The passport has been put away for another few months and I have returned once again to Wales, UK. I often get asked why I don’t move from this country and live in Nepal. Since I spend so much time in this great Himalayan country. I often think, perhaps it would be a good place to be. It is a land of great people and amazing rivers. I dream of the people, the temples and vistas. The warm spirit lives on, these once hidden kingdoms, open to all now. Its a pleasure to introduce guests and friends to the magic.
Then in the thin morning light I remember what Wales has to offer, the steep stuff, all rocks and hard places. From my door after a short drive I can be on the most magic of rivers. It is a place where the Victorians thought the fairies danced. The river Conway, Fairy Glen section. For the first small eddy- its copper colored water flows, dancing in swirls and making a waltz against the rock walls. This hidden kingdom gated by physical access impasse. The first rapid, a right stroke and your clear of the hydraulic – raw power below, punch again and the river right holds safety. You’re in the zone now. Rain, inevitable, falling from the sky. Grey rocks like broken mirrors surround you. Out of the slack and in the flow. Housed in – wall to wall. Blind bends and dark places. We catch the last small stopping point above the falls, where the river collides with itself making stoppers and waves that push in directions you never want to go. The line down is good, always should be. Make a move. Punch a wave and rest for the last driving strokes. This is quite the experience, and then it is quiet – flat for a short time, the light bounces up the gorge. The small arcs of water form on each horizon. They follow, another gateway, another place where rainbows fall and fairies parade, before long its over – still and calm. Looking back its where the open gate of the river has ejected you. Where the flumes of energy have let you breathe the magic once again. From the sky above, the sun, all too infrequent, pushes the shimmer of threads down to the exit. Droplets of water offer a darting spectrum where you can believe what the Victorian legends said.
See you in the flow Daz
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