Straight Out of Deliverance

Last Saturday morning started out as a wonderful weekend morning.  I slept in and awoke to  Brian in the kitchen asking me with enthusiasm, “Can I make you waffles?” as he simultaneously hands me a cup of coffee.  I accept both the coffee and the waffles with groggy gratitude and, with a sleepy smile on my face, tell him I love him.  


We’re talking postcard morning, right?


After breakfast, we decide to go on a hike.  We’d like to check out a new hiking area, but not travel too far out of town.  Thankfully, Eugene and the surrounding area is conducive to that.  The Coburg Hills look like the perfect option for this morning.  We print off some mapquest directions, throw some Clif bars in a backpack and are out the door in no time.  


We are headed to a nearby town called Marcola.  People stereotypically hear dueling banjos in their head any time “Marcola” rolls off the tongue.  It’s home to beautiful landscape, and in general, people who are content with the simple things in life.  



After running into a dead-end that mapquest suggested shouldn’t have been, we turned the car around and explored a little further.   It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining, the air was fresh and crisp, our windows were rolled down, and we were simply enjoying the scenery that is Oregon.  

We end up on Boiler Creek Road.  This road turns out to be another dead-end, in more ways than one.  


After reaching the end of the road, with no trailheads in sight, we turn the car around and continue on our way yet again.  About thirty seconds after heading back down Boiler Creek Road, a man suddenly appears out of nowhere in the middle of the road about 50 yards ahead of us.  Sort of odd, right?  The odder thing is that this mystery man proceeds to take a tree that had already been propped up against another on the side of the road, and lays it down over the road - yes, blocking us in.  Watching this transpire, my mind went from confusion to shock to fear in about five seconds.  In the spirit of the morning’s adventure, though, I turn to Brian with a curious smile on my face and say, “Well, looks like we’re about to meet a local!”  

This local happened to be a man in his gray-haired years, greasy and slicked back to almost reach his shoulders, wearing a poncho and some ratty cut-off khaki shorts and sandals.  His skin was tan and leathery, and his body moved in a way that suggested he’d been in the woods most of his life.  

As our car slows to a stop in front of the man’s strategically placed obstacle, Brian rolls down the window only to hear these words slung toward us “We take care of thieves on our own up here!  The police don’t come up here!” At that moment I realized I wasn’t the only person who felt afraid.

Thankfully, he wasn’t armed.  And, upon closer inspection, he actually had a soft look in his eye that comforted me.  

Brian and I did our best to assuage the man’s anxiety by explaining we were simply looking for a place to hike and nothing else.  He puffed his chest a little more with some wordplay, but at this point we knew he was harmless and just a little out of touch...

...and one hour later, he let us go.  

This whole experience was timely in the sense that we had just led a Bible study earlier in the week about responding to situations in life where our plans have been thwarted.  Do we say, “Damn it!” or do we say, “Sweet!”?  And if it’s the former, how do we share about that struggle with both God and the people in our lives in a balanced way?  

It turns out that the mystery man’s name is Tom Brandt, and he is an old logger and artisan.  At one point he even ran for Lane County Commissioner. Despite our less-than-aggressive attempts to work our way out of the conversation and OFF of Boiler Creek Road, he kept talking...and the tree stayed in place in front of us.  

We heard all about his land, his story, his passion (albeit misguided) for effecting change in “The Man’s” relationship with the land, and running down thieves off his property.  I don’t even remember all he said, only that the whole time I was thinking two things: 1. This man is lonely. & 2. How do we get him to take that tree down without making him angry? 

I’m sure Tom Brandt, our said “plan thwarter”, has no idea that in his odd way, he is allowing people the opportunity to practice some flexibility.  Thanks for that Tom...really glad to be stretched in that way and come out unscathed!

Anyway, inside Brian and I were definitely both saying “Damn it!” on some level to this quirky glitch being thrown into our plans.  What resonated more with us, though, was how lonely this crazy kook must really be.  Even though he took away our morning of hiking, we had to believe our listening ears were more important for him than a hike would have been for our legs that particular morning...or at least that’s what we’re telling ourselves, damn it.

How would you have responded to dear old Tom Brandt?  Do tell!