White water
Murray, having paddled the Dusi and Fish, was nonplussed by the amount of froth on offer in the river and ferried Christine through without fanfare. To balance the universe, Kobus and I decided to fall out within 30 seconds and inspect the rapid from the inside. The scenery along the river banks glided past serenely and the drone of rapids alternated with the tranquillity of the pools and stretches inbetween. It was clear that the geology of the area was special, with some amazingly artistic rock formations and piles of stones scattered about. It’s an ancient landscape that has seen many hundreds of thousands of seasons, floods and droughts. At this time of year the Cederberg was showing us its softer side, almost like a ballad from a heavy metal band, with flowers carpeting the soil, mild daytime temperatures and water gurgling in what is usually a parched, thorny, scrubby desert. Beautiful!
At the rate the river was flowing, a good speed could be maintained while enjoying an avocado ritz (avo in one hand, John West sachet in the other) or lapping up water dog-like over the side of the boat. I exited the vehicle one more time at a minor rapid, just for good measure, before we glided up to the transition on the river bank.
“The delightful Doring”
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