In the presence of a river or stream I have always felt in the
presence of some inexplicable, spiritual and creative power. Watching
water travel by, in the middle if its own expedition, with its own
divergences and obstacles, is the nearest thing to religion or church I know. I felt in the presence of whatever it was that inspired Octavio Paz's masterpiece "Sun Stone/ Piedra Del Sol", or Neruda's "Macchu Picchu."
The perfect beach. As soon as it came into view we knew we had found the spot. It spread out across the bank on river right in the shape of South America. Parts of its sandy banks were falling off into the water in shelves. The water was quiet and shallow there, the sand soft.
There were no river bend stores, no corner convenience. We had to bring everything. Our own Manhattan sized apartment. As for the important things, we brought 3 packs of smokes and a case of beer each. That's 8 beers a piece a day. That's it! We had to ration.
By late the second day even beaches suitable for camping were in short supply. We started to worry.
We were told before hand and were reminded when asking others, beach space is slim for day two. We paddled nearly 15 miles looking for a beach worthy of two tents, our canoe, a camp kitchen, a chess set and two city punks.
Around every bend the mirage of a perfect beach disappeared. On and on, bend after bend....no beach. The sun was going down and we were anxious to find a spot to set up camp for the night. Bend after bend we saw nothing but steep muddy banks and private property signs posted.
Experience after experience continued to be left behind us. The trails the stern left behind us were ripples which they disappeared into. Such was the nature of the river. Part of the beauty was pushing on. The further along we went the more valuable the experiences.
