Holding Space: A Reflection on the Water
Sunset on the Lower Salmon River
As I dipped my oars into the river, a noisy world melted away. In the space of an hour, I saw a great blue heron, an adolescent black bear, and two golden eagles. I heard the upstream wind, the gurgling white noise of a riffle, and the splashes of fish taunting the anglers in my group. On this recent trip down the lower Salmon River, I witnessed many small wonders. One of the best elements of this journey, however, was what I did NOT experience.
There was no social media. No election. No war. No soccer dad-style dance of a household schedule. No phone. No distraction.
There was simply this river corridor, myself, and the wonderful people who shared this journey with me.
Confluence of the Snake and the Salmon Rivers
People retreat to places like this river every year, but it would be a mistake to believe it’s solely about running rapids. True, whitewater is a helluva thrill. The feeling of guiding a boat down a maze of rocks and holes is fun and empowering. Looking back upstream at a rapid you’ve just greased is a shot of self-confidence straight to the brain. The interplay of adrenaline and puzzle-solving is gloriously fun.
But I suspect this isn’t what draws (most) people like a magnet from all across the nation to Idaho’s backcountry. I would lay good money on a more primal reason. We all need space – space to reset, recharge, and rekindle ourselves.
Nothing gives context to our life like stepping outside of it. When we break the routine and get out to a wild place, it’s like inhaling a breath of fresh air for the soul. That bighorn sheep doesn’t care about spreadsheets. The river is unconcerned with traffic lights and top-of-the-hour headlines.
What is it about these spaces that rejuvenates visitors so completely?
The answer is likely in that very word – space. They provide room to breathe, visually and spiritually. Our ‘real life’ grows noisier. We are hit on all sides by bad news, advertising, and distractions. Our phones keep our heads down, rather than taking in the sunset or noticing the sound of wind in the trees.
Public lands are American treasures for many reasons, but one of the most vital, I think, is what they provide to our mental health. Few things can reset your mood like a hike in the mountains, casting a line into the river, or waking up in your sleeping bag at 3am to see the Milky Way. These spaces are ours, regardless of whether they are labeled NPS, BLM, USFS, etc.
Today we face increasing efforts to develop or sell off our public lands. There are arguments to be made FOR this pressure, but they all ultimately boil down to one thing – money. They are attempts to trade our nation’s most treasured and beloved assets for money. It is shortsighted thinking about a limited resource. Once it’s gone, it’s not coming back.
Quiet is not merely the absence of noise, but the presence of stillness. Here is my call to action: find some time to go out into our public lands, and see if you can find a moment of stillness, of peace. Recharge your batteries, then come back to the real world, and help us preserve the treasure of wild spaces. Please support IRU in our ongoing efforts to protect rivers – and the public lands that surround them.
