Freedom and Moonlight

I recently had a weekend of unbridled freedom.  I get a lot of comments about how nice it is to be free and able to go and do as I will.  The troubling thing is that I bind myself with commitments I don't want to keep, obligations and meaningless efforts that are expected.  That chapter seems to be over.  Recent events have reminded me that we have no guarantee of health, life or of the people in our lives that we cherish.  It's time to live and go all out.  Sleep may be lacking and days long, but at least you are living them. 

The day started with a work day.  My coworkers would tell you it was very much overshadowed by my excitement about a full weekend of paddling and/or being outside.  After work, I charged home, reshuffled some gear and headed for the Mulberry River.  The full moon promised a perfect overnight float and clear skies confimed it was a go.  We gathered just before dark, found we were down to a group of two and decided to go for it.  It was perfect weather, perfect company and no where to be.  As we drove to drop a car at the take out, we found a massive tree had fallen across the road within the last 24 hours.  Full of green leaves it loomed as an obstacle that wouldn't be surmounted.  Thankful that we didn't have a car on the river side of that log, we pulled out maps and made a new plan.  With glowing headlamps, a mud streaked topo map and loads of contemplation, we decided to float Hurricane Creek down to the Mulberry.  After cautious 12 point turns on a narrow forest service road, we were back on the road.  Arriving at Hurricane Creek, a whiporwhill greated us with great volume and enthusiam.  Packing gear and getting down to the river, it was clear this was going to be an amazing adventure.  

The creek was narrow, rapids illuminated by a bright moon and the upper pool still and smooth as glass.  After reminders to exit the boat if it should be headed for a tree or strainer, we took off.  Headlamps off and guided by the moon we traversed shoal after shoal.  The moon picked up the white of waves and guided us along.  Sound became critical as a guide to obstacles and changes in the surface of the water.  Peace was dominant.  The world was painted monochromatic, trees standing as black silhouettes, the river rich grey punctuated with white, the sky a milky grey dotted with stars and finally the moon.  High above and painting every surface it could catch, the moon gave us enough light to travel, but not too much to eliminate all mystery.  Shadows called your attention and waterfalls trickled off the bluffs.  Reaching the confluence with the Mulberry River, a ominous fog took over landscape.  We were all at once surrounded, but able to see.  Breaking onto the river, a steady current grabbed our boats and showed another smooth surface.  The moon, still high, guided us downriver while more whiporwhills encouraged us along.  

The wave action was more dramatic and the moon's requisite illumination of these white tells was wild and wonderful.  We paddled and turned and played with all the freedom we had at hand.  There was not a single worry, just pure play.  The long pools were filled with both quiet contemplation and conversations that required the encouragement of the dark.  It's always fortunate when you find another creature that has fought the same battles and come out the other side.  We leaned back on our gear filled hulls and watched the moon, the stars and Mars as it shone like a guiding light.  A few shoals required headlamps, but not for long.  It seemed sacrilegous to keep them on too long when you had the sound of the water and its push on your boat to guide you along.  Looking back upriver the fog hung in the air.  There was almost expectation to it.  An impenetrable force that needed to be fled or explored.  The occassional splash of a beaver into the river was enough to shake you out of awe and into wonderment.  

As the moon continued its travels, we sought out a campsite with a view.  A few opportunities presented themselves, but nothing was quite right.  Coming around a bend, the moon cast all of its light on a gravel bar.  The setting was perfect.  Being reasonably flat, it had a deer trail up into the woods and a wave above it that gave up a last blast to the chest of cool water before we landed. It is a funny thing to camp with a new companion, but remarkably our division of labor was quick, unspoken and done with the moon providing all the light we needed.  A large fire was built to cut the chill and a early morning dinner presented a welcome break.  The moon continued its travel across the sky.  We were fairly transfixed.  It's not that we hadn't seen it before, but the fire, the sound of the waves, the complete lack of human created responsibility all created an atmosphere of wonder.  

Finally dried out, and with hints of dawn approproaching, we finally fell towards sleep.  Morning birds were just starting to call out, the moon had set and the sky was going from deep black to the richest dark blue.  Sunrise came too quickly, but the short peace of sleeping with a view of infinity was enough to make you wake up slowly, but with a smile that comes with contentment.  The sun shone with a force we hadn't seen in a weeks worth of rain.  The birds because increasingly vocal, a breeze cut through the tent, and the water continued to lap at the edge of the gravel bar.  We reluctantly packed up and had our coffee, hot cocoa and sandwiches to pull us into paddling mode. The day didn't hold near the mystery, conforting ease of the dark or the glory of moonlight, but it was stunning and everything felt very much alive.