I am a one on the enneagram, The Perfectionist, The Reformer, The Critic, The Idealist, The Follower of Rules. I tell you this upfront so you feel my trepidation on our last river trip on the main Salmon.

The trip was quickly thrown together at the end of July. Five of us, three boats, two dogs. The plan was to go after permit season, as obtaining a permit in the era of the World Wide Web proves to be virtually impossible.

In the end, we arrived at the put-in with four of us, two boats, and still, two dogs.

We rigged the boats on the ramp at Corn Creek, along with several other groups. The sound of electric pumps made it difficult to communicate with each other. We’d all done enough river trips to communicate non-verbally. The dogs sat in the safety of the truck and watched so they wouldn’t get run over by a boat trailer.

The boat ramp ranger came to check us in before we packed everything onto the boats. The boat ramp ranger checks that we have all the proper equipment for our seven-day river trip. A toilet system for packing out our poop, a strainer for straining the extraneous bits of food in the dirty dish water, a trash system, a fire pan (no open fires on the beaches), an ash can to haul out the ash from our fires, and a shovel to shovel the ash from the fire pan to the ash can. The five-foot boat ramp ranger sounded like she had a megaphone in her throat. Her voice projected over all of the noisy electric air pumps. Her rehearsed speech did not miss any detail. And that’s when she said it.

“You must pack out all of your ashes.”

Oh no, I thought. We’re all going to end up in federal prison. I wanted to confess that we were bringing ashes in, I wanted to raise my hand and say, “But wait……” I didn’t say anything. I was going to go on this river trip and break the rules.

We camped at Corn Creek, as our launch date was not until the following day. The mood was good, better than expected. Considering.

The morning of our launch, Heidi and I decided we would hike the first four miles on the Salmon River trail to Horse Creek. Brett and Shannon would finish rigging their boats and pick us up. Horse Creek would be where we would leave the ashes.

The morning went as planned. We beat Brett and Shannon to the pickup point and flagged them down at the small beach upstream of Horse Creek. Heidi grabbed the ashes off Shannon’s boat. The four of us walked solemnly to the confluence of Horse Creek and the Salmon River.

The fifth person who was supposed to come on the river was now in a tube. Ashes. Heidi uncapped the tube and let the ashes of her husband fall into the water. We watched Scott float down the river. His happy place.

The day before, we had also decided that we would meditate twice a day, for ten minutes, as a group. Each day’s meditation would have an intention. Surrender was the intention for today.

We watched Scott’s ashes float away, and Brett suggested we meditate here. We all agreed. As we got set and found a comfortable place among the river rock, a jet boat went by, creating waves that lapped up on the rocks. Towards the end of our meditation, another jet boat went by, more waves. We quietly got up. We all hugged each other, happy that the ash dump was done on the first day. That’s when Heidi yelled, “Shannon! Your boat!

There it went. A boat with no rower, floating down the Salmon River on its own. The jet boats’ wake had dislodged Shannon’s cataraft from its perch on the sandy beach.

“Scott never did like it when things got serious,” Heidi said as we ran across the rocks to see if the other boat was still on the beach. “He did this!” she hollered.

Shannon headed down the trail to see if he could catch the boat downriver. The rest of us and the dogs jumped into Brett’s boat and started rowing after Shannon’s boat. It was stuck just below us on a rock by a fast-flowing eddy on the opposite side of the river. Brett tried to bump it, but the current was too fast, and we quickly floated right on by. Just below the rock was a huge sandy beach. We were able to pull over. Brett walked over the huge boulders where Shannon’s boat was hidden from our sight. He managed to jump from the rock and into the boat. He struggled to free the boat from the massive current. Just as Heidi was headed up to check on him, he came around the back side of the massive boulder. Brett crossed the river to pick up Shannon then crossed again to the beach where Heidi, the dogs, and I waited.

The whole trip, I was reading the book “Living Untethered: Beyond the Human Predicament” by Michael Singer. A spiritual book. A follow-up to the book “The Untethered Soul”, more like a procedural sequel. I finished the book, and as planned, went right back to page one and started it again. This book is a bible to spirituality.

“One of the most amazing things you will ever realize is that the moment in front of you is not bothering you – you are bothering yourself about the moment in front of you. It’s not personal – you are making it personal.”

My takeaway: It has taken billions of years of serendipitous events to reach this moment. You are merely an observer. Don’t take it personally.

The author, Michael Singer, gives realistic examples and analogies. Watch yourself when you are driving. Do you tend to get upset at drivers that you have no control over? Let it go. Don’t let this event control you and your thoughts. You are merely an observer.

I often think about the morning of August 2nd. Sitting on the bedroom floor with Heidi, watching Scott, who had died in his sleep that night. Billions of years of serendipitous events had brought us to this moment. I am merely an observer.

I highly recommend the book “Living Untethered” by Michael Singer. Read it once to get the gist. Read it twice for it to absorb into your unconscious mind. I also highly recommend the healing powers of the river, close friends, and meditation.

More book recommendations and adventures can be found at Wild About Books.