a walk along the river
A simple walk down the river. A little family adventure in the big back yard.
We follow the course of the river, finding bends and cliffs and secret spots, the wildness tamed beneath a winters worth of snow, a heavy load held afloat by ice still holding, promising to give way soon enough when softened by the strengthening sun. Here within these solid walls of rock face, winter remains indifferent to the hint of spring and warmth of sun which does not easily find its way to the bottom of this canyon.
the boys walking around an open section
Inspired by a simple solitary mile trek up river earlier this week, I convinced the boys to join me on an excursion this time down river, along Rio Grande from Brewster Park back down to the Ranch. Probably only four miles, four unchartered miles, most certainly never travelled in winter when the river is iced over and covered with more than two feet of snowpack.
Conditions were just right. Not too fluffy, not too sticky… we are picky with our snow. And more so with the status of the river, or rather, the solid state of the ice on top. Another week, and her gaps may be impassible. As it was, we were passing each other poles and pulling each other up with rope to make it around a few precarious breaks in the icy surface.
making our way down river
From time to time, we see the water; sink holes in the snow, a shock of black in an otherwise smooth white surface. We take heed. There is no way out of the canyon, except onward or back the way we came, should we find it too uncomfortable and change our mind. We are not here to falter. Still and silent, we stand for a moment and listen to the whisper of the muffled flow. We hear its unmistakable song before we see it, transparent waters coursing over ancient rocks worn smooth with time, infinite stories that remind us how ephemeral we are.
Solid as the ice may seem, distant as the waters mostly remain, we are well aware of its existence below us. Each step is a wonder, with held breath, until we are too tired to care any longer, and step slowly through the snow, snowshoe sinking in through the powder, our movements labored, purposeful, just to be closer to home.
a quiet easy section
The secret of a remaining nest, perched on the cliff above the motionless river, a reminder of life and seasons past, and what could be again. Safe and protected, undisturbed between these almost impenetrable cliffs embracing the primordial waters flow.
almost home
And here we are, walking on frozen waters.
the final stretch