I went to bed listening to the rain beat against the windows.
The violent
storm gave me a strange sense of peace, like it always does.
I dreamt of
paddling all night long. I awoke ready to skip work to hit the
river, but
there was several inches of snow and it was still snowing. I
dejectedly
went to work.
Walking to work I neared Cascadilla Creek, a little 500 fpm jem in the
middle of Cornell. It sounded like a freight train as I approached.
The
sound was glorious to my ears. Entranced I found my way down
the trail and
before me was the most powerful display I had ever seen. Hundreds
of cfs
cascading off 30,40 and 50 foot waterfalls landing flat on hard rock.
Even
at these levels the pools at the bottom did not fill in. I had
a sinking
feeling that running these falls without a landing zone would guarantee
a
great deal of pain. I ran back and forth like a squirrel trying
to find
the line. Then I realized it, I have the sickness. I threw
my head back
and laughed out loud. What separated me from all the mindless
drones
walking around above was that I wanted to live, to really live and
experience everything. People without the sickness would almost
certainly
think that I was just trying to die, not live. I realized that
it is not a
sickness, but an obsession to suck the marrow out of life. I
may never run
Cascadilla gorge ... but I do not want to get well either.
Later that day I saw my son clap his hands in a sonogram. It was
one of
the most moving moments of my life. It was so real. I rejoiced
that my
little son was happy and alive and growing in Marlo's belly.
I begged
Marlo to run shuttle so I could run a little class II run up at Tiaganock
falls. There is a little 1/2 mile run with lots of surfing waves
and holes
at higher levels. The park police came and gave me a real hard
time. I
think he wanted to punch me in the head. In his reality I was
a crazy
idiot who was out paddling in a blizzard risking his life and the lives
of
the people that were going to have to come and rescue me. In
my reality I
was just doing what I loved and being as cautious as possible.
The lack of
understanding of the sport by the officer and his uncertainty and
insecurity with what I was doing made him very angry. He could
see that I
had the sickness, to him I needed therapy. Whats a paddler to
do?
Prologue:
Two months later Mike and I made what I believe to be a first decent
down
all the rapids except the first 2 40' drops without landing areas.
I broke my boat
on the 2nd to last drop, but it was worth it.