Our boats at Triplet Falls campsite, in the calm water above the cascade that is the falls.
Yesterday late afternoon when I returned from the river, after I had shaken the sand out of my gear, sorted through mail and email and phone messages, and dealt with an urgent problem, I said to myself, “I’ll haul up on the couch and write a blog post.”
My inner voice responded, “Remember the resolve you made on the river?”
Oh yeah. The one about not pushing when I’m exhausted. “I’ll write from the couch with my feet up,” I responded. “That’s restful.” (Not that I was arguing, mind you, just discussing.)
My inner voice didn’t bother pointing out that I had driven most of the way across the state that day and then unpacked and done a load of laundry, or that the float and the drive along roads I last traveled with Richard on our Big Trip had been emotional, or that a well-written blog post takes me at least three hours….
Oh no. My inner voice knows me well. It simply flipped from words to body language. In moments my right temple felt like an ice pick was piercing it, my finger joints throbbed, and my balance was shot.
Huh. I hauled up on the couch and actually rested.
And after a while, I felt better.
That little incident nicely corroborates what four days of floating the Green River reminded me about fear and trust.
The word ring attached to my waterproof notebook
It started with the word-ring exercise I gave the group the night before the trip. I handed out one- by three-inch manila cards with a hole punched in one end of them, plus metal rings to attach them to our waterproof journals, and placed packages of colored markers in the center of the circle.
The assignment: write a word (or words) on one card in watercolor marker that represents something you want to leave behind on the float, and write another word on a different card in waterproof markers to stand for something you want to take away from the trip. We would then dip the cards with watercolor ink in the river and let the water wash away what we wanted to leave behind.
As the group chose markers and wrote and embellished their cards, I thought for about a nano-second.
Then I picked out a yellow watercolor marker for one word, and an aqua-blue waterproof one for the other. I carefully wrote “fear” in the yellow marker on one card, underlining it with crashing black rapids, and “trust” in aqua-blue on the other, outlining the letters with blue and green swirls.
Gates of Lodore, where the Green River begins slicing its way through the Unitah Mountains in Dinosaur National Monument, a “foreboding” view, as .
That pretty much sums up the why of this float-trip for me: it was time to let go of my fear of whitewater, my grief about my friend Carol’s drowning death, and to remind myself of what I love about running rivers: riding the muscly flow of the water itself, absorbing the quiet; the chance to see majestic canyons only accessible by river, the time “away” to think and just be; the yee-haw, bow-slapping fun of it, the look at the desert from the inside; the sound of canyon wrens trilling from impossible cliff perches and the sight of bighorn sheep kids tip-toeing down to drink.
Over four days, the river and sun and water worked their magic on me, with the help of our excellent guides from Adrift Adventures and a truly sympatico group gathered by Colorado Art Ranch.
Braving Butt Dam Falls, named for the narrow channel above that can be dammed by a couple of well-placed butts, and then the flow released in a breath-taking “whoosh!”
Oh, there were some scary moments (I will never be a thrill-seeking River Girl, and that’s okay), and some lonely moments—Richard would have loved this trip, dammit! There were some wet times, not just from the river; it actually hailed and rained on us the first afternoon, and then there was that shower in Butt Dam Falls.
The ceremony in Carol’s memory at our campsite at Triplet Falls reduced both her husband Terry and me to tears. (Terry, a long-time boatman, was rowing the raft through Triplet three summers ago when it flipped, and everyone made it safely out except Carol.) But it was healing too.
On the final day of our float, I slipped from the raft and swam alongside for a few minutes, letting the river cradle me, truly going with its flow. When I hauled myself back on board, I looked back at our string of rafts and saw Terry rowing, his hands sure on the oars, a huge smile splitting his face.
Taking our fears to the river and letting the water wash them away seems to have been a powerful beginning.
The slide show below gives a sense of those four days on the Green River. It’s in no particular order, so just click through and let the river’s magic carry you.
Susan, what a lovely report of our trip! Such fun to see your photos too–reminding me as I look out on our sagebrush backdrop of the spectacular scenery we passed through, the camaradarie of our group, and all the knowledge you imparted to us. One of my cards said “knowledge” and you fulfilled that wish in so many ways. We loved spending time with you, getting to know you better, and share the joys and tears of our journey.
Did you see the photos of you and Gerry in the slide show? I’ll send copies to you in email now that I’m back from my all-morning meeting (which, interestingly enough, was about balancing flows on the Arkansas River between what we need to keep the river and the trout fishery healthy, and what the rafting community needs to keep their businesses profitable–it was a very contentious meeting, and I pissed off one of the raft-company owners by pointing out that the river is not an assembly line for fish as he seems to think, it’s an ecosystem and its health impacts his business too). One of the treats of the trip was having you and Gerry along. I’m glad I could be part of fulfilling your knowledge card!
Welcome home. Perhaps some day I’ll be able to take a multi-day rafting trip. I can’t say what words I would have word-ringed, but Fear and Trust each, both, would belong. (Hmmm… Perhaps I need to do the exercise anyway, nevermind it’s being on dry land.)
Too, I’ll want to reread your essay, from What Wildness Is This?, about a years-back float/writing trip; and also, Pam Houston’s, “A River Runs Through Them,” from another anthology.
May you continue finding ways to slip into river-time.
Eduardo, I think you’d find a lot to love about riding rivers if you have the chance to ever go on a multi-day trip. You might not want to do it in a high-water year though.
And yes, the words to live by exercise is a very good one to do. I use it with all of my writing workshops, and it’s a very powerful exercise. Enjoy the reading!
Hi Susan! It just occurred to me, looking at your photos, that that’s something I’ll probably never do. At some point you start crossing things off your “list”–and it’s sort of sad, but I’ve lived a little bit of what it’s like through your writing and photos. Thank you! Happy trails! bobbi c.
Bobbi, I think of it as more honing in on what’s most important, and that “what’s most important” changes over the different parts of our lives. If you really wanted to run a river, you could and would. It wouldn’t be easy, but you’d find a way. The gift of getting older is recognizing that no, we can’t do everything, and realizing that we thus have the “freedom” in a sense of focusing on just what is most important to us and not feeling like we have to do everything anymore…. Hope you and Rudy are enjoying the rain!
I agree with Bobbi that at some point we just start crossing things off our lists – although white water rafting was never ON my list! How brave of you to return, Susan. And the photos are just great. At first I didn’t see the person in the falls (there is a person, right?), and then I did: eerily beautiful.
Lynda, You’re right that it took a lot of courage, and thanks for recognizing that and commenting. I wasn’t sure what it would feel like to raft the falls where Carol died, much less raft them with her husband who was rowing the boat that overturned and flipped her into the water, where she drowned. But in the end, it felt right. We honored her life, and her great love of life itself and all it brings us, by running the river and taking the time to remember her life and death right there on the sandbar above Triplet Falls. That felt very sad, but very right. And yes, there is a person in the falls–me!
Fear and Trust. Two powerful words–words that you lived by on the river. You confronted fear by allowing that word to be ‘washed away’ from the beginning of the float, then you were able to put trust in all things going forward. It is a courageous way to give in to the river that has been all things beautiful, scary, and sad for you. The memorial in Carol’s memory must have been a powerful and healing way to let go and feel good about being there. Pleasure and pain, water rushing, majestic canyons–and the sounds, just listening to nature is freedom. Thank you for sharing these memorable moments and wonderful photos. I especially love the picture of you in Butt Dam Falls–standing strong, allowing the water to cleanse, the joy of living in the moment–wow! Good for you Susan!
Robin, I think the power of that intention, to let the river and the journey on it wash away my fear, was what carried my through the trip in a way that allowed me to let in the joy. As for Butt Dam Falls, it’s funny: I didn’t intend to stand under the water, but as I watched others do it (I was one of the butts fitting into that sinuous channel in the rock and holding back the water, and that in itself was great fun!), I realized it was something Richard would have loved and would have been among the first to volunteer to do. So I screwed up my courage and my trust, and did it. That seemingly small act was a big step for me.
I’ve always been a water person and love this journey of yours on the river. Thanks! Life changes have keept me out of the loop lately and I’ve not been following the list serv. Yours is the first I’ve responded to in some time. Hope now to stay connected with all of you again.
Eunice, Thank you for checking in. I’ve thought of you several times recently and wondered if all was well. I hope those life changes you mention are positive ones, or at least that you’re able to find the positive side of them if possible. Take care of you! Susan
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hi susan, i’m playing catch-up over here and thought it time to say hi. this trip. well. it looks amazing. i remember reading your writing about it, knowing i would still be traveling, and dreaming how wonderful it would be.
It was an amazing trip, Velma. Not easy, nor simple either, but definitely one full of inspiration and illumination….
Susan, what a remarkable experience and good for you! I noticed you labeled your notebook waterproof? What does that mean? Did you do it yourself or can you purchase it that way? I don’t river raft but I do love my beach and pool time! :>) Jude
Jude, the waterproof notebooks come from Write in the Rain (http://www.riteintherain.com/category.asp?id={F4FBD93A-C9A3-44ED-9ED2-886394E465D1}) and as you’ll see at the page that Greek links to, they sell a variety of notebooks with “all-weather” paper, which means they can get wet and not smear. We used pencils on the river, since not all ink is waterproof itself. I don’t think the notebooks are expensive, so you might order one for your pool and beach time, and try it out. Have fun writing by the water!
Hi, Susan. Gay and I were on the Green in June with the Great Old Broads for Wildnerness. It is terrible that your friend drowned on the river! I will give a second and third thought to our next river trip.
Love,
Dick
Dick, I’m glad that you and Gay floated the Green with GOBW! And thank you for your sympathy. Carol died three years ago in a freak accident in Triplet Falls on the Green. The boat flipped and everyone went into the water; only she didn’t make it out. She had asthma, and it’s likely that her heart stopped the instant she hit the water. Terrible, but life. You know how it is…. I wouldn’t let it keep you and Gay from enjoying river trips. Blessings, Susan
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