Head River

Dark beautiful river carving its way through solid granite. Sometimes a meandering puddle, sometimes a treacherous torrent of ice and frigid water. Nature at its best unforgiving. Swallowed two dogs, silently, deadly, painfully for years. Tried to swallow three of our little ones, unwittingly following the dog to their death. Giver of cool swimming, lots of fun and peace, floating, not thinking, not worrying. Dramatic in the Spring rebirth, of the ice dam, getting bigger and bigger until finally releasing its burden of ice and water. Full of frogs and beavers and otters. Extending beyond its edges to wash three and four times its width clean and leaving crap, twisted. Water like tea, but a kayakers test of skills and endurance. The river was difficult to cross except for the cable bridge we made. Sixty feet of plank and wire that swayed when beginners crossed. Ministry people brought recruits to the cable bridge to test their merit. The bridge made more exciting when the water was high and planks would smack in rushing black water right under your feet. Just enough to give you pause and contemplate, as the black water was fast and freezing cold. Grandma’s song “Why hurry little river, why hurry little stream”.