We received our first snow storm of the season, and were sure not to miss out. The parking lot was frozen solid at five thirty in the morning. The temperature was hovering around twenty degrees. We decided to forego a Falls run, and sledded our way toward the sandy beach put-in to paddle the gorge. In a quiet blanket of white, our black neoprene boots carved the first tracks of man. I almost felt guilty about disturbing the peace of such a quiescent moment, but was happy to absorb the needed renewal offered by the fresh gift of white powder.
We sat in our boats and sledded down the trail with wooden stairs toward the put-in. There is nothing like five good three foot snow boofs in a row to get your day started out right. I wore a pair of thick snowboarding gloves and my fingertips were still a bit numb.
Drifting down the gorge we floated silently, speaking in intermittent tones about the passing of fall and the sudden arrival of winter. Rounding the great bend in the gorge we were greeted by a gentle splash of intense orange light painted on the grey rock walls in a shade I had never before seen.
These are the moments I enjoy most on the river. It is not about stepping it up, the next big run, or the sweetest new play move... it is about being connected, it is about choice, and it is about embracing the ever changing nature of who we are. These are the moments I remember.
