Malevolence Ch 01

Aboriginal North Woods tribes called the lake Saganaga, 'Little Brother' to the big lake Gitche Gumee. To those First Americans, Saganaga was more than just a source of water and food; it possessed a living soul.

Straddling what is now the U.S. - Canadian border in the arrowhead of Minnesota, Saganaga Lake was so wide, Lisa and Travis couldn't see the far side; lake and sky merged in smeary watercolor hues of blue on blue. Fortunate for the young newlyweds, they didn't need to paddle their canoe across this inland sea. Paddling westbound, they hugged the southern shoreline on the first day of their wilderness adventure in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area.

Seated in front, Lisa stopped paddling and looked over her shoulder. As she expected, Travis was naked. Shortly after pushing off from their put-in point near the Gunflint Trail Campground, he had stripped off his cargo shorts, T-shirt and boxers. He looked her in the eye and smiled. She smiled back.

During their courtship in college, Lisa came to learn that Travis was an ardent naturist. On overnight canoe trips down Sycamore River, he routinely paddled naked, 'canuding' he called it, and he remained undressed all weekend without caring if anyone saw him. "Aren't you worried about getting arrested?" she asked the first time they went downriver. "Nah," he replied, "people out here don't care."

And Travis wasn't alone. Canuding the Sycamore was a popular pastime, enjoyed by many. And no one worried about entanglement with law enforcement. Sycamore River was on National Forest land. Hassling peaceful nudists was very low on forest rangers' list of enforcement priorities. Absent a citizen complaint, rangers followed the Beatles' advice: Let it be. And no one ever complained. Even though canuding the Sycamore was a longstanding local custom with acquiescence from the authorities, Lisa always remained dressed, at the very minimum a bikini. She didn't care for the idea of other men viewing her naked.

Travis was understanding of Lisa's stance on the matter. Whether or not to reveal your body in public is a personal decision. On canoe trips down the Sycamore, he would have preferred that she ditch her clothes and join the bares. Travis believed it was only a matter of time before she made that leap; her behavior when they were alone gave him hope. On hiking treks deep into National Forest back country, Lisa gleefully skinny-dipped with him in free-flowing streams . . . provided no one else was around.

Now, in the North Woods wilderness, no other people were anywhere in sight. By all appearances they had Saganaga to themselves. Lisa placed her paddle across her lap. She peeled off her red T-shirt then paused a moment before reaching behind her back to unfasten the clasp on her plain white brassiere. When she pulled the B cups away from her chest, Travis smiled. Grinning, she glanced over her shoulder. Her behavior further bolstered his hope and he thought: It's only a matter of time. Lisa stowed her discarded duds under the seat then onward they went, dipping their paddles forward and swinging them back.

Dip, dip and swing . . .

For many months they had been planning this canoe trip, consulting guidebooks and studying topographic maps. They had charted a loop route through glacial lake country which could easily be completed in four days but they allotted twice that much time. Having the luxury of leisure, they paddled with deliberate ease, taking delight in the wilderness, calling the lake brother, the forest sister, and living in rhythm with the natural world. Time passed. How much time they didn't know. Didn't care. The clock was meaningless. They paddled slowly, occasionally stopping to watch fish schooling beneath the hull, whitetails browsing the boreal forest and eagles soaring on the westerlies.

Taking a break, or a 'pose' as French voyageurs of old called it, a gentle breeze ushered them into a cove where the water was so clear, the rocky bottom was visible twenty feet below. Gazing into the deep, Lisa saw reflected herself, and the hazy summer sky. In a flight of fancy, she imagined she was a cosmic traveler hovering above earth and deciding whether or not to land her spaceship on this beautiful blue-white planet. Finally, she decided: No, she would venture back to the stars.

Dip, dip and swing . . .

By late afternoon, Lisa's metaphysical musings had given way to practical earthly concerns. She turned, looked at Travis and asked, "Where we gonna camp?" Officially designated Superior National Forest campsites were limited and widely spaced. Only at those sites were trekkers permitted to spend the nights in order to minimize human impact on the wilderness.

Travis consulted his topographic map. The next designated campsite was set back in a small cove amid the birch/pine forest. When they arrived there, Travis steered the canoe toward shore at an angle then backpaddled at just the right instant to bring it to a halt parallel to the pebbly beach. They climbed out and pulled the canoe onto dry land to prevent it from floating away. Lisa looked up and down the shore and into the forest. No one else was around. Absolutely no one.

Without hesitation, Lisa unzipped and unsnapped her denim shorts, slid them down her legs and stepped out of them. With no pause in the flow of motion, she hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her pink cotton panties and peeled them off. As always, being naked outdoors made her feel a bit naughty. Her bikini shadow was tanned although a lighter shade than her overall rich butterscotch color. She wasn't completely naked; she was still wearing her green baseball cap. Travis always thought that was a good 'look' for Lisa: nothing but a ball cap. It gave her sporty appeal. Shortly before their wedding, Lisa got her long chestnut hair cut and styled in a short shag. That, in combination with her petite stature, perfect oval face, neatly trimmed pubic patch and smallish breasts made her appear like a doe-eyed ingénue.

The two of them met at a student association mixer during their sophomore year in college. From the very beginning, Travis knew that Lisa was 'the one.' Lisa wasn't so sure about him. Her reserved personality kept her emotions in check. But their budding relationship grew by leaps and bounds and before long she had fallen head-over-heels in love with this tall hunky guy with the playful personality and wry wit. On August 12

th

, 1972, they were married in an informal ceremony befitting their mutual love of the outdoors: in Willow Park attended by family and a few close friends. Neither wanted a fancy 5-star resort honeymoon. No, the wilder the honeymoon the better. And there was no place wilder than the North Woods.

Travis smiled. "Photo op!" From his backpack in the canoe he retrieved his Minolta SLR. Lisa struck a pose: facing him, hands on hips, head slightly cocked. Using the built-in light meter, Travis adjusted the shutter speed and aperture to get the exposure correct. He carefully focused the lens and pressed the shutter release button. The viewfinder mirror flapped up and down, making a loud ka-thunk sound. She struck another pose: her back turned and looking over her shoulder wearing a sly grin. Ka-thunk. Yet another pose: in profile holding a paddle. Ka-thunk.

Lisa first posed nude for Travis during first semester of their junior year. When he broached the subject, she was reluctant, but after a bit of gentle persuasion, consented. However, she attached one ironclad proviso: she made him swear on a stack of bibles that he would never show the photos to anyone.

She remembered the first nude photo shoot like it was yesterday. In the off-campus apartment they shared, she posed on the bed in a variety of positions including a few spread shots. Afterward, she had mixed feelings about allowing her vulva to be photographed explicitly splayed. But since the photos were for Travis' eyes only, she came to feel okay about it.

And Lisa was willing to pose nude outdoors if no one else was around. The first outdoor shoot was on a hot July afternoon in Hoodoo Hollow in the National Forest back country. Travis shot an entire roll of film (36 exposures) of her strolling through the shady woods, inspecting unique rock formations and swimming in a clear cold stream. The latter stiffened her small button nipples. Travis shot an extreme close-up of the frigid flesh. Sprawled on a bed of moss, she posed for several spread shots and this time felt okay about it from the get-go. Once Travis finished snapping photos, Lisa bent over and braced both hands on a fallen tree trunk. Travis sidled up behind and slipped his erection deep inside. That was their first outdoor sex but not the last.

Lisa wasn't worried the color snapshots would be seen by others. Travis kept his word and stored the prints, and negatives, in a locked metal box on their closet shelf. Technicians in the film processing lab might have viewed them, and perhaps made copies, but that was unavoidable. If that did occur, it wasn't a major concern since she would never cross paths with those strangers and no one she knew would ever see the photos.

Whenever Travis saw Lisa naked, it moved him deeply. After returning his camera to his backpack in the canoe, he wrapped his strong arms around her back then thrust his open mouth at hers, a steamy kiss with boundless passion. Lisa melted inside and molded her lithe body with his. Their tongues intertwined. When Travis first grew his beard, Lisa didn't care for it. It tickled when they kissed. But, with time, it had grown on her as well and she came to like it, especially when he kissed her down below.

At length, they pulled apart. "C'mon," Lisa said, "you know what I like." Travis knew quite well what she liked: doggy, and lots of it. From her backpack in the canoe, Lisa retrieved her beach towel, spread it on the pebbles and assumed a pose on hands and knees. On his knees, Travis waddled up behind and wedged his engorged glans between her fuzzy lips. Inch by inch, he pushed deeper and deeper until his entire turgid length was buried. Lisa sighed heavily. Gripping her hips, he commenced thrusting at a slow pace. "Mmmmmmm . . . ohhhhhh . . . " Lisa was in hog heaven. His erection was bigger than average, both length and girth, and she always felt fully stuffed.

Early in their relationship, Travis learned that Lisa didn't care for jackhammer thrusting. She preferred a slow steady cadence. And so, on the shore of Saganaga on that sublime August afternoon, he thrust slowly, very slowly. With each slow plunge her moisture oozed and soaked her trimmed chestnut patch and with each slow withdrawal her feminine scent escaped and teased his nostrils. The slow pace worked for Travis as well; it extended his stamina. One minute passed, then two, three, and four and all the while Lisa softly voiced her pleasure. "Ohhhhhh . . . mmmmmm . . . "

With each sloppy wet thrust Lisa drew closer and closer to the brink. Her face grew rosy. Her breathing escalated. Every muscle was strung taught like piano wires. Eventually, she grimaced and groaned, "Nuuuuuughhh . . . " Gut-wrenching spasms ripped her flesh. White-hot heat spread to fingers and toes. Her face and neck flushed deep purplish-pink. As always, witnessing her ecstasy hastened his. "Ohhhhhh gawwwwwd . . . " Gripping her hips tightly, he stopped thrusting and pinned his coarse pubic patch against her butt. Toe-curling spasms shot spurt after spurt. Feeling his pulsing penis, Lisa smiled. The sensation of her man losing control was second only to orgasm. She waited until the pulsing ceased before flopping on her stomach. His penis popped out. Pearly ooze dribbled down her gaping cleft. Travis stretched out on his back beside her. Smiling, flushed-faced, sweating, Lisa turned her head and met him eye-to-eye. "We shoulda set up camp first. Now I don't feel like doing anything."

"I know how t' get you going." Travis didn't elaborate. He leaped to his feet then bent down and, in one smooth fluid motion, scooped his petite wife off the towel. "Travis!" Like a groom carrying his bride across the threshold, he made for the lake. "Travis! Stop it!" Lisa was kicking and twisting, trying to escape without success. Ignoring her physical and verbal protests, he gripped her tighter and waded in knee-deep. "Travis!" When he reached waist-deep water, he gave her a mighty heave. Travis was tall and strong as an ox. Lisa sailed through the air a good distance, screaming, arms and legs flailing. When she finally splashed down, ripples radiated. Travis raked a hand through his long dark hair and laughed a giant Paul Bunyan belly laugh that echoed through the forest.

Lisa surfaced, spitting and sputtering. Her baseball cap had come off and was floating nearby. Her short, shaggy chestnut hair was plastered against her scalp. "You dickhead!" Standing chest-deep, she splashed water at him. He splashed her. Back and forth, splash, counter splash, both of them laughing hysterically. The mock hostilities were short-lived, ending with an embrace and timeless kiss. "Yer right," Lisa said, "it got me goin'. Let's set up camp." She retrieved her cap then they spent a moment swabbing their messy genitals.

The Forest Service campsite provided only primitive amenities: a fire ring of granite stones and a short distance away, a bear bar to secure foodstuffs. Farther away yet was a one-holer wilderness privy.

Lisa felt no need to get dressed. There was no one around, not on land or water. They erected their green nylon dome tent, unrolled their double-wide sleeping bag inside, and turned the canoe upside-down in case it rained. They also hung a nylon clothesline between two birch trees and draped their discarded duds upon it.

They had brought lightweight freeze-dried and dehydrated foods to lighten the load on the many portages along their route. Lisa fired up their small propane camp stove and began preparing supper, beef Stroganoff. Travis wandered down the shore, collecting driftwood for an evening campfire. Lisa's eyes drifted away from the cook pot and focused on her husband down the way. How virile he looks, she thought. Lean, hard, sculpted, nice butt. And once again she started to melt inside.

After supper, Travis secured their food bag by hoisting it high on the bear bar: two sturdy 15 foot poles set in the ground atop which was lashed a horizontal 15 foot pole. It resembled a vintage football goal post only without the tall uprights. All of their food fit in one large nylon utility bag onto which he tied a rope. He tossed the loose end of the rope over the horizontal pole, hoisted the bag high, then tied the loose end onto one of the vertical poles with a clove hitch he learned in Boy Scouts.

Just before sundown, Travis tried his luck; he cast his fishing line. Lisa retrieved her notebook and pen. Seated cross-legged on her towel, she commenced putting words to paper. In college, she acquired the habit of keeping a journal that was separate from, but a natural extension of, the diary she had kept since her youth. The journal entries comprised accounts of her travels, college activities, hobbies, etc.. Now, she chronicled the events of the first day of their wilderness adventure.

Awhile later, Travis abandoned the cause because no fish were biting. Lisa put aside her journal then touched a match to the stack of driftwood in the fire ring. After dark, the newlyweds wrapped a blanket around themselves and cuddled by the campfire. Dreamy dancing flames popped and whorled, sending plumes of sparks spiraling toward the heavens where one by one they winked out, surrendering their essence to a sky painted with stars. Lisa always felt loved and protected when lying in Travis' arms. And she felt the need for protection now more than ever. She was feeling vulnerable in the wilderness.

Two days before their wedding, they went to see the newly released motion picture, 'Deliverance.' Lisa thought it would be a splendid idea to watch a canoeing movie before embarking on a canoeing honeymoon. Wrong. The dark, twisted, violent themes unsettled her so severely she wanted to cancel their trip. Travis assured his jittery bride-to-be that the North Woods was much different than the Deep South and they would be safe. And to ensure their safety he was planning to bring two old friends of his: Smith & Wesson. Using deadly force was always a last resort. But if necessary, Travis had no problem using it. He wasn't worried that shotgun-toting toothless hillbillies would commit forced sodomy. Neither was he worried about other trekkers who might cross their path. In his experience, those who ventured into the wild were a breed apart. His primary concern was marauding black bears.

Lisa cuddled closer with her head nestled in the crook of his arm. Travis never felt greater contentment. Everything was alright with their world. Without warning, the night exploded in brilliant yellow-green light, bright as midday, as a huge meteor blazed across the sky, leaving a wake of smoke and shimmering stardust. Shadows of trees moved rapidly across the ground as if the sun was shining and the earth was spinning a thousand times faster than normal. Enthralled, they watched the fireball streak southwestward and vanish over the horizon. And once again, darkness ruled the night.

Aboriginal North Woods tribes lived in harmony with the natural world. Their days and nights were measured by the movement of the sun, the moon and the stars. Whenever they saw fire in the sky, they believed it was an omen, a harbinger of misfortune. And the greater the fire, the greater the danger.

The meteor was the brightest, most spectacular the newlyweds had ever witnessed. "WHOA!!!" Lisa blurted. "That was totally awesome!"

"Sure was! Did you make a wish?"

"Yeah."

"What is it?"

"If I tell you it won't come true." Her tone was coy. Lisa's wish-upon-a-falling-star was a modest one. In Travis, she already possessed everything she desired.

At bedtime, the young lovers crawled into their tent, zipped the door shut, and snuggled inside their double-wide sleeping bag. Travis pulled Lisa close. Her bare body, soft and warm, felt heavenly pressed against his. He switched off the flashlight, plunging them into darkness save for the dim glow of dying firelight. He reached over and felt for his .357 revolver lying on the floor beside him. He gripped the loaded chamber. The cold hard steel felt good in his hand. Empowering.

* * * *

In the morning, Lisa and Travis slept in. The sun was well above the horizon before they crawled out of their tent and made breakfast of oatmeal and raisins washed down with hot tea. Afterward, they broke camp, loaded their backpacks in the canoe, and pushed off for their second day of paddling the North Woods wilderness. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at their first portage where they disembarked, donned their backpacks then grabbed their canoe by the handles (fore and aft) and set off walking along the well-worn path through the birch/pine forest. Instinctively, Travis scanned the woods, left and right, looking for bears. Thankfully, he didn't see any. Neither did he spy any toothless hillbillies. He grinned at the comical notion. Lisa was on high alert too but she wasn't grinning.

The portage was flat and easy; two minutes brought them to tiny Swamp Lake where they doffed their packs, loaded them aboard, then set off paddling. Twenty minutes later, they came to another portage, a longer one this time, leading to Ottertrack Lake where they floated their canoe, loaded it, and set off paddling westbound.

With the day heating up, Travis, seated in the stern, stopped paddling and stripped naked. As he removed one clothing item after another, Lisa felt the canoe rocking side-to-side. She stopped paddling and looked around. No other people were anywhere in sight. They had the lake to themselves save for the wildlife inhabiting the forest. Without compunction, she stripped off every stitch. Travis smiled broadly, wider than the wilderness sky. She stowed her discarded shorts, panties and brassier in her backpack but left her T-shirt out and easily accessible in case she needed to toss it on quickly if other trekkers happened to come along. Onward they went, dipping their paddles forward and swinging them back.

Dip, dip, and swing . . .