In the mormon faith, they have an organization called Young Womens for girls between the ages of 12 and 18. Every summer the young women's organization would gather a small region of girls together and go camping in the woods for a week. Accomodations were dependent on the resources available in the area. In Tacoma, Washington, there was a church property where 10+ tents would be set up per group and girls would share tents sleepover style. In Georgia, where this story takes place, we would use the cabins at a nearby boyscout camp, complete with swimming pool, mess hall, indoor toilets and showers, and a creek.


I was visiting Georgia after moving to Oregon, and my last week was to be spent with the girls who I had gotten to know at the week long summer camping experience. The second night there we were practicing canoeing, as we were going to be going canoeing the next day. They were testing us to see who knew what they were doing, and who didn't, and how to educate the people who didn't. I was placed with my friend Larkin (older and wiser and married young women's counselor) and a girl who's name I don't remember. However, I will always remember that she was afraid of water, and didn't know how to swim - we will kindly refer to her as third girl and not 'get me out get me out I'm going to die I'm going to die'. (Also much easier to type.)

The first portion of the canoeing test was launching from shore into water. We put me and my sizeable derriere into the back of the canoe, Larkin in front, and the third girl in the center. Our first attempt at launching we pushed off the shore, I was standing in the back of the boat trying to sit down, when my shoe caught on a rod and I flipped overboard, knocking the other girls into the creek too. Somehow, the caught shoe came off of my foot and remained clean and dry, in the boat.

We climbed out of the water, looking much like drowned vermin, and tried again. This time Miss Clumsy (me) sat in the front, third girl in the middle, and Larkin in the back, and we launched without a hitch. We had to row upstream to a small dock for our second test where we got out and onto the dock one at a time, and back in the canoe. Done. Perfect.

Our third test was getting out of the boat onto a dockless shore. We had unfortunately parked me next to a bush, but third girl was so terrified that Larkin and I decided we'd let her get out first, then back the canoe up and get out ourselves. However, you know what they say about the best laid plans. When third girl got onto the shore she pushed herself out of the canoe in such a way that our boat not only tipped, but spun, turning us upside down and drenching my formerly dry shoe.

Larkin and I decided we'd had enough and were just going to climb out of the creek and call it a day. However, we were armpit deep in a Georgia creek, the sides of which were vertical and made from Georgia clay. For those of you who have not experienced Georgia clay in person, there is no real description of what it's like. The closest I can come is gooey, sticky red mud that not only attempts to suck your clothes from your person but permanently stains what shreds of clothing you manage to escape with. Larkin was pushing me up from below, a big strong man was pulling me from above, and my shoes were sinking further and further into the wall. However, this is not the point of the story.

I'm distracted by the group of children that have gathered about five feet away, one hushed murmur in particular 'Do you see that giant spider on her leg?' I halt any progression completely and look down toward my leg in slow motion, where I see a tarantula the size of my palm happily parked above my knee on my thigh, blissfully unaware of the fact that I'm sinking back into the creek. My only thought is that if I get back into the water, maybe ... just maybe ... this furry, fanged, eight-legged harbinger of death and all things related to death will decide that I'm not so much fun to explore anymore and skitter off into the woods. Snap back to real time.

Larkin and buff strong man are both unaware of my recent arachnid discovery and think that I'm just falling back into the creek, both try harder to pull me out as I'm struggling to get back in. By the way, during this time I have lost all ability to form sounds, let alone coherent thought out sentences. I manage to get out 'Spuh...spuh....spuh...' before Larkin looks down at my leg and sees the offending exoskeletal monstrosity. I finally manage to utter the most terrifying word in the dictionary. "SPIDER!" Now, Larkin is actually more afraid of spiders than I am (if this is humanly possible) and makes a loud squeak before dropping me. As my eyes are on the spider I watch it jump on the shore and the giggling kids scatter as if they're being chased by fire-breathing dragons.

This particular adventure ends with the vision of Larkin and I running upstream, against the current, to escape the foul beast before finally climbing out of the creek and heading straight to the thankfully indoor showers.