The Unknown Creek

The stream is new, an unknown creek.
It piques my curiosity.
The narrow winding turns bespeak
its gentle sinuosity.

My latest obsession is a smaller creek in central New Brunswick. I've decided not to tell you its name.

The last time I was dreaming of running a small local forgotten creek ... it was the Becaguimec, I seem to recall ... other folks researched it and ran it before I could. I'm not blaming them for going, the time was right. But I was jealous.

I was recovering from surgery on my foot at the time, in early May of course, and could not have gone anyway. I enjoyed their photos and stories very much.


Between the banks I softly pass,
alders leaning in the flow.
Flowers fair in emerald grass
nod and wave as on I go.

I'm sure there are no "first" descents left in New Brunswick. The man or woman who first ran the rivers in these parts did exist, I know, but their names are forever lost to history.

Still, I crave to be the only person in recent memory to venture down the "unknown" stream. Maybe, for some New Brunswick streams, I am the only one who has. And it's okay by me if just I and the river know.

But I'll reveal the name of my stream only to my wife and to my brother's wife, as we file our route plan with them. Then we'll head out the door on our way.

So here it is in July, long after spring runoff and rains. The woods have dried out, and the watercourses are cobblestones, too low to float upon. But I still believe I'm going to get out this summer on my secret river. It's bound to rain here again before too long, I know!!!.

Birdlets sing
then take wing
as down the dappled stream I float.
Violets sprout,
and silver trout
dart and quiver neath my boat.

It will only take a little while to pack. My brother and I are waiting for the next high water to drive out the logging roads that lead to its headwaters. If he can't go, he'll do the shuttle for me and I'll go alone. There are no real rapids, after all.

I swear this time I won't make the usual mistake, which is to get impatient and go on the river in low water. We've all been there, I'm sure.

And if you've been on my "unknown" river before me, I won't mind.

Adventure calls
down sunlit halls.
I live my fondest dream.
I'm free at last,
there is no past.
My future is the stream.

Sometimes I just Gotta Go


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