Blurry

The level of the Potomac river has been dropping steadily over the past several weeks. Life seems a bit blurry these days. Thoughts about the inadequacies of society seem to twist throughout, noticeably surpassing my usual languishing nerosis. The river remains my personal beacon of hope, yet as it dries, I too begin to feel dry. In the search for meaning in a world full of uncertainties, whitewater remains an apparent antithesis to the vagaries of modern culture, a world all to eager to play it safe, a merry band of myopic vegetables. This evening I experienced a new low of 2.47 feet. The river dramatically changes in character as rock formations appear to rise out of the river bed. The main curtain at 'Pummel' was entirely dry, leaving only the 'Notch' to run. My lines through the 'Notch' have certainly improved since my first backwrenching meltdown several weeks ago. Tonight the landings were soft and forgiving, and as I felt the white mist upon my back, the concept of a day began to melt away.

'Pencil Sharpener' was nearly dried up, and the move changes to a drop into the top hole, anticipating a strong brace as the current pushes you sideways into a tight crack. 'Horseshoe' is tame at this level, and the 'hairy ferry' is the easier move down. The main concern is drying out on shallow rock.

I met a young guy named Charlie this evening and we decided to boat together. He is young and full of character, and I would never have pegged him as a local. After finishing the Falls, we decided to climb up and around the 'Center' lines to take a look the numerous sieves and potholes. It was nearly dark as we clammered around from rock to rock, staring into boiling cauldrons. The dried and dead algae was noticeable as we perused the normally water covered rock faces. Yesterday evening I pulled into the 'Fish Ladder' eddy to begin my journey back to the parking lot, and numerous catfish flopped around in the shallow rock filled pools. I wondered how much lower the water would get before we got some rain. I am starting to get a dried out feeling, like I can feel the earth cracking beneath my feet. Algal blooms are common in periods of prolonged drought leading to hypoxic water conditions which threaten local fish populations. I hear stories of park rangers finding dead fish along the river banks. Still, the local fishing population does not seem to cease. I noticed several fishermen out tonight.

A storm brewed in the distant horizon and several times the Falls were lit in a brilliant, momentary display of pure crystaline white light. I was excited at the thought of rain, at thoughts of change, yet it turned out to be nothing more than a brief stammering of liquid droplets. Perhaps tomororw we might be a bit luckier.