Читать книгу Canoeing with Jose онлайн

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Invariably, the officer would nod suspiciously in response, then run our names for warrants. But the trickiest part of these interrogations was inventing answers in response to that last question: Why are you doing this? The question always seemed to imply that no sane person would undertake such a journey without sinister motives. Here too, though, I went with a clipped version of the truth: the trip was about physical and spiritual renewal.

This last point almost always signaled closure to these absurd exchanges, greeted as it was by looks of utter astonishment. For as anyone who is even vaguely familiar with the Red River knows, it is one of the most unforgiving waterways in America. And yet, the torture entailed by canoeing 10 or 12 hours each day to cover 30 or 40 miles, eating and sleeping on riverbanks that were essentially mud pits, baking under the withering sun, and freezing through frequent cloudbursts was, for us both, a welcome respite from the heartache and stress that had come to dominate our lives in Saint Paul. Particularly in this first stage of the journey, our days on the river entailed a strong element of self-mutilation. The physical pain and demands of the travel relieved our suffering hearts.