Took the ducky out today on the river. White water for me is the quintessential nemesis. It had rained a bit last night, then earlier today this huge storm pounded the area with hail, thunder and lightening.
I was about a mile down river heading towards the rougher currents and a tricky undercut to my right. The water table was higher than usual because of the rain, the probability of crashing into the ceiling of the undercut was greater than safely passing without getting flipped in the developing hole to my left.
The decision to bail and take out was necessary. I decided to walk the way down past this area and relaunch for my safety. No one knew I had attempted the river today and going it alone was certainly stupid. Obviously I made it out because I'm here typing...
Inflatable ducks are so heavy, even my streamlined version weighs about 36 pounds and after exertion, fok it's... deadly torture.
I guess I'm a glutton for punishment and the feeling of danger. It didn't matter that it was heavy or that I was alone and potentially in danger. 8 more miles to go down stream was what I continued to tell myself as I trudged through the wet forest.
After about 10 minuets of walking I arrived at a point past the bony where the water had calmed down. The next set of heavy rapids would be aproximately 2 miles down. The calmness of the water after treacherous encounters is humbling. You must be alert and never assume that the water ahead is the same.
After a quick refreshing break, replenishing my self with a light snack and some hydration I decided to peel out. The pace of the water swiftly carried me onward. Luckily, those last few miles gave me just what I had been looking for. That nerve tingling sensation. It's almost like ice hitting my veins. Every stroke, every breath, is life or death. Although the worst of it was behind me I still longed for that danger. I feel so alive when faced with uncertainty. And when I prevail it is as if I am reborn.
The veil between this dimension and the next is easier to cross into when it's just me, my yak and the water. Ritualistic magik would best describe it. Each paddle stroke is an incantation; weaving my spell into the water. The river is my dearest friend and my foe. Our dance is spiritual.
I respect, honor and love her; and she allows me to fill my cup. No matter how much I test mother river I remain humble. She can change her mind about me and my antics at any time. Instead she reveals her most powerful beauty and her secrets. I've discovered many caves from the past lives of the indigenous people who inhabited the land in my travels downstream.As a forager she has gifted me the ability to harvest, propogate herbs and identify specimines I'd only read about in books.
Today was a good day. And if I were to pass on permanently into the next dimension it would certainly have been a good death.
I am happy though to still be alive... There's another chance to test my limits that I get to experience.
A'ho⚡️⚡️⚡️
