River Culture: Ephemeral River Art

Sandcastles of the River

I first met the Lone Kayaker many years ago as he was stacking rocks in the river. Moving slowly and deliberately about shin deep in the riverbed the short stack grew surprisingly quickly. The rocks, harvested from the riverbed where he stood, were tightly fitted forming a 4 foot tower - plum straight with four sharp corners. It was simple and beautiful ... and ultimately very temporary.

If you've floated the Dan River in the Hanging Rock State Park and Danbury, NC area over the past 15 years you've probably seen one.

While I didn't really need an explanation for his work (which I've helped with from time to time) he has provided a few different stories. Initially I understood them to be "Monuments to the River Gods" for the purpose of taunting the deities to knock them down with high water. This made sense for very practical reasons: paddling the river during low water is not so much fun ... and building stacks in the riverbed is really only possible during low water. Regardless the truth of mystical "River Gods," building massive and beautiful towers when the river is low and 'boney' is not a bad way to spend your downtime.

Since then he's given me a couple other explanations as you'll read here - in his own words:

I was on my way to the Dan River to go kayaking not so long ago and stopped at the Danbury General Store to get some snax to take with me. As I stood by the counter waiting for my turn I noticed a picture of a stack of rocks. I recognized the stack of rocks as being the Snake House on the Dan River at the Playwave. I also recognized it was the Snake House of 2013. I knew because I am the one who built it.

I reached over and picked up the picture. There was a whole stack of them. It was a 2016 calendar put out by the Stokes County Arts Council. At that moment time stood still and my mind raced back to that day in time.

It was early June. I was trying to get it built before June 21. I’ve built a Snake House on the river every year for so long I can’t remember them all. But that day in June 2013 I had paddled to the Playwave and was working on the Snake House. It was up to about 4 feet high when a man came floating down the river and paddled up to me. “Hey, I want to ask you something. Is that supposed to mean anything?” I could tell from the tone of his voice he wasn’t really interested in the stack of rocks. He was just wanting to be a smart ass.

Without even turning around I said, “Well, it falls on the Arcadian Layline.”

“The Arcadian Layline?” he said in a puzzled voice.

By then I was walking away from him picking up more rocks.

I said, “Yeah, you know like the Georgian Guidestones.”

I could tell he was more confused but not wanting to look stupid he said, “Oh, well I was just wondering cause I see it here every year.”

I could tell by his tone I had taken him down a notch. He floated away with a bruised ego and I went back to work. I try to avoid humans as much as possible due to evolution.

A short while later and several inches taller another man came along. He asked me what was I building? I said it was a water gauge. It gives me a reference point on the river during flood stage. He nodded like he understood.

The Snake House was about 5 feet tall and I was walking farther away to get rocks. Then a couple of locals from Dan River Shores came floating down. We knew each other so he and his mom hung out for a while. He asked me about the Snake House.

I told him I made a pact with the river snakes a long time ago. The said if I build them a house on the river every year they would reward me with artifacts. I try to be good to the snakes. After all it’s their river and they let us use it.

I took a break from stacking and stood there with Chris and his mom eating snax. Another man came along in his canoe. He said, “Hey, do you guys know what that thing is? It’s a Snake House! It’s full of snakes, you need to get away from that!” By the time he got it all said he was looking backwards at us and crashed into some rocks flipping his canoe over.

I looked at Chris and said another reason the Snake House is there is to warn people of the rocks ahead. And it gives people something to vandalize on their way down river. They like to impress their friends. Some people just like to bitch about it being there.

Chris and his mom left so I went back to work. It was getting late in the day and the Snake House was over six feet tall. I was putting the finishing touch to the crown when a man and woman came along in their kayaks.

“What are you building,” she asked.

“A lighthouse,”, I said.

“Of course it’s a lighthouse,” she said. “We’re in North Carolina.”

I told her, “When I’m out here at night time when the Snake House is lit up it is a beautiful sight. It looks medieval at night lit up by flame!”

Everyone has an opinion about the Snake House and I don’t care. The snakes love it and that’s all that matters. The lady pulled out her camera and stepped away. She took a picture of the Snake House and her husband asked me are you a stone mason? I shook my head no and said, “I stack rocks in the river. I attack wood with sharp objects, and I have all my fingers and toes.” ⇔+

As with an elaborate sandcastle at the beach which might take many hours of labor to complete only to be wiped clean by the daily tide - you don't build with the expectation that the work will survive long. The Lone Kayaker - from my personal observations - builds for the joy of the process and to create something of substance and beauty. Providing shelter for the river's water snakes adds a more tangible purpose. Teasing passersby is just a side benefit.

The appearance of permanence on a stage of constant change where creation and destruction are the closest of friends.

[NOTE: The Lone Kayaker - as he mentions in his story - is not a very social person and values his privacy above just about anything else. While many know his true identity I am honoring his artistic requirements.]