AdobeStock _ 140114543 . By shpak
AdobeStock _ 157570776 . By Carol
I made my life around the rivers . My career and business moved with the seasons , and my friendships were based on the transient pathways of river guides around the globe . All my choices and plans depended on rainfall , the monsoon , and the snowmelt . It was part of me – running through me .
Just as I was about to set off for another Himalayan season , everything halted . Covid and UK lockdown hit . Within an hour , I had refunded all my clients . I sat alone on the sofa , looking at the picture of Poon Hill in the frame opposite . Everything I had known now paused . I waited .
Those days I was waiting brought nothing that I expected . It didn ’ t bring peace – the solitude was loud and all-encompassing . I would rock on the floor in the foetal position – no amount of experience in deep gorges would matter now . I had to reframe . I had to break this cycle . I took up running – it showed me that we need to have adventure , but it ’ s not therapy . Like many say , “ paddling is my therapy ”, NO ! This devalues both adventure and therapy . I had to explore , and my local street became as important as the old majestic temples of Kathmandu , each road a new gorge to delve into . Things that had to be faced , stuff that adventure had whitewashed .
Inside the hidden gorges , my mind races time and again .
LOSING FRIENDS I remember the ghosts now , those friends that eddied out too soon . Those who had passed away on a river – the ones who sat alone at the bar a shadow of their former selves remembering lost friends . Was it when I started paddling class 5 that I remember losing friends to the river ? Nope – it had happened way before . The risks we take are covered over with smiles and bad jokes .
ThePADDLER 7