Southern River Kinship
Camp on Goat Island, Broad River, SCOctober 14, 2012. Dawn, Goat Island, a sandy perch of land in the Broad River, South Carolina.
I unzipped my tent and slipped out into the cool of the South Carolina October morning. The sun, if it was trying to shine through, had a challenge in the gray cloud cover. I walked toward the still river hoping to see some sandpipers working the sandy shoreline. Perhaps in the night, while the Barred and Great Horned Owls hooted, some small bird had flown in. But the sandy shoreline wasn’t there anymore. Had I mis-remembered the soft bank of this island?
I walked past a half dozen stilled tents to the kitchen area, where I hoped to find some coffee. Bob, who runs river trips and had orchestrated the details of this float, had the pot set up. All I had to do was turn the knob and light the propane burner. This was cushy camping.
I looked over at the four sit on top kayaks, two regular kayaks, the wooden hand made canoe, and the supply raft. Something was missing.
“Where’s the second raft?” I heard Bob’s voice to my left.
Indeed, it had floated off in the night.
Paddling in Good Company
Mid-way through the fall I learned that mine was not the only book to be published this season about paddling down a river. Four other books carried writers into print this fall, from the Charles River in Massachusetts, to the rivers of the Carolinas, to the Altamaha in Georgia. I love these sorts of convergence. Certainly there are many paddle down river books but why five in one season? What has drawn us all to float and think—about rivers, about the environment, about life. Because if one thing unites these books is thinking about the world—paddling, whether in a canoe or a kayak, invites reflection. What is intriguing are the ways these books overlap, observations echo (those great blue heron; those sturgeon), words repeat ("drifting" "My") and number of pages to tell the story align (221 it is!). In some ways, this could be because a river is a river (though this isn’t exactly true) and paddling is paddling (again not true) but it seems we all turned to rivers for ideas, solace, inspiration, love. Rivers formed this country, and if I can conclude one thing it is that being in and on a river shapes how we see the world, relate to the world. I want to say they made us better people, though that sounds really cheesy. What I mean by better is more aware of our own thoughts, biases and desires, more attentive to the world, more appreciative of life. I’ll stop there before I write something foolish like: paddling is good for the world, not just for the soul.
Over this break, I’ve read the books of my four river companions. Here are some observations.
A RIVER'S PLEASURE
My latest book: A RIVER’S PLEASURE: ESSAYS IN HONOR OF JOHN CRONIN. This is a collection of essays that celebrates the life and work of my friend John Cronin. He has had a wide-ranging, imaginative career and is one of the most dynamic thinkers about our environmental situation. In some ways, reading this book is a history, through his life and the Hudson River, of our environmental movement.
The first time John and I had dinner, four years ago now, we talked about the Hudson River, Thomas Merton, John Steinbeck and teaching. I knew that here was a person I’d never get tired of. However, you would think that after pulling together essays, editing them, and proofreading them I’d really be sick of him. I’m not. This is partly because my co-editor Michelle Land did the lion’s share of the work. But also because the essays here are wonderful—insightful, smart, well written. There are contributions from Alex Wilkinson, who writes marvelous profiles often for the New Yorker, and a personal account of the early Riverkeeper days from Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. I got to interview Pete Seeger for the collection, which was a treat: he sang to me over the phone.