Wanderlust

Looking Into The past

It has always been a desire of mine to start at the spring near Marshfield, Mo. where the Niangua River rises from its cradle and begins its erratic journey across several miles around high limestone bluffs, past fields and hollows to finally bury itself in the Lake of the Ozarks. What a spectacular expedition that would have been. The Niangua River like all free flowing streams are haunted with many secrets and are not given up easily and should not be. To stand on a high ridge and look out over the broad expanse of land as the river meanders past ageless stone bluffs where secrets of the past abound and often in the early dawn when river fog is rising these secrets are more evident than at anytime of the day. It is easy for me I think, to see beyond the river of today where long lines of boisterous weekend floaters do not exist. I can see in the fog another people where pole lodges stand and their images sway and too soon they are gone for a time. In reality all that is left are remnants, fragile reminders that frequently have been selfishly destroyed. Yet my journey along the Niangua River basin has been wondrous to say the least, for I have traveled beyond the realm of my world to stand where few of my kind have been. Adios