Shipping container covered walkway in Skagway, Alaska.
The church is quiet as I light the last candle in the row, closing my eyes and murmuring a desperate prayer. A cold whisper of a draft blows against my neck, and when I open my eyes, my candle is the only one lit.
On it’s own, the jangling banjo tune featured in the 1972 film Deliverance doesn’t have a hint of foreboding to it. But when it’s layered over the antics of it’s four main characters, it builds an increasing sense of dread. The movie centers around four friends, Lewis, Bobby, Drew and Ed embarking on a canoe trip down the Cahulawasse River, which is about to be dammed and turned into a massive lake. When the group arrives in the area at the beginning of the film, they stop to gas up and hire a few locals to drive their cars down to the end of the river, where they will meet them in a day. As the camera cuts from the musical exchange between a steely eyed local and Drew to the increasingly obnoxious antics of Lewis and Bobby, the audience, along with Ed, becomes increasingly unsettled. The whole scene provides foreshadowing for the conflict the group will face with a pair of locals later in the film, and the tune itself will bring a feeling …
As soon as I stepped off the cruise ship and walked down the gangway onto land, Icy Straight Point took my breath away. It was the first of four stops in a 7 day cruise, and also the most unspoiled.
Sea salt in her hair A breeze on her lips Her hands clasp a cup From which only she can drink Her throne a thousand pebbles Smoothed by sands of time Her crown woven by grasses From dunes rising tall behind The sky a cloudless blue Sunshine warms her face The sound of lapping waves Holds her in an embrace Eyes closed, head back Floating in an abyss In her mind’s eternal depths Nothing is amiss