Of course it wasn't just fog. It was also wind blowing so hard against us we hardly relocated camp. We got in the boats, paddled like hell then got out of the boats. One stop for snacking, warming, resting arms. We moved a mile or so? When we were paddling I wouldn't look at the shore, it was too demoralizing, the obvious evidence that we were in fact getting nowhere. I finally broke out the enormous parka that had been taking up so much of my dry bag space for so many days. It is heavy, it is thick, it was like wearing my own group shelter, one with a heater inside. It was wonderful. As wonderful as it had been on my first trip to the Arctic in 2009 when it snowed so many days. Like the big warm hug of a hot tub, immersive.
So, I had been missing my daughter and handling it well. But, what I was not handling well was the idea that the weather might keep us from making it to Turner River on time to be picked up. That it might be too windy or too something else and we might move too slowly or not at all and we would miss our pick up. It made me upset to discuss and think about. Because, I missed my family but also because things had moved so slowly on the trip. Everything so slowly in such a way that I felt like it was keeping me from something. And it was a puzzle I seemed unable to solve.
This was it, goal reached. The 25 night goal. I had realized before i left on this trip that I would hit my 25th night when I was out there. But with so much of the summer left, celebrating seemed odd. Also, celebrating with people who had no idea of what this might mean to me also seemed odd. As I am posting this we are in the last days of September and I still have not celebrated. I think when I officially declare this season over I will celebrate. Hopefully with Becs, if I am really lucky, with some other folks too, talking to you Courtney, and there will be champagne.
No comments:
Post a Comment