The River Runs Through Us
A week after a canoe trip down the Edisto River, I miss floating past forest and fishing shack, field and swamp, always meeting the unexpected.
A week after a canoe trip down the Edisto River, I miss floating past forest and fishing shack, field and swamp, always meeting the unexpected: wide flat water for a stretch, narrow and tree-filled around the next bend.
We set out on a cloudy day. I eyed the current rushing past our put-in. "Is this a good idea? Am I going to drown?" After a period of i…