OK - so using the blog to blog, but also I kinda wanta write about my experiences tonight in a story/narrative format. So ya here I go:
As I turned to lock the door on the office as I was the last one out, I could feel the sun beating down on my back. The heat hit me as soon as I stepped outside, and I was almost tempted to go find something to do for another hour or two just so I could stay inside the air-conditioned comfort of my basement office. As I began the 10 minute walk from the Colorado State Campus where I work to my 3rd-floor studio, I thought back on the first half of the week, the sweat building on my brow and dripping down my sunglasses in the 90-degree plus heat that still had its grip on Fort Collins at 5:30pm.
The week had been long insofar as it was Wednesday night and I had already worked close to 30-plus hours. The vast majority of this time had been spent indoors, and with only 3 weeks left in Colorado, I knew I wanted to spend some time outside once I had the chance - even if it meant venturing out into this heat wave. The night before I had made an exciting purchase - a brand new mask, snorkel, and fins; a gift from my parents leading up to my Virgin Islands adventure. Its a somewhat strange feeling to buy a complete snorkeling package in the middle of landlocked Fort Collins, Colorado.
Perhaps it was that I was just excited to have a night off, and excited to try out my new gear, but I decided I needed to have a little Fort Collins adventure of my own. It took about 10 seconds of sitting in my oven-like studio before I decided I would head out to the river.
I packed up my gear, hopped on my bike and pedaled for Lee Martinez park just north of town. I had never taken this route on my bike before, and enjoyed checking out some paths and trails on the way down to the river that had previously been foreign to me. It's amazing that in literally 3 minutes I had gone from downtown Fort Collins to a gorgeous meadow with a view of the mountains to the West, bordered on all sides by a lush greenbelt. Another minute or so of laid-back pedaling and I arrived at my destination: A large rusted over bridge that served as a crossing for one of the many bike paths that zigzagged past the river.
I walked up to the the top of the bridge just as two women on horseback crossed by. I think they may have noticed the bright yellow swim fins sticking out of my backpack and gave me an inquisitive look - I just looked back, you don't see horses at the city park everyday either! Looking straight down, I could clearly see the bottom of the river and the smooth stones and sand that lined it. I crossed to the other side of the bridge and walkd down the bank away. I found a spot w/ some big old, twisted tree roots that looked like they'd be pretty good steps.
The air was hot - but that didn't keep the water tempeture from shocking my system. I lowered myself down into the melted rocky mountain snow that I know makes up this river. I swam out a ways, my feet still easily touching the bottom. "OK," I thought,"this isn't bad, now lets see how the gear works!" I paddled back over to the bank and began putting on my new stuff. First the mask, I swim out and take a look.. works great! Then the fins and snorkle. I'm off!
As I began to float on the surface and swim out to the middle of the thin, shallow (at no point was the bottom more than 4 feet from the surface), I was surprised by the force of the current. It immediately began to push me downstream and my new fins were put to work as I pumped my legs in an attempt to stay in one place.
I was completely enjoying myself, but it should be said: snorkeling in a river is a little eery, and I'd even go so far as to say "freaky." The thing is, you have no idea white might be floating downstream - and even though the water was very clear, there is still a cloudiness that makes anything more than 3-4 feet away a potential snake/scary fish/dead body/part of dead body/of fresh water lemon shark (thats what my granny would say, anyway). But as I said, with the exception of these somewhat morbid and scary thoughts flashing through my brain, I was really into this river snorkeling thing.
By this point the sun was just disappearing behind the the foothills in the distance, but there was still enough like where there was plenty to see. I began to dive down under the 4 or 5 feet of water to explore the bottom, expecting to see rocks, sand, and not much else. So when something moved next to my hand on the first dive down I jumped back pretty quick! I had discovered a defensive little crawdad, claws up to warn me away from his rock. He was crawling back and forth, and had flecks of bright red and blue spread across his muddy colored exoskeleoton. I hung out with him for awhile, diving down several more times to watch him patrol his rock home, always spinning to keep claws up to me - warding me off I suppose.
I let the current do its thing and pull me down further, passing underneath the bridge until I looked down to see an area that was a lot more fine sand than stones. It was a little deeper here as well, and I could feel the strain in my calve muscles as I kicked to stay near the bottom in the very middle of the river's flow. I dove down a few times, checkout out some cool colored and smooth rocks, and an ancient bottle of St. Pauli or some other import beer. As I drifted off to one side of the river and the bank, I noticed something shiny and reached down into the sand to discover a fully functional Timex watch (the clasp had been broken). It was strange to see the correct time, date blinking up at me half-buried in the sand at the bottom of what seemed such an untouched, natural place. I pocketed the watch - lets face it more than one Timex has been lost in the Cache le Poudre, so I think I can lay claim to this one without calling in the cops - and began a slow swim back towards where I had first dipped into the icy water.
Just before I reached my exit point, crawdad number one's big brother showed up! I thought this guy was a lobster on the loose at first. He was a big one, and if you threw him in a pot w/ some corn, potatoes, and a few more of his friends you'd have a good meal on your plate. Anyway, he was all interested in me, and I dove down repeatedly to visit. I stuck out what was left of the watch wristband and he was all over it with his claws, pinching and grabbing, jumping off his rock to try and get hold. It was interesting, at first this little guy seemed to be saying - hey I'm the king of this place, getting up on the back 2 of his 6 little legs to ward me off. But as I dove down again he seemed to be jumping up and trying to grab hold - maybe he noticed my bright yellow mask and wanted to tag along with me next month as I change latititude in an attempt to change his little Colorado crawdad attitude.
I crawled out of the water, and dried off just as the last of the bright orange sun snuck behind the foothills, leaving a watercolor mix of purples, pinks, reds, and oranges in the western sky. I walked out to a large field beyond some trees and just to the north of the river, standing and watching as the colors filled the sky and then slowly receded behind the front range's jagged horizon.
As I hopped onto my creaky old mountain bike and crossed back over the river, slowly taking in the sounds, sights, and smells around me as night crept over the park, I thought to myself, now that was a pretty damn interesting night - river snorkeling in Fort Collins. Just as I was thinking things couldn't get much more fulfilling or interesing, a fox jumped out in front of me, his coat just as bright and orange as the sun had been a few minutes before.
I rode home with soaking wet shorts, a bagful of soggy snorkel stuff, and a brand new Timex watch. I stopped off at 7-11, picked up two hot dogs, a "super" big gulp, and realized when you think about it... life is pretty good.
