I am sitting right next to the big Thompson River whle I write this entry. Swallows dart back and forth over the surface catching unseen insects. Gentle eddies form behind each boulder in the stream. I draw an imaginary slalom through the currents, ducking into each eddy along the way. Facing upstream in my imaginary boat, I look over my shoulder for the next little eddy to catch. The water is gentle but strong as the melting snow from Longs and Meeker cascades down the rocky gorges, forming small alpine lakes that spill off the next cliff and merge with other alpine streams from other peaks to form Black Lake, Mills lake, Alberta Falls and finally the Big Thompson River where I sit, writing this entry.