Gazing into the depths of the Salt River, one inevitably tries to guess what exactly is in that murky, churning, sometimes gooey, “water.”
If a tube isn’t flipping, it’s popping, and if your friends aren’t floating happily down the river while you paddle frantically to catch up, you’re painfully extricating yourself from a bush with super tangle powers.
But stop. Sit still.
As the first treacherous period of adjustment begins to fade, the water levels and, suddenly, it’s cool to the touch rather than shockingly freezing. The sun beats down but provides a contrast to the temperature of the water beneath. Trailing fingers trickle a relaxing tune as shoulders relax and sunglass-covered eyes tip up to the sky.
Like any adventure, one must endure the tumultuous parts of the journey in order to enjoy the privilege of the prized moments.
A friend recently invited me on a group trip to Fossil Creek involving a 6-mile hike that would culminate in the view of a 30-foot waterfall and a secluded camping ground. In order to get to the beauty of the bottom of this valley, 6 miles of brambling and bumbling and stubbing toes on rocks must first be endured.
Yes, people will be drunk. But with any luck and a designated driver on hand, there’s no reason the rest of us born in the era of Nickelodeon’s “All That” can’t join in.
And yes, it’s dirty. But so is almost anything else in life worth doing. Even shopping can ruin a good manicure.
And yes, fine, people can act darn foolish on the river. But surrounded by friends with enough wit and sarcasm on hand to make it all a joke, public drunkenness on the river becomes just like a Saturday night on Mill Avenue.
As my friend and I were floating down the river last summer, examining some unidentifiable bit of river flotsam that had attached itself to my tube, we heard splashing ahead. As we floated on, we saw two horses, one brown and one white, wading in the water at the river’s edge.
We passed slowly by and didn’t even think to take a picture until we were twisting around in our tubes to keep them in view.
Nature can be gross and uncomfortable and more populated than we may like. But it has so many other remarkable qualities that can be impossible to encounter in our cement-ridden metropolitan lives.
Arizona’s reputation as a scenic vacation spot that does not begin and end at the Starbucks line has proven itself true in this seasonal pastime.
Reach the columnist at ymgonzal@asu.edu
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