It was a troublesome afternoon and I needed to chase down a piece of life before I tied the bow on the day. There are few things I need in times of solace, my bike, my backpack, my swimsuit, a notebook and sometimes a couple of cold beers. I threw on the pack and headed to the river. I recently moved from living directly on the Guadalupe River, so I've had to settle with an intentional commute to adventure. But hell, I was made for the river, so I'll take anything.
7 miles and thirty minutes later I arrived at my favorite spot. Immediately, I dropped the sweaty clothes and hopped into a refreshing bath of vitality. I've been investigating a theory over the years on skin buds, like taste buds, but even more quenching and satisfying. The beer came next, and needless to say, all of my thirsts had been quenched. The sun was quickly fading as I used my backpack as a pillow and soaked in the evening air. A man came over to the area I was sitting and sparked up a conversation. His droopy eyes told me he too was worn out. He carried a chocolate bar, a tall boy and a homemade frisbee which showed me he might also be seeking life that evening. As much as I wanted to be alone in that moment, I felt a kindred spirit beside me, and continued to engage. He shook my hand and told me his name was Leon. Leon just got through trying out a new frisbee he made at the park's frisbee golf course, it was over weighted and unsuccessful so he wandered over to another usual place of solitude for himself. He lives a literal walk-in-the-park away from the river and said he comes almost nightly to spear-fish. In his pocket, he pulled out 4 different lights, a mixture of small flashlights and headlights. He described the spear of welded aluminum sharpened to a point and attached to a wooden handle with ropes for reeling the spear back in. The lights were essential to eying the perfect target in dark evening river water. Leon is homemade like that. After a long conversation about his disdain for "The Man," and the appreciated independent spirit his father had woven into him, I could see that much of who this man is and what belongs to him was a product of hard work and self-determination. And through the resourseful characteristics and evident physical strength this man carried, I could see through the droopy restless eyes a well travelled spirit of weariness. Leon was eager to show me his lights. Small but mighty, the beam illuminated the tiny croppy fish circling the floor of the river and eyes of small catfish and crawfish marbelled in the light. We started to notice the abundance of crawfish along the side of the bank. They were in many different sizes, small, average and what seemed like mini-lobsters. The claws were intimidating but the crawfish kept climbing even with the bright light blinding their ascent. They became closer and closer as they crept up the side of the bank. "Grab one!" Leon said. It wasn't until a few weeks prior that I had even tasted my first crawfish. I personally have been a vegetarian for over ten years but would never miss an opportunity to forage my own food. If I lived a more savage lifestyle and spent my days hunting and foraging, I would eagerly consume meat, but since I hate the industrial farming and production systems, I opt out. So I was not going to miss an opportunity to learn to catch a nice tender piece of freshwater meat. "Teach me!" I replied. I've caught mussels, shrimp and oysters with my bare hands, but never crawfish, mostly because of the seemingly dreadful claws. Leon had me hold the light as he waited for the crawfish to climb up the bank to an arms-length away, he held out his arm over the water ready and waiting to catch the crawfish from behind. Just as the little guy inched exactly close enough, Leon swiftly swung his hand behind the claws of the fish and pinched just above the tail but close enough to get a good hold of the back without getting pinched. He handed the frightened, tense creature to me and showed me just where to place my fingers. There is a perfect spot behind what seems to be the shoulders of the crawfish that somewhat paralyzes their claws from reaching back and causes their muscles to tighten up and freeze. It feels like a tiny, flexed muscles in between your two fingers. Before it was my turn to step up to the plate, I wanted to experience the wost possible scenario to release any lingering fear. So, Leon took the crawfish in his hands and let the little guy squeeze my finger with his claws. I was as noted beforehand that it doesn't hurt as bad as one would think and rest assured, I agreed. It was a small pressure, kind of like someone with long fingernails pinching you, but only for a fleeting moment and the creature released the grip leaving no lingering sting. "I can do this," I thought. So I followed Leon's lead, listened to his coaching throughout the process and pounced on several crawfish. Those quick critters kept slipping through my fingers. I needed to be faster, sneakier, smoother. I asked Leon to do it again as I studied his agility. I envisioned the technique, encouraged myself to be faster and smarter than the fish and I went for it again. I zoned in, making eye-contact with my prey and aimed the placement of my hand to a hovering position around his back, he got just to the right place, at my arms-length and I dropped my hand in the water at full speed and focus, grabbed the slimy back and squeezed as tight as I pulled up a splashing, red, shelly creature with claws dancing in fear. I jumped up and down in excitement and wanted to kiss the little fish, but figured a pinched lip might have a different impact so I set the scared crustacean back in the water. Quickly after the excitement, Leon and I noticed the half-moon's reflection on the water and a shimmering star by it's side. The night was calm, peaceful, and in a moment's sigh I felt the bow beautifully tying around my day. I got on my bike to head home and Leon noticed I did not have a light. After many light falls, crashes and breaks, I gave up on replacing them for a while. Leon reached into his pocket and pulled out a flashlight that we tied to my front handle bars and then used his headlamp to tie to the back rack. I knew he loved those lights and as much as I insisted, as I always do, that I am fine and could make it on my own, he insisted. I told him when fate brought us back together, I would return the lights, until then I have them to remember a treasured person on a treasured night. So I biked home, with a heart full of life and a spirit full of light.
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AuthorKatie Elizabeth: Writer, Wonderer, Wanderer. Archives
January 2022
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