It's been 2 weeks...
It was exactly 2 weeks ago that I rowed our 16' foot boat (Grapevine) onto the sandy beach at Diamond Creek. So odd how time works against us and erodes our perspective.
No matter how hard I try to hold-on to the immediate memories, they continue to fade away. The series of culture-shock moments has run it's course and I'm now in some strange mind-space where I'm 98% in the present reality but still 2% daydreaming and drifting back to Canyon life.
Alex and I were the 1st boat to land at Diamond Creek on the morning of 4/25. That was appropriate as we'd been the lead boat for the trip. It was a beautiful morning, but the end of the trip was bittersweet. 21 days and 226 miles is enough, so there is a correctness with the trip coming to an end. But, leaving Canyon life - the sublime world of intensity and relaxation and solitude and reflection and precise execution - is such an emotional loss for me.
Within an hour of hitting the beach our boat was de-rigged and stripped-down. Soon after it was folded and rolled, no longer recognizable as my floating home. Gear was no longer organized for necessity on the river, but rather for packing into the gear truck. Most of the coolers and rocketboxes, which started the trip filled and carefully packed, were now empty. The only possible clean clothes were buried deep at the bottom of dry bags. Personally, I was more orange/red than flesh-toned, from the combination of tan, sunburn, and layers of sand.
I got to ride in the gear truck for the hour-long, 15 mile drive up the Diamond Creek road. Road isn't the right word - it's a creek bed, more like a trail. Very rough. Riding in the truck added to the bouncing, my body in nearly prepetual motion for the entire drive. We reached pavement at Peach Springs, complete with road signs, a school crossing, on-coming vehicles, and a STOP sign.
Then it was 2-lane highway to Seligman, AZ. We stopped there (at the famous Delgadillo's Snow Cap Drive-In) for burgers. By this time, the culture-shock was overwhelming. There was traffic, radio, tourists, advertising, and all the other ordinary activities of an American small town. But, the level of stimulation to the senses was excessive. After 21 days of Canyon life, with quiet and calm, you're able to realize just how much over-stimulation our senses are bombarded with on a typical American afternoon.
The rest of the drive to Flagstaff was mostly on Interstate (I-40). At least the truck provided some form of isolation. As we drove we had reggae and r&b music playing on an IPOD thru the
cheap truck speakers. It made for an easier transition. And, as we got closer to Flag, I could feel the emotional shift and the change of perspective - now thinking about my car, and the gear work we'd still need to do, and the evening hotel and dinner arrangements. I was already starting to think about the drive back to Seattle and calculating drive times and distances.
It's been 2 weeks since I left The Canyon and now I sit in an office an try to type words and phrases to describe my feelings. But, it's all a jumble. This day-to-day life centered around going to work seems so artificial and unnatural. My body was not made for sitting in an office chair and working at a computer for 8 hours a day. My body was built for sitting on a cooler-seat and rowing a 16-foot raft for 4-6 hours a day -- thru flat water against strong headwinds and thru whitewater drops that require mental focus and physical precision.
I miss the morning song of the canyon wrens. I miss peeing in the river. I miss looking at my river map every morning and planning the day's journey. I miss the simple morning chatter with Alex, once our boat is fully rigged and we're ready to push-off into the current, and we decide to have another Great Day.
It's been 2 weeks and my intense tan is starting to fade. Most of the calluses and cuts on my hands are now gone. A few tiny scares remain and I treasure these. My big toe no longer has much green nail polish, but thankfully my feet still have a deep teva-tan.
Two weeks ago I completed another awesome personal adventure. I felt successful and accomplished and fully satisfied for completion of a goal. Now, I struggle to hold on to the smallest hint of those feelings. And, I feel my current day-to-day working to erode my memories.
~ tom
No matter how hard I try to hold-on to the immediate memories, they continue to fade away. The series of culture-shock moments has run it's course and I'm now in some strange mind-space where I'm 98% in the present reality but still 2% daydreaming and drifting back to Canyon life.
Alex and I were the 1st boat to land at Diamond Creek on the morning of 4/25. That was appropriate as we'd been the lead boat for the trip. It was a beautiful morning, but the end of the trip was bittersweet. 21 days and 226 miles is enough, so there is a correctness with the trip coming to an end. But, leaving Canyon life - the sublime world of intensity and relaxation and solitude and reflection and precise execution - is such an emotional loss for me.
Within an hour of hitting the beach our boat was de-rigged and stripped-down. Soon after it was folded and rolled, no longer recognizable as my floating home. Gear was no longer organized for necessity on the river, but rather for packing into the gear truck. Most of the coolers and rocketboxes, which started the trip filled and carefully packed, were now empty. The only possible clean clothes were buried deep at the bottom of dry bags. Personally, I was more orange/red than flesh-toned, from the combination of tan, sunburn, and layers of sand.
I got to ride in the gear truck for the hour-long, 15 mile drive up the Diamond Creek road. Road isn't the right word - it's a creek bed, more like a trail. Very rough. Riding in the truck added to the bouncing, my body in nearly prepetual motion for the entire drive. We reached pavement at Peach Springs, complete with road signs, a school crossing, on-coming vehicles, and a STOP sign.
Then it was 2-lane highway to Seligman, AZ. We stopped there (at the famous Delgadillo's Snow Cap Drive-In) for burgers. By this time, the culture-shock was overwhelming. There was traffic, radio, tourists, advertising, and all the other ordinary activities of an American small town. But, the level of stimulation to the senses was excessive. After 21 days of Canyon life, with quiet and calm, you're able to realize just how much over-stimulation our senses are bombarded with on a typical American afternoon.
The rest of the drive to Flagstaff was mostly on Interstate (I-40). At least the truck provided some form of isolation. As we drove we had reggae and r&b music playing on an IPOD thru the
cheap truck speakers. It made for an easier transition. And, as we got closer to Flag, I could feel the emotional shift and the change of perspective - now thinking about my car, and the gear work we'd still need to do, and the evening hotel and dinner arrangements. I was already starting to think about the drive back to Seattle and calculating drive times and distances.
It's been 2 weeks since I left The Canyon and now I sit in an office an try to type words and phrases to describe my feelings. But, it's all a jumble. This day-to-day life centered around going to work seems so artificial and unnatural. My body was not made for sitting in an office chair and working at a computer for 8 hours a day. My body was built for sitting on a cooler-seat and rowing a 16-foot raft for 4-6 hours a day -- thru flat water against strong headwinds and thru whitewater drops that require mental focus and physical precision.
I miss the morning song of the canyon wrens. I miss peeing in the river. I miss looking at my river map every morning and planning the day's journey. I miss the simple morning chatter with Alex, once our boat is fully rigged and we're ready to push-off into the current, and we decide to have another Great Day.
It's been 2 weeks and my intense tan is starting to fade. Most of the calluses and cuts on my hands are now gone. A few tiny scares remain and I treasure these. My big toe no longer has much green nail polish, but thankfully my feet still have a deep teva-tan.
Two weeks ago I completed another awesome personal adventure. I felt successful and accomplished and fully satisfied for completion of a goal. Now, I struggle to hold on to the smallest hint of those feelings. And, I feel my current day-to-day working to erode my memories.
~ tom
posted by tomwilk | 10:41 AM
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