Old Black Mingo Keep on Rollin’
I can’t see around the bend in the black water. Does that really matter? The next bend in life is a mystery, too, but that doesn’t stop me from living it.
Most days, anyway.
Some mornings, I can’t put one foot on the floor. The walls of my bedroom crush in on me, and lifting my head is a physical impossibility. I can’t swim through the black water to the other side.
That’s why I’m here. Outdoors. Standing on the glassy edge of Black Mingo Creek. Because riding an upper makes me a daredevil. A stuntman who wants to paddle through the quiet of a Southern swamp in a kayak with a canvas frame. Hear the drip of the blades as they cut through the tannic water. Smell the brackish tinge of sea miles inland. Look for turtles sunning themselves along submerged tree branches. Snap pictures of bald eagles nesting high up in the cypress trees, their knuckled trunks fanning out in waves to grip the earth, disappearing along the edges of the water.
Demons live in Black Mingo. Ghosts of who-knows-what. When I submerge my hand an inch in that scudding liquid, I can’t even see my digits. Cypress stains the water the color of black tea. Who knows what could be hidden just under the surface? Why, things that are older than time itself.
My daredevil is out to find a demon. A black spirit to take my pain away. To scrub me clean. I’m going to make it to the other side of this thing.
Watch me.
This week’s series of fiction is set in historic Black Mingo Swamp. To read more about the history of Black Mingo, click here. Thank you for reading, for commenting and for sharing my blog.
How cool that you are writing about this. I look forward to more! It was great to share the place with you and Michael and I love your photo.
I got a few pictures that were really good. I couldn’t see the screen on any of them, really, so I never knew what I was snapping.
Another fun place for black water, snakes hanging from trees right over your head and bugs bigger than a back pack is the upper Ashley River. It narrows to a very creepy creek with critters eyeballing you from just below the surface and snakes falling into boats are commonplace. Something Wicked This Way Comes.
On the July 4 float down, I apparently shimmied under a tree and a snake was perched right on top of it. I’m so glad I didn’t see that snake when I was playing limbo with that tree.
Weee! I can’t wait to see what happens when the demon appears.
It still has to appear to me. Who knows what will come of this, because I have no idea what this person is going to find.
Saw that river as we passed it near Andrews, SC. Any idea where the name comes from? I was intrigued then, but had forgotten to research it. I love the cypress stained black water. And the cypress knees…
Maybe those reveals are part of the series.
I love the stained water, too.
Come on, we “kneed” to know. Bwaaa haaaa haaa…..
Wow, the image of a river flowing black is a powerful one. Can’t wait to see where it takes us next. Hope you’ve had a lovely weekend.
Hugs,
Kathy
It’s always so weird to see these impenetrable waterways, Kathy. And a gift, if that makes sense.
No, don’t stick your hand into the pool of blackness…don’t do it. Seriously, I felt myself cringe when you wrote, “When I submerge my hand an inch in that scudding liquid…” I could also see a winding snake heading right toward the kayak. Row, row, row!!!!
What’s funny about this series, Lori, is that I’ve put my WHOLE BODY in one of these black rivers and floated down it in a tire tube. Multiple times.
OMGoodness Andra! Mike and I would never allow Carrington to float the Boise River because there have been dead things in it. Too funny! I cannot imagine the courage you must have had to float down in a tube…there is NO WAY you would get me to do that – No Way – fear rules!
It isn’t courage. It’s called a massive gin and tonic in an adult sippy cup.
What a great name that is! I think I’d love exploring a place like that — once I’d bathed in DEET, that is. There are so many cool living things lurking in those places.
I’ve only done it in a powerboat, and the bugs have a hard time keeping up.
Oooh I am going to enjoy this mini-series, Andra. I love the swamps and rivers and bayous of the south…they are so distinct to the region and I’m sure history adds a quality of mystery that reaches back centuries. I appreciated the link to fill in what I didn’t know about the Black Mingo Swamp. I would love to see it one day! Debra
They are a part of my soul, Debra. Haunted, haunting places. So distinctive. They seep into everything.