Hi,
Thanks for joining me,
Klara,
For this sleep story based on rafting down the Emerald River.
Before we begin,
Please find a place where you feel comfortable and can rest.
Close your eyes,
Relax all the muscles in your face,
Focus on your forehead and release all the tension.
Allow the tightness to melt away from your eyes.
Drop your shoulders as low as possible to ease any stress from your neck.
Relax your upper and lower arms,
Then move down to your fingers.
Relax your chest and fill your lungs with air.
Release,
Then move down to your hips and knees.
Then finish at your ankles and feet.
Well,
You won the lottery.
Not the lottery you're thinking about.
It's another type of lottery.
It's the coveted annual lottery to raft down the Emerald River.
The odds of winning this lottery are high,
So it was a complete surprise when you discovered yours was among the few winning names.
You applied for this permit years ago and completely forgot that you put your name in for it until you found out you won it.
So here you are,
Windows all the way down,
Pumping along a sandy dirt road with your raft and supplies in the back of the truck.
The road is the same familiar colour as the Jurassic Sandstone Cliffs.
And you've been zig-zagging down on switchbacks for countless miles.
It's been a long,
Dusty trip but now you've reached the upper end of the canyon and in front of you is the crawling snake of a river flowing north-east to south-west.
And there is the boat ramp.
The truck completes the arc of its last turn and you park it near the shoreline,
Underneath a cottonwood tree.
There's a cabin next to the boat ramp and three men leap out of it offering to help you with the raft.
Thank you so much for helping.
They loosen the straps,
Hoist it down to the water,
Launch it and then moor it to some rocks on the shore while you transfer and secure all the supplies you'll need for your days floating down the river.
You climb gingerly into the raft and settle down,
Threading the oars into their locks.
The guys cast the line to you and cheer when you catch it.
Then you curl your fingers around the oars,
Wave goodbye and start rowing.
When you can no longer see the launching area anymore,
You start paddling and breathe a sigh of relief and pause.
More here,
Suspended,
Floating,
Drifting,
Savouring the pulse of the river.
The rim of the canyon is towering high above you,
Shimmering in the infinite blue air and in between is an armada of clouds.
If someone looked down at you from the rim up there,
You'd look like a tiny dot.
You do feel insignificant compared to the scale and age of this place.
But there's also a feeling of wonder and exhilaration.
This canyon is older than anything you know,
Even older than oceans or continents.
The different layers of rock represent a snapshot of time,
With the youngest layer at the top being 270 million years old and the oldest layer at the bottom being 1.
8 billion years old.
One tenth the age of the universe as we know it.
A thought occurs to you that you've entered the most private place on Earth where you can see essentially its oldest parts exposed.
Rocks of all shapes and sizes have fallen off the cliffs into the river over time.
The river is higher than usual for this time of year,
So it's unlikely that the boat will get caught up on any of these rocks or other debris.
But you must be vigilant and follow the river line.
Your main goal is to take your time and recharge from life beyond these canyon walls.
So you move slowly with the current,
Gliding through this abyss,
Suspended in a blue and amber haze of the in-between for a while.
Now is an excellent time to be on the water,
With the angled,
Late afternoon sunlight casting wild patterns across the rock layers.
The quality of the light is different here too.
It could be the way the canyon breathes,
With warm air rising and cool air settling that gives the colours more vibrancy and luster.
The shadows are growing longer by the minute,
So even though you haven't been on the river for long,
You start looking for a spot to stop and camp.
It seems impossible to find a place to stop because the sheer cliffs drop vertically down the river for a long time.
But then,
Just as the sun departs for good and the surface of the water has turned to shimmering lavender,
You find a little cove on the side of the river.
Above it is a narrow level terrace,
Perfect for pitching a tent.
You row over to it,
Get out and secure the boat's mooring line around a large rock.
Above on the ledge,
You pitch your tent next to a small grove of tamarisk trees and in between some scarlet monkey flowers.
And then,
You explore your terraced home surroundings for the night.
There's an alcove under an overhanging ledge in the canyon wall.
Looking over to it,
You see signs of the Pueblo Indians who lived here 800 years ago.
Dried cobs of corn litter the area,
Probably harvested during medieval times.
Nearby in Anuk are five clay pots sealed with mud.
These must have been used to store supplies like grain or agave.
You can see fingerprints and a handprint on the mud seal,
Which is almost the same size as yours.
No wrestling is the first thought!
There are no words to describe the beauty of this canyon.
The word beautiful doesn't begin to describe it.
A flower is beautiful but this,
This is beautiful in a different type of way.
Terrifying with its sheer rough edges yet seductive with its crevices that hide secrets like the clay pots.
When the light fades from the vertical walls you start to walk back to your tent.
Gathering bone-dry pieces of driftwood along the path to build a fire.
Somewhere above you hear the hollow head clunking noise of bighorn sheep fighting.
Ereering rain in the valley.
The fire lights easily.
And you relish the warmth from the flames in the chill of the evening air while you sit and watch the river flow.
Now the canyon is plunged into indigo and smudged by darkness.
Overhead,
The stars emerge.
One by one.
Soon the sky is salted with stars.
Flowing in a cosmic estuary of starlight.
Framed between the canyon's walls.
And you've hit another lottery,
The Astral lottery.
Tonight the Temple Tuddle Comet has returned to the inner solar system after decades of orbiting the sun.
As it re-enters the solar system,
It sheds gases,
Generating many shooting stars.
At first you noticed there were just one or two shooting stars.
And you started keeping a tally in your mind.
But you've lost track of counting shooting stars because there are too many.
Now it looks like a cosmic blizzard.
More in all.
Mesmerised.
Melting.
You lie back on your sleeping pad and watch.
Your heart quiets now and you lose yourself.
You deeply breathe in the peacefulness and gratitude for winning the lottery and having the experience of drifting down the Emerald River.
You lie back on your sleeping pad and watch.
