This is a story about Bobby Lee, a self-proclaimed pirate. We encountered Bobby Lee drunk, as pirates often are, and attempting to maneuver a two-canoe fleet through what Bev described as “Class Zero rapids” in knee-deep water on the Little River, which flows out of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It was a hot summer day and a group of us were enjoying a post-bike-ride swim when we first noticed Bobby Lee and his three-member crew coming toward us.
One of the canoes proudly flew a pirate flag (complete with skull and crossbones), well, until it capsized. In two feet of water. We watched as the flag went over and the pirates’ beer cooler flew open, sending its contents spilling into the river. The pirates struggled to beach their two canoes and regroup while we calmly collected their loot as it floated downstream. After gathering their wits (or taking a short nap on the shore, we’re not sure which), the intrepid sailors re-launched their canoes and paddled their way to us, where we had gathered their trove of Budweiser and Zip-Loc protected cigarettes. We had been feeling a bit smug, drinking our IPAs after riding bicycles worth thousands of dollars and having a good laugh at the expense of so-called pirates who drank Bud, smoked cigarettes, and capsized two canoes in water that wouldn’t reach the top of a bathtub.
But then something unexpected happened. These pirates laughed with us about tipping their canoes, sending their pirate flag into the drink, and watching their beer and smokes go floating away. As they reclaimed their stash, Bobby Lee, a man you would want on your side when the zombie invasion comes, formally introduced himself and, as thanks, offered me his small single-blade Case Lockback camo pocketknife, saying “this is the only thing of value on me and I want you to have it.” I tried to refuse but Bobby Lee, a drunken but nevertheless sincere pirate, would have nothing of it. I took the knife and thanked him for his kindness.
I keep thinking about this encounter. Bev and I left the rat race of California, seeking new experiences and a better quality of life. Before this, Bobby Lee only existed for me in movies like “Deliverance” or comedy routines about rednecks. Living our lives out loud always gets us out of our comfort zone and we grow by meeting people we otherwise wouldn’t have. After sobering up, Bobby Lee may have wondered where his knife went but for me his simple act sums up so much of what we love about Tennessee. Beautiful, uncrowded outdoors. Open spaces. Genuinely nice people. A simpler life. Drunken, generous pirates who drink Bud and smoke cigarettes.
It’s been called the Event of the Year and I’m not talking about a royal baby – king, shming. Millions of women will pop out babies this year. Only one woman ran six miles of trails with a veil attached to her running visor before sprinting down the “aisle” to an unscheduled performance of “Here Comes The Bride” by the Plastic Kazoo Band.