By Susan Tweit
In July I spent four days on the Green River, floating the canyons of Dinosaur National Park as a “mind guide” for a trip with Colorado Art Ranch.
Let me say right off, I am not a river-girl. Whitewater does not make my heart sing; in fact, the rumble of a river grinding downhill over rapids scares me.
This particular trip came with a boat-load of grief: my writer/bookstore-owner friend Carol drowned three summers ago on the Green, in Triplet Falls, one of the rapids we would be running. Her husband Terry, an experienced boatman, was at the oars when the boat flipped; everyone made it out but Carol. Terry was joining the Art Ranch trip, determined to return to the river he loved.
I did some serious thinking and not a little agonizing before I packed my gear and drove to Vernal, Utah, to join the group.
This particular trip would involve navigating some, well, tricky water. So I decided to set the tone by giving the group a word-ring exercise I had adapted from artist Sherrie York a few years back.
The night before we got on the river, I handed out one- by three-inch manila cards with a hole punched in one end of each, plus metal rings to attach the cards to each person’s waterproof journal, and I placed packages of colored markers in the center of the circle.
The assignment: Write a word or phrase on one card that represents a quality or intention you want to leave behind on the float trip, using watercolor markers. Then write another word or phrase on a different card, this time using waterproof marker, to stand for something you want to take away from the trip.
We would dip the cards with watercolor ink in the river during the float and let the water wash away what we wanted to leave behind; the waterproof ink cards would serve as enduring reminders of what we wanted to learn on the float.
As the group chattered and chose markers, wrote out their words and embellished their cards, I thought about what my words would be.
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.
That pretty much sums up the “why” of this float trip for me: it was time to let go of my fear of whitewater and my grief about both Carol’s drowning death and Terry’s long struggle to move past it.
And time to remind myself of what I love about running rivers: the feel of riding the muscley flow of the water itself and absorbing the quiet; the chance to see towering canyon walls and verdant desert springs, awe-inspiring places only accessible by floating; the time away to think and just be.
The sheer fun of slipping up and over roller-coaster standing waves and past toothy rocks; the look at the desert from the water, its life-giving heart.
The sound of canyon wrens’ sweet descending trills issuing from impossible cliff perches and the sight of bighorn sheep kids tip-toeing to the water’s edge to drink just a few yards from our boats.
Over those four days, the river and sun and water worked their magic, with the help of our excellent guides from Adrift Adventures and a sympatico group gathered by Colorado Art Ranch.
Oh, there were some scary moments (I am not a thrill-seeker and that’s okay with me), and some lonely moments – Richard would have loved this trip….
The simple ceremony in Carol’s memory at our campsite at Triplet Falls reduced both Terry and me to tears. It also touched a chord in all there: people thanked me afterwards for including the group in honoring Carol’s life – she did love living! – and death.
There were some wet and cold times, like the first afternoon, when it rained and hailed on us. Through the whole trip, the river washed over and through me; I woke to its murmur, and fell asleep to the sound of splashing, thrashing water.
On the final day of the float, I slipped from the raft and swam alongside, letting the silty water of the river cradle me, truly going with its flow.
When I hauled myself back on board, I looked back at the string of blue rafts following our lead boat and saw Terry rowing one, his hands strong on the oars, a huge smile splitting his face.
In that moment, I felt cleansed by the river and the desert it flows through, baked and washed clean, refreshed and ready to return to my ordinary life. That’s the magic of the river; that’s why we ride it home.
Susan J. Tweit is the award-winning author of WALKING NATURE HOME, A LIFE’S JOURNEY, and 11 other books, and can be contacted through her blog & web site, susanjtweit.com
