about 3 inches from where he’d been dipping his toes in the creek. Buford barely noticed.

After a few minutes the snake went below and didn’t surface for quite some time. Assuming he had gone on his merry little snake way, I waded back into noodle-bouncing territory.

And you guessed it. After about 5 minutes that gigantic fork-tongued creature returned. I flew out of the creek walking on water until I reached the safety of the bank. This time I had gotten a better look at his wide body.

I knew I was done for the day so I began to gather my belongings. Buford became slightly enamored with the beast and wanted to see it in its entirety. After several appearances looking out across the creek, the crazy maniac snake started to turn his gaze on us. He would watch us for 1 or 2 minutes, go below the surface of the water, and come back up closer to us making full eye contact.

I very calmly collected my towel with completely rational moves and started up the hill. That’s exactly when the 34½ foot rabid Anaconda went for my jugular.

And once again, Gus made a very good point in all of his wisdom.

“Ultimately it was the city that prevented me from enjoying nature, and it was the nature that ran Jodi off.”

Ok, I’m finding new friends to take to the swimming hole on Elkhorn Creek.

Still, thanks to my brave dog, companions, and swimming noodle, my life was spared that day on the Elkhorn Creek. And I am forever grateful.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
**Note: We exercise zero tolerance policies for drinking & floating.