My last two trips were spectacular. The soft fall light reflected the canyon walls with an orange glow I had never before experienced. Animals came out from hiding, stripping the post-monsoon desert of its greenery and fruit. The herons and osprey seemed to follow our parade of yellow boats floating down the Colorado. There were two days where the sun barely peeped out and I felt so alone in the world. No sign of other trips, no contrails indicating life beyond the rim existed. Just the sound of water.
Transitioning back into a world filled with beeps, buzzes, screens, and roofs, I miss the sound of moving water. I miss the clear skies and the crisp air. On the river you become so isolated. Your music playlist is composed of bird calls, water sounds and acoustic melodies of cowboy-river guides. Instead of magazines and movies telling you what beauty is, you see it for yourself, in the thousand-foot sandstone cliffs, moonlight dancing on the water, genuine smiles. Cut off from all other relationships in your life, the other adventurers on your trip become your family and best friends, your teachers and your students. You do not need much to have everything.
Now that I am back into the whirlwind of "real life" a certain sweetness has been lost. I find myself aching for another adventure, an escape from the buzzes and beeps of our busy world. Simplicity. Some might say that I am running away, and I would agree that I am. Running away to free flowing rivers, wild forests, open spaces...to everything.
Within the next week I should have some sort of plan for the winter, another adventure. Until then I will be outside.