I awaken by the desire to drift on a lazy river someplace. Maybe it was remnants a of dream or just the instinctive desire to be near water. Whichever, I decide to head toward water. My ship is small but quite worthy; it will navigate the waters I have chosen. I gather my essentials and load my equipment…it is nice when your ship will easily fit in the back of a pick-up truck. My portage requires about 40 minutes of driving time to arrive at the water’s edge.
The air is lukewarm but it’s a beautiful morning under cloudy skies. The drive to the water is beautiful. It’s along a serpentine blacktop that traverses the countryside of one of the bordering counties. With the windows of the truck rolled down, I welcome the fragrance of spring. Ah yes, the aroma of fresh trees, flowers and fresh air.
Screeeeeeeeech….I quickly come to a stop in the road. What’s this? Something impedes my travels, a detour, and a long way around. Don’t they know? I need to get to the river. Well, it seems that there will be quite a few chickens that will not have to go the slaughter house. However, I believe the only survivor was the “chicken truck” driver.
Finally, I’m at the water’s edge. The river is flat, mirrored and inviting. Once on the water I paddle up stream to the bridge. It’s a very tall bridge from the boat. I paddle further to the see the remains of the old bridge, now nothing more than a wide column of rocks with trees growing from it. I would have loved to have seen the old bridge. I’m certain it was dignified in its day.
Just past the old bridge I encounter two Canada geese. They are squawking and honking in disapproval but otherwise ignore me. I spend approximately two and half hours on the water just drifting and paddling up and down stream. It has been a good morning. I needed that time on the water; the bond with nature was also needed. I will return.
If my ship sails from sight, it doesn't mean my journey ends; it simply means the river bends.