On the Buffalo - Day 3

​I am lying in our tent. It is, by my best guess, close to 8:45pm and nearing the only true moments of darkness we have on this trip. The sun has finally set and the moon is about to rise: waxing full and ripe, far brighter than I have ever seen it in cities or towns. When it rises it will give light to our little sandbar. 

We made an impromptu camp this evening, on the east side of the river to catch as much of the waning sunlight as possible. We needed to dry our things. Rachel and I tipped our canoe this afternoon. 

The moon rises and casts its light on the various articles hanging from branches and vines: shirts, underwear, hats, our rain fly, Kim’s sleeping bag, trash, our food bag, and eleven pages from my Midsummer Night’s Dream script all on the same branch, pale in the light, like a congregation of ghosts.

The river had flooded the week before we came, rising as high as 18 feet above its normal level. The trees along the bank are full of branches, leaves, trash, and other debris. Many were knocked down, dragged along, and left in the river. 

Memory has funny tricks it plays. I am sure the actual tipping our canoe took no more than five seconds, but the memory of it is slow and segmented. 

Rachel and I had come around the bend and seen the tree, but the current was too strong, we too inexperienced. Remembering it I feel we had days to turn, but didn’t, our canoe slowly drifting sideways into the uprooted oak, the water pouring into the bottom of our canoe like batter into a pan. It all seemed so slow in retrospect? How could we have lost control? 

We managed to get the canoe out and the only thing lost was our bailer (the top half of a plastic jug). Much was dampened, including my and Rachel’s spirits and we moved a little slower the rest of the day. 

It is at first glance a learning experience, but here under the moonlight, spent and exhausted and content, I draw no lines between learning and not. Everything thus far has simply been to experience, learning and growth and the need to categorize and contextualize fade away under the moonlight and I simply lay back, close my eyes, and feel the river sway me softly to sleep. 

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