Book Excerpt: Swiftwater Rescue Failure

I stood near the eddy in a faded mauve and blue wetsuit, shifting my weight left, right, left, right, toying with the Velcro tabs that encased me in smelly neoprene. How many people had worn this wetsuit before me, marked with a bold white 25 on the thigh? How many trips down the river in a blue and yellow raft had it made before I wriggled into it? How many leaps off the four-storey rock wall and into the swift current beneath? I didn’t want to know how many times someone had peed in it when he thought no one was looking. + Read More

On Portaging

The canoe yoke jostles for position on my shoulders, hitting a vertebra every time it slides up my neck. My shoulders ache with the effort to support my canoe pack and steady the canoe, an unwieldy seventeen-foot, forty-five pound Kevlar seesaw on a sixty-four inch base.

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Hiking in the Rain Meditation

The rain hits the lush green canopy overhead. Pat. Pat pat pat pat. As its intensity increases so does the frequency with which droplets break through my leafy roof and splash on my nose.

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