A Glacial River

                                                                                                                          Google image - Kitlope River back channel
A glacial river gives to my mind the picture of a strong muscled belly. One that moves in and out with the draw and push of steady breathing that rises and falls in a strong summer rhythm. A stream’s baseline rhythm is only broken by heavy rainfall events. Localized rainfall, upstream in the headwaters will swell the main stem while an overhead rain swells every little tributary nearby. In its soft summer rest, a river drops at night in the cool air and swells through a warm afternoon with cool green melt water. One needs to be aware of this pattern of rising and falling water - especially, when travelling by boat. It is one of those things that someone can warn you about but if the river ever catches you by surprise and takes your boat away or strands it high and dry in the wilderness, even just one time, then you will never, ever, loose this lesson.


Once you've figured out how to keep your boat safe and floating on the river while you are away from it exploring - then you might notice river's breath. A river breathes is downstream in the morning and upstream in the afternoon. Cool heavy air that slides off a glacier's back floods down the river's valley during the early morning. This is the pleasant morning "Out" breath. It creates a cool downstream breeze that carries the smell of bare rock and glacier dust just barely over the flow of cold, clear, green water. It breathes mist and dew onto the glass of a quiet morning dream. There are no bugs in the early morning air but fish hold in the clear morning water pointing with purpose into the current and unknowingly, into the valley’s wind.


The "In" breath changes everything. It draws the warm moist air from the estuary up the valley, changing the direction of the wind and carrying the rich summer smell of sun on marsh mixed with wet river silt. The kind of summer silt that sticks and stays slippery on the bottom of work boots and marks your clothes forever. Waves of insects fly and bite or nuisance in sequence as the valley warms. They come in waves, tied to loose schedules, first the deer flies, then black flies, then horse flies, mosquitoes and finally no-see-um's. Each species has enough time to be noticed and cursed. As the river breathes "in" this warm and scented air penetrates upstream and the river rises with melt water. Returning salmon begin to move up the swelling stream. Their nose into the current and the valley wind's steady watch at their back, never really makes their journey easier. I watch it all happen, just the way it is, trusting and certain in every moment, just like the belly of a sleeping dog. This harmony of nature touches something deep inside of me.