In the movie four Atlanta businessmen decide to canoe down the Cahulawassee River in the remote Georgia wilderness in a canoe. The film was a huge success starring Burt Reynolds, Jon Voight, Ned Beatty and Ronny Cox.
Though the film was a thriller with some horribly gruesome happenings to the Adventurers. It had one memorable scene and musical piece where the Ronny Cox character has a banjo duel with one of the local inbred boys.
Still there was something irresistible to men of that age at the time to do their own Deliverance survival adventure.
I was living in Parkersburg, West Virginia at the time and in the advertising business. My two closest friends there were also Advertising Guys; Tim Archer, who published a shopper called the Vienna Advertiser and Bob Fitzpatrick, who was an Account Executive at the Fahlgren Advertising Agency.
Many evenings the three of us, Parkersburg's answer to the men in the grey flannel suit and Madison Avenue, would spend evenings and weekends in our sunroom watching sports on television. As happens when young men get together the conversations rarely have much worthwhile substance and ours were no exception. But one recurring theme we had was with our mutual fascination with the Deliverance adventure and how we should reenact the weekend.
Now would be the time to point out that the three of us were all graduates of West Virginia University with Advertising majors and "roughing it" for us was walking on the grass in Woodburn Circle rather than the sidewalk.
About this same time that I was often wearing my first L.L. Bean insulated vest and bought and specially ordered a white Chevrolet Blazer. A four wheel drive bad boy with raised white letter tires and white spokes. The vest, flannel shirts, white jeans and this, how could one person be more manly? This vehicle was to be the perfect vessel to take us on our Deliverance adventure, cue the banjos.
A law partner of my father in law at the time was also a partner in a hunting and fishing camp in Hardy County, West Virginia, on the North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac. Peru Hollow; or the West Virginia pronunciation PEE' ru Holler. Peeru Holler, the Big Chevy Blazer and three willing participants in the West Virginia sequel to Deliverance.
Never mind that we were wusses, we had no idea how to hunt, fish or live in the wild. I had been pier fishing twice as a child, I believe Tim did know how to bait a hook, and Bob's biggest adventure was a week in Miami, Florida to scout for neighborhoods that looked like Parkersburg to film a United Bank television commercial.
The trip was planned we had received all of our directions to the camp, including that we would have to pass through the property and gate with the permission of a gentleman known only as The Pig Man.
The trip was on. We were to depart Parkersburg a Friday evening after work and drive East across the State to Peru Hollow, a part of West Virginia we had never been. We were well equipped with the finest outdoor clothing and equipment. The Blazer was well stocked with what we felt was outdoorsy food; beef jerky, summer sausage eggs, bread, beer, cigars and Jack Daniels.
It seemed we drove forever into a god forsaken part of the State where for miles and miles with nothing but a curvy road and trees. We finally realized we were not going to arrive at our destination that night and therefore stop and slept to rise at sunrise to complete our journey to the North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac.
In the olden days before GPS, Tim was excellent with directions and was kind of cocky in the whole adventure in that he had some Boy Scout experience in his past. He got us to exactly where we needed to be and driving slowly driving through the ruts on this farm, we come upon the Pig Man. An older gentleman who certainly could have been cast in the film we were emulating. He had a walking stick and hogs of various sizes at his side and heel. He kind of looked like a Biblical shepherd in bib overalls and pigs instead of sheep This is what we were talking about, up with those dueling banjos. We had arrived to sort of a shell of a modular house with one big room with bunk beds and a kitchen and a porch that overlooked why I assumed was the North Fork of the South Branch of the Potomac. I was still exhausted after the drive as was Fitz, the two of us decided to have beer for breakfast while the Boy Scout was eager to get to the stream to catch our dinner.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but I really didn't want to make the effort to walk through the woods down a very steep bank just to see water.
By noon, Tim the Angler had returned from his fishing empty handed and a little despondent of that fact, so we suggested he join in our beer brunch and since it was noon and to raise his spirt to add bourbon to the bill of fare.
As Tim accepted our suggestion, Fitz and I felt that we should find something outdoorsy to do, that wasn't that strenuous or involve briars, snakes, or breaking a sweat.
Tim, our Navigator informed us we were in the George Washington National Forest and there was a fire road that ran through it and perhaps a drive in the Blazer would get us the correct closeness to nature.
Since Tim had done his fishing, he felt that his outdoor commitment was met and it would be better that he extend his beer and bourbon brunch and take a nap.
So in the days before GPS and with only some sketchy map that Tim had provided Fitz and I hopped in the truck and headed deeper into the woods.
We got on the narrow dirt road that went through the forrest. We drove and drove and drove. It was like we were on a treadmill. It all looked the same dirt road and dense timber. Finally we came upon a sign of life, which was literally a sign informing us we were now in the Commonwealth of Virginia. This wasn't good.
We found a wide enough space to turn around the vehicle and head back into what we felt was the direction back to the camp. we had been gone for hours, seen no wildlife except trees. It was beginning to get dark and the four wheel drive was getting dangerously low on fuel. No compass, before cell phones, it looked like we could be in real trouble. We of course knew Tim was back at the cabin and was aware we probably didn't want to have been gone that long. But he had no communication either.
After dark and with very little gasoline left we were able to find our way back to the camp, somewhat traumatized with our adventure and with no fish, we were left with the choice of dinner that night or breakfast the next morning. There was no electricity in the building only gas and kerosene lamps, so there was really nothing to do but get to sleep early.
Sunday morning we woke to Tim the Boy Scout preparing eggs and fried summer sausage which we ate on the porch and as most food tastes better outdoors, we were sure this was probably the best breakfast we had ever eaten and certainly compensated for the previous days lack of a catch.
We also after 24 hours there started discussing what the first thing we wanted to do as soon as we got back into civilization. I had noticed rural delivery boxes for the Washington Post nearby, the Sunday issue was what I first wanted, and knew it wouldn't take long to get one where a wish for almost anything else was going to require reaching Elkins, which was going to be at least three hours away.
We packed up and headed out of the hollow long before noon and headed west toward Parkersburg. I stole a Sunday Washington Post out of one of the boxes and we stopped in Elkins and took in the civilization.
From then on we only had the recollections of our Deliverance trip, not the desire to do it again.
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