He thought we should resist the instincts of the lower mammal and proceed. He was correct, but i haven't let him forget it. Lacking the chemistry to mark my trail, I try now to memorize important landmarks, like the sharp dead tree that sits horizontal on the left and looks like a musical score. As i pass it, i reverse my kayak to record what it would look like upon return. Four or five such markings later, i despair.
Nothing looks the same from both sides.
It's like trying to learn a long, strange alphabet backwards, so finally i give up. My friend, long used to cave-diving, thinks this is no challenge, wants to come back at night, preferably moonless, so we can really get lost. Our sense of joy is as green as the newest growth. Now and then the channel opens wide and we abandon our strokes, watching the trees and water for all that floats with us. I follow an inchworm, nearly chartreuse, bunching up its slender body and stretching forward on the water's surface.