There is a slight ache in my hands. I look at them as I drive. They are still wrinkled from being in the water earlier and the salt has made them a little leathery. The pain is the result of having the blood driven from my hands by the wet, windy cold. Remembrance of that is balanced by the warmth of the people I had been with. I forget how much I enjoy being surrounded by paddlers, people I know by name, reputation or face. Sharing the time had been fun. Back at the Eddy the movie showed me places that Alex and I had talked about paddling once upon a time. It was a good day.
Bill Littlefield’s voice is on the radio for the second time in 12 hours and I am heading home. Easter is tomorrow.
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