River riders bid reluctant farewell to current's pull

The sun beats down on the Maple Run batteau as the temperature edges toward 100 degrees Saturday.

With just a few miles left of their 120-mile journey down the James River, the Amherst County crew is subdued.

Last night, the crew swapped stories under a full moon. They shared cheap wine and belly laughs.

Now fatigue has set in. But in the spirit of the James River Batteau Festival, the crew hardly complains about the heat or the dwindling supply of beer or the sluggish current.

Instead, the float onward, soaking up their last moments together.

“What time is it?” says Raymond Moore, an electrician from Amherst County.

Captain Roger Huffman — a man of few words — gazes into the sky.

“It’s daytime,” he says, cracking a smile.

A few river miles later, when morale dwindles, they load their homemade cannon up with gunpowder.

“Fire in the hole!” hollers Huffman.

The crew shoves fingers into their ears.

BOOOOOM!

The blast rattles the boat and gunpowder fills the air.

There are smiles onboard.

They’re almost there.

•••

Eight days ago, 24 boats set off from Lynchburg (one sank before take off) and nearly all will make it to the shore near Richmond — making the festival’s 25th year one of the most successful in history.

In period costumes drenched in sweat and river muck, the batteaux crews retraced the trade route from the 17th and 18th century that transported tobacco and other commodities down the James River.

At the last stop — Maiden’s Landing — the crews emerge from the 18th century and leave the river behind.

They leave behind the sunsets, the laughter, the stories fueled by beer and campfires.

They leave behind the banjo music, the gentle rock of the batteaux and the steam rising from the river after a thunderstorm.

Most of all, they leave behind their river family — a tight-knit community that has formed since the festival began 25 years ago.

Like any family, the festival is full of tall tales and some larger-than-life characters.

There’s Roy “River Rat” Barnard, who, in years past, has been spotted strolling through camp is nothing more than a loincloth.

There’s “Dulcimer” Dave McNew, whose baritone voice can be heard each morning when his batteau, the Thomas Jefferson’s Spirit of New London, shoves off from camp.

There’s the women of the Lady Slipper that forge down the river no matter what obstacles stand in their way.

There’s countless more, and together they are the heart of the festival.

•••

The Maple Run floats in memory of Dewey Wood — their former captain, known simply as “Dewey.”

“He was a big old strong guy, but a teddy bear,” crewmate Rebekah Pekar says.

Dewey was a legend of the batteau festival, a friend to all and a stranger to none, as the old-timers describe him. In 2007 he was fatally shot just weeks before the launch.

The Maple Run was devastated and almost pulled out that year, but decided at the last minute to ride in Dewey’s honor.

His funeral was packed with festival friends wearing their period costumes — the batteau family.

Huffman keeps Wood’s drink jug, and drinks from it on occasion.

The Maple Run plans to keep the spirit of Dewey alive with many more years down the river.

Captain Huffman is getting older now, and may turn the leadership to Pekar.

“Well keep on ridin’,” Pekar says. “Even if Roger does threaten to quit, we’ll keep on goin’.”