Fiction author Robin Brande talks about writing, reading, and other vital matters

You know it’s going to be a great backpacking experience when it begins and ends with your pants off.

About a hundred feet from the car was a modest little wooden arrow with the word “Trail” stamped into it. We could see the trail, all right–just on the other side of a deep, cold, churning mess of white water known as the Rio Grande. Nothing for it. If you want to reach that section of wilderness, you have to brave the water.

It had been raining off and on for the previous several days, so the river was nice and deep and brown with mud. No telling where the bottom was. Bear immediately jumped in because that’s what you do when you’re a Lab, and the river promptly swept him away. Not a good sign. He thought it was terrific, though, and gave it a mighty dog paddle to get to the opposite shore. Then he turned around and jumped in again to come see what was taking us so long.

Um, that would be stripping down to our skivvies.

My husband went first, pack on his back but the straps all undone in case he went in. You don’t want to be attached to a 38-pound pack in circumstances like that, since packs, unlike some humans, don’t really float. The beginning stretch of the river was okay, if horribly cold, but then he hit the middle. VERY strong water, up to his hips, trying its best to sweep him off his feet. Meanwhile Bear was swimming nearby wondering what the big fuss was.

Husband made it, deposited his pack, came back for mine. Chivalry! Made a second trip across, just as cold, just as spooky once he reached the middle.

My turn. Okay for the first few feet, but then I hit the deep. And let me tell you, it takes your breath away. That kind of mindless force, rushing at your torso, ready to rip you off the bottom, happy to carry you as far downstream as it can. My heart hasn’t ever beat that fast. I stood there in the freezing water shouting, “I can’t! It’s too strong!” I tried to lift my foot even half an inch, and couldn’t do it–not because of fear, but because the water was so forceful. So I retreated. Stood on the bank with my legs bright red from the cold water. Took many deep breaths. Got ready to try it again.

This time my husband walked upstream from me, breaking up the force of the water just a little. And that little was all it took. I was still fighting against the current, but at least this time I could move my feet. And once I was past that five-foot stretch of scary, the rest was just ordinary river.

Then because all that hadn’t been dramatic enough, just we were about to reach shore, there was an enormous clap of thunder, and the rain immediately started pouring. We rushed onto shore, quickly found our pants again, then struggled into all our rain gear on top of that, then hunkered down and waited for the lightning to pass.

Fun! That trip was so fun! Sure there were the incidents of stumbling across a dead deer and me being attacked by swarming ants, but there was also skinny dipping in the prettiest alpine lake I’ve ever seen–no one around for miles (which would account for the skinny dipping, since y’all know my feelings about showing body parts)–and living that natural life of falling hard asleep when the sun goes down, and waking up at dawn. How I love that.

So anyway, I’m back now, too many e-mails to mention waiting for me, an enormous to-do list which includes (as some have been asking lately) nailing down details for the Kidlitosphere Conference–trust me, I’ll get to everything, one item at a time. Let me just have this slow day of re-entry to process all the accumulated mail, answer phone calls, wade through the e-mails. Soon order will be restored.

So what have I missed while I’ve been gone?

Technorati Tags: Backpacking, Wilderness Underwear Adventures

Posted on Monday, August 13th, 2007 at 9:41 am under Life . Subscribe to responses: RSS 2.0 Comment Feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.