A couple days ago we put our boats in the Clearwater, a friendly little spring-fed river that S-curves its way through the spruce forest.
After eight miles, the Clearwater flows into the Tanana River, which is a highway of suspended silt, a major tributary of the Yukon River, and wide enough that we could paddle side by side with our friends and talk.
We try to do this float every year and always stop at the same south facing bluff and go for a hike to see the first flowers of Spring.
I searched for an Eagle’s nest I remembered seeing on the bluff a few years ago. I knew the nest had fallen because I hadn’t seen it last year. I thought I’d find the remains, a big pile of sticks on the ground, but instead all I found was this.
The fish head was so dry that it had no odor. And it’d been there a while, probably several years, because there was moss growing on it.
Back on the river we encountered lots of ice still holding onto the bank on the north side.
I knew it wouldn’t be getting dark until August so I didn’t bring a watch. We were paddling from one point to another and it’d take however long it takes—that’s River Time.
I think the same is true when you’re writing a book. You might have word or page-count goals, but it’ll take however long it takes and hopefully you’ll enjoy the journey along the way.
We’re hopping on an airplane in a couple of days, bound for Indiana and then New York City. I’ll still be online much of the time and hopefully working on my new WIP, too. I have a general outline, and am 17,000 words into the first draft.
What are you up to this week? Do you get much writing done when you travel? I hope I will.