Last week my number went from one, to two.
"I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name..."
-Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson
The moon as big as I'd ever seen it tucked inside the clouds like a sleeping bag hanging behind the jagged silhouettes of the pines above the mountains.
West Virginia
driving in the night to reach the cabin get away before the next days wrestling match with the river.
Pulling on to Jamie and Linda's land unpacking and setting up my tent in the dark.
Methodically and systematically connecting the tent poles, threading them through the eyes of the shapeless pile of cloth, slowly it begins to take shape, my bedroom for the night. I clip on the rain cover and zip myself inside.
Stars as bright as they can get the moon so bright it almost feels like day. The bugs making their sounds for purpose and reason I don't know, they join in the chorus of their ancestors. Entire communities, universes above my tent on leaves, unnoticed.
The morning comes, as it always does. I sit up and begin to come back to life. There is no better morning than waking in a tent. I pull and flick the walls of my tent as I watch the drops of last nights rain slide down the sides of the rain cover. Water in this small amount these tiny peaceful drops it seems so harmless, so calm.
I unzip stand up and greet the day. I can already smell the coffee from the cabin and the breakfast isn't far behind.
The clang of tin cups the steam of the coffee dancing like a genie out of the rim.
I sit among the native West Virginia crowd, these people have been down this river more times than I could imagine, They know every rock, every bend, every rapid. They light up their pipes and roll their joints for the days trip down the river.
I absolutely love this morning. These are a people well rooted in their place. They have a love and a respect for that river I will never know. The river gives them memories, entertainment, beauty, it's a gathering place, it's a story generator. It is their river and it's beautiful to be among this crowd listening and joining in on the jokes.
We load up the coolers of beer and lunch as we jump in and take our positions in the raft. The sun is hot on my skin and the life vest draws the sweat from the pours of my body down the back of my spine. The splash and slosh of the paddles bring the cool refreshing river water to me.
Surrounded by beauty. Trees on either side of me as far as my eyes can relay the message back to my brain, This river, what nothing but water and time can do to a place, it's magnificent. The unique and original twists and turns of the river form a landscape too beautiful for words. Only overwhelming 'ah's can accurately describe how my eyes make my heart feel.
"give me two forward"
Jamie hollers out as our bodies move forward and back with forcing the oars through the gentle river current.
We approach our first rapid, the white water churns and kicks against the rocks and bends on the river. My heart begins to pick up I feel my mouth begin to grin and I find myself excited, I grip my paddle lean forward anxious for my commands. I want to feel the strength of this river. I want to feel the power of nature. So often have we built our cities, our lives in these safe zones. We have killed all the wolves, pushed back all the bears, destroyed the homes of all the lions, We have made this country safe. But here is a timeless reminder of what it means to live on this planet. What it means to be human. Here is raging white water, there is no guarantee of safety, there is no highway paved through the river to make it flat and even, no this is God's creation in all of its beauty and all of its might. We can experience its strength but if we do not respect it or if we find ourselves thinking we are above danger or death reality will come tumbling upon us pinning my body beneath rocks denying my lungs the next breath they so desperately need in order for my existence to prolong upon this rock flying through space.
My mind flashes back five years ago to my first experience on this river, I remember the fear, the anxiety the uncertainty in my own self.
Now I find myself with a big smile on my face as we dip into the boiling pot of white water. Those tiny calm drops on the outside of my tent this morning, the same fluid that is now threatening to take my life. How strange the difference circumstances create. We make it through the first rapid I whip my head around to look back on what we just paddled through, The river is absolutely beautiful. I want to linger longer, I want to stay and soak in the moment, but the river, like time, does not and cannot stop, for no one and no reason, Time and the river, goes on.
We link up with the other rafts wedge ourselves in some rocks along the side of the river, the group passes a couple joints and we all crack open our beers. The tingling feeling of carbonated alcohol in my mouth, the tiny imitation of the white water rapids foaming out the top of the shaken up can tossed to me from the cooler, I almost missed this trip. This was the weekend she was supposed to move back to Ohio to finish school. I had the weekend completely open to help her move back, ready to fly there and help drive back. But I guess just like how this river wore its way down to the bottom of these mountains, everything changes, people, like mountains, change over time.
We unhook our rafts and shove off. I tuck my can of beer in the neck of my vest as we approach the next rapid. Class after class we conquer each rapid, some we hit sideways, some backwards, Each of them completely beautiful, powerful, and exhilarating.
We hook up our rafts near a spot called the Colosseum, a jagged rock face that offers us opportunity to sit and enjoy our lunch with a great view of the river in our ancient roman-esque stadium seating. More beers and lunch meats, sandwiches, chips, and laughter. I can't get enough of how rooted these people are to this river. Each raft guide that passes by with a group of tourists is known by a river nickname as they shout back and forth to each other. A community I am greatly envious of.
Between the rapids we were pushing and tackling each other off the raft into the water. Sitting and waiting for someone not paying attention until suddenly I lunge at them from across the raft tackling them into the water as the other rafts roar with laughter then someone else gets shoved in shortly after.
We approached a rapid called thread the needle, white water between two big rocks, Jamie calls out this is a swimmers rapid if you want in go now. My heart races, I have to give this a try. I lean back and splash into the water. He tells me to keep my feet up so I don't get caught and pulled under by the rocks and swim between the two rocks. I go ahead of the raft and the water begins to pick up the pace. My body is pulled between the two rocks and I gasp for air in between the crests. The waves attempt to dash me against one of the rocks I pump my arms and kick my feet. My body has to beat this rapid, thrown against the rock isn't an option. I can't help but feel a bit like Paul Maclean in A River Runs Through It when he is pulled down the river by the enormous trout, I absolutely loved it.
We finished up with another class 5 after passing under the amazing New River bridge. Afterwards we packed up the gear changed into our dry clothes and it the bar for some shots, more drinking. That night after the smoked chicken dinner and all the story telling I sat by the fire letting the slack out for my mind to wander as it always does. What a beautiful day. I am exhausted and I can't wait to hit the pillow in my tent.
The next morning my body was soak all over, I like that feeling in my muscles the pain that lets you know you used your body well the previous day. That's how my body felt that summer I landscaped, hauling barrows of gravel for hours, digging piles of soil one shovel scoop at a time, I'm thankful my body hurts. I tear down my tent in the rain between the downpours and head over for breakfast. Jamie and I are sitting next to each other and he starts talking about his daughter. The last time I was on the river was her first time on the river. In fact her name is River, I love that name. It shows just how important those rapids in West Virginia mean to the people rooted here. Jamie gushes over River, his mouth succumbs to a smirk and it's clear that his brain is flashing memories though his mind of how he loves his daughter.
I loved listening to him talk about his daughter. I don't often get to hear a father talk about their child the way Jamie talks about River. I talk to parents everyday at the preschool but none get this weight to their words like this. He talked about when they hiked 10 miles in the grand canyon. He talked about the lessons he's tried to teach her, tried to introduce her to the world she's been ushered into.
I think about the love and respect Jamie has for the rivers of West Virginia, I think about the way he talks about his wife as she guides the raft ahead of ours, the way he smiles when he keeps proclaiming that he's going to go pick up his daughter today after everyone leaves.
The river is beautiful, the mountains are indescribable, West Virginia is a gorgeous place, and it is so fun to camp and cook and share with people around him, but when he thinks about his daughter everything else just turns vanilla and my heart really, really respects that.
In the end it isn't about a place, it isn't about mountains, it isn't about an experience, it isn't about a goal. What good are the rapids, what good is that river without the community, with sharing in it with those who know you and are known by you? It's about family, it's about the people we love, the ones who know us, it's about the ones who want to do life with us and the ones we want to do life with. That's home.
Take me home.
John Denver - Take Me Home, Country Roads
"I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: All times I have enjoy'd
Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vext the dim sea: I am become a name..."
-Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson
The moon as big as I'd ever seen it tucked inside the clouds like a sleeping bag hanging behind the jagged silhouettes of the pines above the mountains.
West Virginia
driving in the night to reach the cabin get away before the next days wrestling match with the river.
Pulling on to Jamie and Linda's land unpacking and setting up my tent in the dark.
Methodically and systematically connecting the tent poles, threading them through the eyes of the shapeless pile of cloth, slowly it begins to take shape, my bedroom for the night. I clip on the rain cover and zip myself inside.
Stars as bright as they can get the moon so bright it almost feels like day. The bugs making their sounds for purpose and reason I don't know, they join in the chorus of their ancestors. Entire communities, universes above my tent on leaves, unnoticed.
The morning comes, as it always does. I sit up and begin to come back to life. There is no better morning than waking in a tent. I pull and flick the walls of my tent as I watch the drops of last nights rain slide down the sides of the rain cover. Water in this small amount these tiny peaceful drops it seems so harmless, so calm.
I unzip stand up and greet the day. I can already smell the coffee from the cabin and the breakfast isn't far behind.
The clang of tin cups the steam of the coffee dancing like a genie out of the rim.
I sit among the native West Virginia crowd, these people have been down this river more times than I could imagine, They know every rock, every bend, every rapid. They light up their pipes and roll their joints for the days trip down the river.
I absolutely love this morning. These are a people well rooted in their place. They have a love and a respect for that river I will never know. The river gives them memories, entertainment, beauty, it's a gathering place, it's a story generator. It is their river and it's beautiful to be among this crowd listening and joining in on the jokes.
We load up the coolers of beer and lunch as we jump in and take our positions in the raft. The sun is hot on my skin and the life vest draws the sweat from the pours of my body down the back of my spine. The splash and slosh of the paddles bring the cool refreshing river water to me.
Surrounded by beauty. Trees on either side of me as far as my eyes can relay the message back to my brain, This river, what nothing but water and time can do to a place, it's magnificent. The unique and original twists and turns of the river form a landscape too beautiful for words. Only overwhelming 'ah's can accurately describe how my eyes make my heart feel.
"give me two forward"
Jamie hollers out as our bodies move forward and back with forcing the oars through the gentle river current.
We approach our first rapid, the white water churns and kicks against the rocks and bends on the river. My heart begins to pick up I feel my mouth begin to grin and I find myself excited, I grip my paddle lean forward anxious for my commands. I want to feel the strength of this river. I want to feel the power of nature. So often have we built our cities, our lives in these safe zones. We have killed all the wolves, pushed back all the bears, destroyed the homes of all the lions, We have made this country safe. But here is a timeless reminder of what it means to live on this planet. What it means to be human. Here is raging white water, there is no guarantee of safety, there is no highway paved through the river to make it flat and even, no this is God's creation in all of its beauty and all of its might. We can experience its strength but if we do not respect it or if we find ourselves thinking we are above danger or death reality will come tumbling upon us pinning my body beneath rocks denying my lungs the next breath they so desperately need in order for my existence to prolong upon this rock flying through space.
My mind flashes back five years ago to my first experience on this river, I remember the fear, the anxiety the uncertainty in my own self.
Now I find myself with a big smile on my face as we dip into the boiling pot of white water. Those tiny calm drops on the outside of my tent this morning, the same fluid that is now threatening to take my life. How strange the difference circumstances create. We make it through the first rapid I whip my head around to look back on what we just paddled through, The river is absolutely beautiful. I want to linger longer, I want to stay and soak in the moment, but the river, like time, does not and cannot stop, for no one and no reason, Time and the river, goes on.
We link up with the other rafts wedge ourselves in some rocks along the side of the river, the group passes a couple joints and we all crack open our beers. The tingling feeling of carbonated alcohol in my mouth, the tiny imitation of the white water rapids foaming out the top of the shaken up can tossed to me from the cooler, I almost missed this trip. This was the weekend she was supposed to move back to Ohio to finish school. I had the weekend completely open to help her move back, ready to fly there and help drive back. But I guess just like how this river wore its way down to the bottom of these mountains, everything changes, people, like mountains, change over time.
We unhook our rafts and shove off. I tuck my can of beer in the neck of my vest as we approach the next rapid. Class after class we conquer each rapid, some we hit sideways, some backwards, Each of them completely beautiful, powerful, and exhilarating.
We hook up our rafts near a spot called the Colosseum, a jagged rock face that offers us opportunity to sit and enjoy our lunch with a great view of the river in our ancient roman-esque stadium seating. More beers and lunch meats, sandwiches, chips, and laughter. I can't get enough of how rooted these people are to this river. Each raft guide that passes by with a group of tourists is known by a river nickname as they shout back and forth to each other. A community I am greatly envious of.
Between the rapids we were pushing and tackling each other off the raft into the water. Sitting and waiting for someone not paying attention until suddenly I lunge at them from across the raft tackling them into the water as the other rafts roar with laughter then someone else gets shoved in shortly after.
We approached a rapid called thread the needle, white water between two big rocks, Jamie calls out this is a swimmers rapid if you want in go now. My heart races, I have to give this a try. I lean back and splash into the water. He tells me to keep my feet up so I don't get caught and pulled under by the rocks and swim between the two rocks. I go ahead of the raft and the water begins to pick up the pace. My body is pulled between the two rocks and I gasp for air in between the crests. The waves attempt to dash me against one of the rocks I pump my arms and kick my feet. My body has to beat this rapid, thrown against the rock isn't an option. I can't help but feel a bit like Paul Maclean in A River Runs Through It when he is pulled down the river by the enormous trout, I absolutely loved it.
We finished up with another class 5 after passing under the amazing New River bridge. Afterwards we packed up the gear changed into our dry clothes and it the bar for some shots, more drinking. That night after the smoked chicken dinner and all the story telling I sat by the fire letting the slack out for my mind to wander as it always does. What a beautiful day. I am exhausted and I can't wait to hit the pillow in my tent.
The next morning my body was soak all over, I like that feeling in my muscles the pain that lets you know you used your body well the previous day. That's how my body felt that summer I landscaped, hauling barrows of gravel for hours, digging piles of soil one shovel scoop at a time, I'm thankful my body hurts. I tear down my tent in the rain between the downpours and head over for breakfast. Jamie and I are sitting next to each other and he starts talking about his daughter. The last time I was on the river was her first time on the river. In fact her name is River, I love that name. It shows just how important those rapids in West Virginia mean to the people rooted here. Jamie gushes over River, his mouth succumbs to a smirk and it's clear that his brain is flashing memories though his mind of how he loves his daughter.
I loved listening to him talk about his daughter. I don't often get to hear a father talk about their child the way Jamie talks about River. I talk to parents everyday at the preschool but none get this weight to their words like this. He talked about when they hiked 10 miles in the grand canyon. He talked about the lessons he's tried to teach her, tried to introduce her to the world she's been ushered into.
I think about the love and respect Jamie has for the rivers of West Virginia, I think about the way he talks about his wife as she guides the raft ahead of ours, the way he smiles when he keeps proclaiming that he's going to go pick up his daughter today after everyone leaves.
The river is beautiful, the mountains are indescribable, West Virginia is a gorgeous place, and it is so fun to camp and cook and share with people around him, but when he thinks about his daughter everything else just turns vanilla and my heart really, really respects that.
In the end it isn't about a place, it isn't about mountains, it isn't about an experience, it isn't about a goal. What good are the rapids, what good is that river without the community, with sharing in it with those who know you and are known by you? It's about family, it's about the people we love, the ones who know us, it's about the ones who want to do life with us and the ones we want to do life with. That's home.
Take me home.
John Denver - Take Me Home, Country Roads
