We wake. The patter of rain we fell asleep to has eased to a steady and subtle hiss. It casts an ominous haze over the burnt and broken hills. Globes of water settle on our skin. They trickle and drip deep into the thick layers we wear to ward off the chilled, pre-dawn air. The rain has a voice; it whispers, I’m here to stay.

We don drysuits, skirts, and lifejackets. The bright splashes of color do little to cast away the depthless grey. We drain our boats. We check the level. It’s rising. He said he’d never put on this river in the rain. He said…

What he said is drowned in the insidious hissing. Our thoughts are drowning, too. The weight of the rain shrouds the clarity of our minds just as it shrouds the clarity of the river.

An not-so-bright, but still early start on the Illinois -Michael Gordon Photo

You’re in deep now, deeper than you’ve ever been before. Deeper than you know. You left all signs of humanity at the put in, and there’s a full day of paddling before you’ll see one again.

Though the current drags you inexorably forwards, time is lost between the canyon walls. It wells up and swirls in the eddies, allowing your senses to absorb every ripple as it passes. The river displays an infinite array of colors as it casts rainbows in the mist, the chill of winter lurks among the snow coated pines that cap the mountains surrounding you.

More striking than the sights of the untouched wilderness is the melody of the river in it’s most natural and wild state. The crashing wave is more dramatic than any climactic cymbals, the melody more dynamic than a symphony. The roar of the river resonates through every inch of your being.

Michael Gordon Photo

Have you ever been in love? No, not with a person or a place. In love with a moment; a brief slice of time, flitting in nature but remembered for a lifetime.


Everything just fits; any more and the world of your heart might explode. Nothing’s missing. It’s a moment when everything feels right that should, and you move past confronting what feels wrong and just accept it.

In this moment, I am in love with the great cresting rollers dashing themselves against the rocks, with the warmth of the sun-not-quite-setting, the rumble of tires on pavement. I am in love with the exhaustion begging my eyelids to close, the ache of 33 miles of whitewater nestling into my shoulders, and the smell of the river stuck in my clothes. I am in love with the silence settling on my soul.




Inspired by the Illinois-In-A-Day expedition, composed of Ben Orkin, Harrison Rea, Michael Gordon, and myself. Special thanks to "other" Ben and Chloe for driving shuttle and allowing the whole adventure to happen. For a detailed description of the 33-mile overnight section that we paddled, visit the Oregon Kayaking page and check out the Illinois River.