Quietly in serenity I had the river to myself for several hours. As I floated back downstream from the trip up to River Rise on the Santa Fe, I heard the jibber jabber and aluminum paddle banging against aluminum canoe making its way upstream. They we busily yaking away, commenting upon everything possible. I pulled over under some trees along the bank and awaited their passing.
They are of the sort who though I appreciate their willingness to be out in a rental canoe, they seem to have some motive in mind beyond mine. Mine is not so grand and high or spiritual as such, it just seems by the way they held the paddles, how they could not steer the canoes, what they talked of, that this was like some ride at Disney, a diversion for a time, then on to some other ride. Kind of like my many friends who skim along with their lives, surface dwelling, intent upon some destination I am not sure they really want to be on. And when we meet in passing, they look askance over my way and pass me off as that kook in the kayak.
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