After sunset, the canoes leading the way seem to disappear. Floating tree limbs tease the morbid imagination. An otherwise romantic activity somehow morphs into a battle against dozens of low-flying bats.

Yet when followed by a bluegrass band, bonfire and s’mores, the Moonlight Canoe Tours at Hocking Hills are a unique way to enjoy late summer bliss.

These opportunities are limited by the full-moon cycle, with only one tour offered this month, on September 17th.

Reservations are “highly recommended,” but experience is not. As a self-professed waiver-form pundit, I can confidently say that the one for moonlight canoeing was one of the least trepidatious. The most disconcerting risk (aside from drowning, I suppose) was that the guide was apparently not responsible, should we become lost.

This made more sense when we launched into the river. The only time we saw the guide was when he shoved us into the water. Aside from the other 20 or so canoe-ists joining us, we were on our own.

The Venture Begins

Canoes can carry two to three passengers. Choosing your partner is the first survival challenge.

I ventured to the Hocking Hills with three others. Although none of us had the wherewithal to remember insect repellent, someone said that dryer sheets make an adequate substitute. After rubbing Bounce’s soapy formula over our skin and buckling ourselves into ominously damp lifejackets, we loaded the camp bus and traveled to a beach five miles upstream.

“You ready?” were the only words of advice our guide gave before he shoved us into the sunset.

Canoe Stylings

Two classes of canoers quickly emerged: those steering full steam ahead … and those crashing into everything possible.

My partner Will and I began as the former. We cleared low-hanging brush unscathed and conquered rapid shallows with grace. Our friends, Jackie and Jenna, however, took a less conventional approach: every time we turned around to peek at their progress, they were facing the wrong way, ducking wildly to avoid decapitation, or walking alongside the boat during particularly tricky tracts. Will and I quickly converted to their more adventurous style.

Our maritime bravado was confirmed when we investigated what appeared to be part of a dead body.

In the distance, lodged under a fallen log, a red orb was bobbing. The skin-like covering was covered with a thin film of mud. Even from a distance, the demise of this creature appeared to have been an unpleasant one.

Jackie and Jenna screamed their disgust as we reached the mysterious blob. It was light and easy to balance on the paddle. It was a plastic bag containing an orange hoodie and green shirt.

“What is it?” Jenna asked.

“River treasure,” we replied, fancying ourselves pirates.

For the first of the two hours, the activity was visual perfection. Tiny mollusk shells were visible through the clear shallow water. A chorus of birds and insects serenaded visitors. The exposed roots of the trees lining the riverbank looked like thick dark fingers dipping into the cleansing water.

River Monsters

As the sunlight dimmed, the peaceful journey became a paranoid venture from under the forest’s shadows.

The gnats near the water’s surface were nearly invisible at first, yet invaded our nostrils as they congregated in ever-denser masses. The encroaching bats were initially ravenous saviors, until their hungry mouths began flying perilously close to our own.

The balls of lightning exploding in the heavy clouds a few miles away added to the ominous waterscape. We began discussing whether the tall trees above or the electrically conductive water all around us were the more likely to be struck.

To make matters worse, we fantasized cannibals lurking along the river’s edge, ready to leap into our boats. I mentally prepared for a hypothetical battle against mud mutants. I even considered any ulterior survivalist purposes for the River Treasure.

Then, the four of us realized we were alone.

We had seen a large group steer left when we went straight, but we figured that was a different tour. Minutes later, we didn’t seem to be part of any tour at all.

Fortunately, just as our arms began to feel the effects of the five-mile escapade, we heard the banjos.

“Did you have fun?” the guide asked, helping us back onto land.

Considering our survival was rewarded with bearded men playing live music around a bonfire, I’d say yes.

P.S. Let me know if you’re missing an orange hoodie or a green shirt.

WHERE TO BE AN ADVENTURIST:

Hocking Hills Canoe Livery
12789 State Route 664 South, Logan
To make a reservation, call (800) 634-6820
www.hockingriver.com/moon.htm