I wake
up sickly. Dehydrated and toxic. Everything is stiff with a massive
headache to boot. I manage to get up to pee and end up vomiting. The
ceremony was more of a cleanse than I realized, and I didn't drink
enough water. My body's purging became a day long endeavour, and
sleep was a temporary and ineffective tactic. Late in the afternoon,
my love brings me freshly caught fish. He risked his dryness to catch
one, since the thin turquoise line had caused the waves to pick up by
the time he took his boat out. His love, and that fish, soothed my
withered self. I sank into his lap by the water's edge as he read to
me from one of the novels we had brought with us. He made me tea as
we watched the sun set. When the last of the brilliance sank behind
the most perfect mountain, I am fifty percent recovered.
I wake
again as the last of dusk fades into dark. The fish has been good to
me. I can feel my body responding to eating something from this
purest of settings. I make my way to the campfire for the first time
that day. Even fatigued and empty, I yearn for the last of the social
time in this setting. Total darkness never really comes. Dusk and
moon rise see to that. I am peacefully blown away.
Up at
the first light, we are packed into our kayaks and on the water by
7:30am. I am still weak, but ready. At first the paddling leaves me
exhausted. Within an hour, it's as though I've entered in to a
wondrous meditation. I can sit tall, keep stride, and my thoughts are
so quiet and clear.
I
fantasize about living here. What would it be like to live in a dream
forever? Never have to rush around, just fish, and hunt.
Everywhere
I look is beautiful. I can't get over the beauty and how diverse it
can be. It's practising being perfect, and it is.
It's
noon when we reach our landing site. The weather on the water worked
in our favour this time. It's loud here at the campground. Anything
is loud after our week's excursion, but the campground is also
getting ready to host the participants of a rodeo. And this rodeo is one in which the riders capture wild horses and ride them
down steep ridges to the water's edge. It seems everything is
extreme and wild here.
We
sneak off to one of the sandy ridges bordering the campground. The
top harbours a plateau that looks out over the lake that we spent our
morning on. And there they are.
The
beauties. The mountains.
I was
getting homesick for them already. No time for not enjoying. I have
to drink in as much as I can. What if I don't come back?
