Part I: Solo trip or death sentence? • an eclipse on the river • just some regular old symmetry-focused topographic detective work.
On the beach at Sand Wash, I’d been chatting with a dude, let’s call him “Guy,” about the first expeditions down the Green and Colorado rivers. For over two hours.
“So you’re a Powell fella,” he’d observed. Our kindred spirits took it from there, as we chatted about books, theories, and favorite tales — all colored by Guy’s tendency to swear like a sailor at a spelling bee.