Chasing the Muse -- Catharine Cooper

“Like love, travel makes you innocent again.”

-- Diane Ackerman

Serrated clouds drift overhead punctuated by the shimmering stars of

the morning triangle. Snugly wrapped in my purple sleeping bag, my eyes

scan the predawn sky. Laurie Lee and Julie slip quietly through the beach

sand. “Hey, birthday girl. Still want to light the blaster?” Reluctantly,

I slither from my cocoon. Part of me desperately wants to linger, to

savor the moment of this last morning of our 16-day journey down the

Colorado River. But the childlike glee of something silly, out of place

-- to light the blaster (a high output propane burner used to heat coffee

water) -- on my birthday is too enticing to pass up. It’s 4:15 am and no

one else stirs in camp.

The flame ignites with a loud whoosh. The girls hand me a small piece

of carrot cake complete with candle. I make a wish -- ah, don’t you want

to know -- and extinguish the flame with a small poof. Light begins to

paint the top of Diamond Peak a soft beige. The last of the evenings bats

flutter about, scooping up insects in a mad dash before dawn.

Breakfast is simple this morning -- bagels, juice and coffee. We are a

mere three miles from Diamond Creek, our takeout point, and a sumptuous

brunch awaits us after our de-rigging. We load the boats one last time,

and begin our final hour on the water -- a silent float.

Paddle commands are communicated with a thump on the tubes -- one

thump for all forward. Two thumps for stop. Canyon walls rise and fall

before us -- and without words to pull us away, the power of this space

carries us deeper into ourselves. Leslie and Emma sit behind me, their

faces glow in the early light. As I ponder their beauty, I am overwhelmed

by a simultaneous sense of lost and found. Tears become common.

Two hundred twenty-six river miles have woven our lives together in

adventure, in laughter and in sharing. We’ve hiked through sandstone,

limestone and granite, into the aeries of the red wall, paddled through

roaring rapids and floated through lake-like pools. We come from two

continents, multiple coasts and spaces in the middle. In the 16 days, we

have become as much alike as not, and our common goal -- the welfare of

us all -- has bound us together.

The canyon bares her soul and asks us to do the same. Julie cajoles us

up rock faces. Jeff and Sam gently fill the air with their guitars and

voices, inviting song and lulling tired hikers to sleep. Owl tells

morality tales. Hank leads spirited games. Evie plays her recorder, and

the joined voices in tight side canyons echo our spirits. Birding takes

on a new light as we quickly identify the Avocet, Hooded Warbler, Canyon

Wren, Merganser, Phoebe and others. Tracks in the sand: the beaver, the

ring-tail, deer and the big horn sheep remind us that we share this

space, their space, and respectfully do our utmost not to disturb their

home.

What is the magic of this place? A deep chasm within the center of the

Colorado plateau, the Grand Canyon invites us to step away from the

energy that separates us from ourselves. This vast wilderness begs us to

let go of our daily race -- to be perfectly in the moment. To give

ourselves the gift of rowing the boat, climbing the rock face or simply

watching the river roll by. It brings us deeply to our core and allows us

to face our value systems -- to adjust as necessary and to enjoy the

luxury of stepping out of whatever madness kept us from here.

A hummingbird swoops in front of my face. She hovers over the water’s

edge, eye to eye. Her closeness creates reverence. Her wings resonate

melodious within my system. Her gift: more innocence as I let go of what

I know and discover the world.

We round the final river bend to takeout, but my eyes are frozen up

canyon. Thoughts are tangled in memories of sand storms, large waves,

shared touches and caring. I can hear my heart beat deep within my chest,

in harmony with my friends. This is my third journey down the river, and

it strikes me that I have just begun to scratch the surface of what

personal transformations are possible.

I invite you to step outside tonight -- to gaze at the night sky and

open your heart to dreams. Then, plan a trip to any wilderness space.

Walk among tall trees, raft down river corridors, hike desert plateaus.

You’ll find new spaces within yourself -- and an expanded sense of home.

* CATHARINE COOPER is a Laguna Beach resident.