We drove north on Rt. 225. I could see sacred Taos Mountain on the right and dry farmland on the left. At the sign for Arroyo Hondo, Paula took a sharp left turn onto a gravel road. Dust billowed out behind us. I was in the backseat. I saw things I would never have noticed if I were driving.
Last summer, my writing class went swimming in the Rio Grande.
The road got steeper as she navigated the sharp switch backs with no guard rails to keep us from careening into the canyon below. I wondered if it was worth it. This long descent to where? Finally we spotted the metal bridge. We crossed it and pulled over. Writers climbed out of cars squinting in the strong New Mexico sun. We were wearing sunglasses, hats, bathing suits, river shoes and clutching colorful towels. We stumbled around stunned by the heat, unsure where to go.
Natalie, our teacher, was bossy. “Hurry up! Are you coming? Put on sunscreen! leave your sunglasses here...” Those of us who planned to swim, followed her as she headed for a well trodden path up the side of the river. A long time resident of Taos, she knew the way, had been here often. The path was dusty, spiny plants grew along the edge. We clambered over rocks, reaching out a hand to help each other as Natalie forged ahead, not looking back. Canyon walls reached up above us on both sides of the river. It was 2:00. Finally we got to a small sandy beach.
We stood and contemplated the slow moving river. “Feet first!” called Natalie as she strode into the river. We followed her like little ducklings. The water was cold at first and then delicious. The perfect thing to offset the heat of an August day.
Imagine me, an east coast girl swimming in the Rio Grande. It was exhilarating. I drifted down the river for awhile and then turned and tried to swim upstream against the current, then turned and let it take me. I dove down and swam underwater; a fish. Finally I just floated on my back, arms spread wide and let the river carry me as I gazed up at the deep blue New Mexico sky. Natalie was right, it was best going feet first.
2 comments:
this piece made me smile this morning. bossy natalie (nothing changes!), following like ducklings, east coast girl! what great images. loved it.
There are 12 rivers named Avon in England. One is famous for hosting Stratford "on Avon"...another flows through Bath. It provided the drainage for the water from the hot springs in Bath that the Romans developed thousands of years ago. But mostly, the rivers were used as waterways for commerce, coal, timber, gravel...now the rivers watch as tourists float by on barges, cocktailing on the back deck, opening and shutting the locks as they go on their journeys.
Rivers, water, rain, reflected beauty on the pavements from headlights...all wonderful for those used to the arid, high plains. For others...just another rainy day in Londontown.
No floating feet first today...off to Stonhenge. Did they float the giant rocks to the site and the hard working rivers? Still not known...The mystery of the Druids.
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