Dear Reader, Once we got on the water (John and I each in an inflatable kayak and Cliff and Chayse running the raft) everything changed; the morning’s chaos washed away. The joy of floating The Joy of Floating We were floating. Self-contained. At one with the river and the currents and the breeze. Rocks and boulders slid beneath the shimmering water. Grasses swayed along the bank. We heard the smack of a beaver tail. Saw the flight of a heron. We moved slowly, and yet kept our eyes flashing left to right, up river and down, scanning for the shallows, …
Low-water Run of the Yampa River, Part 5: The Art of Floating
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