One morning we stopped at Dead Equine Point for a view of the canyon, and I saw far below me, Famous Muddy River. Just a few years ago, I spend 16 days on that river. We rafted miles every day, going through rapids that soaked us and long stretches of sun that heated us through. We hiked the side canyons, often to a waterfall that fed into the river. Several times each day, I'd duck my whole head into the icy muddy water so that my wet hair could keep me cool. And at night, I slept on the bank, letting the sound of the river into my dreams. Looking down to catch a glimpse of the brown water rushing between reddish cliffs was like getting to hug an old friend I hadn't seen in a few years.
2 comments:
We have a friend in common.
My Dad, my brother and I made that journey a year and a half ago.
We became as one, we three and the river. I never knew the stars could offer enough light to see by, or that bats could fly by day, or that rocks could tell such poetry.
were you there before or after the big intentional flooding?
Post a Comment