Wild and scenic

by aramatzne@gmail.com | 1 May 2023 | Musing, Roads Taken

21 April 2023  camp, XXX Wild and Scenic River

Gorgeous blue New Mexico day. Blustery winds, high river, mud red as it flows below the height of Wall on the northeast side of camp. We put in on Wednesday, unloading gear, pumping up rafts and inflatable kayaks. Loading gear and tying down water, toilet, dry bags, coolers, food. And off, high snowmelt, high wind, blue sky. Herons and ducks, vultures, red rock, bluffs, and walls climbing from the river to the mesas above. Ponderosas, juniper, piñon, slot canyons, side canyons, water always flowing. The first night, a late partial solar eclipse somewhere, and in the morning, I climbed the wall to find the sun before anyone else awoke. I could see across rows of mesa cliffs and upriver, along the canyon above the rapids where we would start the day’s float. A ponderosa eked out an existence on a boulder, mid-river, at the head of the rapids. Water, rock, tree mark time: eternal river time, canyon time, life time.

Tear down camp, load gear, lock it down, move on, another day’s float. Below the walls of red and ochre, tuff or sandstone, blue sky, green ponderosas, and the faint hint of spring among the willows, the sun strong and brilliant, the air cold and the wind biting. Tailwind, headwind, river turn, no wind, headwind, river bend, tailwind. Rapids, rocks, high water snow melt, cold water biting through sun.

Dead elk, antler standing true against river boulder, waves breaking and flowing over the skull, parted by the forehead, rounded above the boulder by the rib cage no longer full of life, full of breath. Canada geese shifting along the bank, starting, flying, swimming, laying their long necks into a kinked line, thinking themselves invisible. Geese with downy nests in open rock crevices above the water, brooding alcoves like so many bees in honeycomb. Cliff walls full of cliff swallow nests. Globes of mud and spit held together against the rock, entry tunnels extending out, open to returning parents.

The accompanying dog running on the bank, climbing aboard a kayak, jumping off again, running the islands, swimming the channels, shaking out on the next beach to be picked up, and packed along again. Once running to the tip of an island only to startle a goose off its nest flush with the grasses, flushed from the grasses, eggs uncovered, dog disinterested, into the water for the next kayak stop pickup.

Rafts swirling forward, backward, around, flowing with the current, working against the wind, with the wind, in no wind, the water moving on, no time to waste, no time to pause. So much sky, so many walls, so many ponderosas. Layers of clothing on, layers off. Sun, wind, no sun, too much wind. Jacket on, hat off, gloves, socks, wind jacket, no jacket. The endless string of pieces shed, and pieces returned to their appropriate body parts. Lunch stop, sun, no wind, rest, warm, eat, laugh. Push off, float, float, float again farther. Hold the water, an impossible task, follow the course, fill your space, fill your soul with red mud water, blue sky, ochre and red walls, green ponderosas. Flow on, flow on.