From our Corner | April Musings
A life + studio update,
I’m writing this end-of-month musing from beside a towering pile of river gear: a rolled-up Paco pad, a brand-spankin’-new PFD, a strap kit that weighs roughly 40 pounds, and two—no, three—wait, four dry bags packed with river clothes, camp clothes, extra clothes, party clothes. There’s a heavy-duty ammo can and a crate that now holds more NA beers and bubbly waters than the hard whiskey it once did. Ah, growing up.
Yes, it’s that time of year again—my inaugural river trip is about to begin. To the Big Ditch I go, to row the Grandest of Canyons.
As I enter my 10th year of river guiding, my priorities—both personal and professional—have started to shift. If you had asked me five years ago what I wanted most, the answer would have been simple: more rivers. Everything in my life revolved around them. I was spending close to 100 days on the water each summer, jumping from one trip to the next with hardly a day off. I wanted to row dories, lead trips, and work on the most “prestigious” stretches. If I wasn’t on the river, I was talking about the river. That’s a common mentality for those who work deeply in the outdoor world.
These days, I find myself drawn to different rhythms. I love slow mornings on the couch with my cats, a book, and a good cup of coffee. I enjoy tinkering on house projects, finding comfort in routines, and living a life where my bags stay unpacked and I sleep in my own bed. I’m energized by time spent growing my creative small business, and I’ve come to really value being grounded in my community—getting to know the people and programs that bring life to the town of Salmon.
This year, I’ll be guiding just three commercial multi-day river trips—a far cry from the 13 or 14 I used to take on. And honestly? It feels really good.
Lately, spring has been shouting its arrival. White and purple blooms, sunshine interrupted by bursts of rain, and evenings that stretch longer each day. My favorite thing this season has been walking into town from my house—whether to meet friends for a drink or grab groceries. As I stroll down the hill and cross the bridge into town, I’m in awe of the Salmon River. Soon, it’ll near its high spring flow, depending on what the weather decides to do in the coming weeks.
Right now, it’s full of energy. Its blue-brown waters carry sediment from over a hundred miles upstream and will journey hundreds more before meeting the Snake, the Columbia, and eventually the Pacific Ocean. As I stand on the bridge and watch its swirling eddies, the scent hits me: fresh dirt and cool water, crisp and oh so familiar.
If you know, you know.
It’s river season, baby.
Feeling invigorated,
Sarah
