Wednesday, May 4, 2016
21 Days on the Colorado River: Kiss the Lip
The wind at the Patio at Deer Creek carries voices from millions of years ago. You can hear it here:
I dream of the river every night. The white noise of rapids and the placid surface of the slow still parts, where deep water meets the schist walls on both sides.
I look over the edge into glassy pour overs. As your raft approaches the drop, you can't see anything further in front of you and you also can't stop your momentum. You speed up as current grabs the boat. You hear the rapid and white tails splash above the horizon line in surges. Are you sure you want to be here? I call out.
Then I am leaning over the rock holding on to the front lines on the raft. The glassy stream of water is stretched thinly here so I can see through to the colors, reds and grays with white air bubbles clinging to the rock. The boat is sucked down and I feel a tug beneath us before we shoot across sideways and then up the next wave.