End of summer on the Salza

Tom beats me to kayaking. I love kayaking, but the last few weeks have flown by. And I was dead tired the whole flight. That’s actually funny. The whole world trip was much more exhausting than the work and the nights here. Nevertheless, I usually got by on six hours’ sleep. Back here, I could sleep 10 hours a day. And when I do, it’s still not enough.

We drive to Wildalpen on the Salza. After three hours on the motorway and over 100 km of winding country roads, we arrive at the Naturfreunde campsite in Wildalpen after dark. The water of the Salza is rushing at low level in the riverbed. The campfires are smoking and the air is cold at the end of a much too short summer.

Tom has two sleeping bags with him and is terrified of cold nights. It doesn’t get that cold. But the summer is over. Gernot from www.kanurafting.at is our guide. His kayaks are self-built, the tour is cosy and helpfully guided. The first waves are mild but still enough for a few successful capsize attempts. Eskimo rolls are superfluous, the water of the Salza is too low.

The only annoying thing are the numerous stones sticking out of the water. There are always two options: Left or right. I usually choose the golden centre, which in turn often leads directly into the cool water.

The first day’s tour takes almost six hours. By the evening, my arms are 4.5cm longer on both sides. Mostly from tipping the water out of the kayak. The gorges were deep, the trees green, the water turquoise and the sky blue. I’m getting old. In the evening, I just fall into bed while the boys celebrate Austria’s victory over France in the World Cup qualifiers.

On day two, it’s 10 kilometres by bus down the Salza. This is where the rough bits come. Even some rafts capsize faster than expected. Almost everyone gets wet – except Tom. I set the record for the day. Three splashdowns earned with inexperience, plus one due to stupidity and a completely superfluous entry roll are the top score.

The Salza flows through a narrow gorge. Rafters get out and jump from high rocks. The sun is gone. Summer is over. I fall back into bed in the evening.

My long journey is over. And yet somehow not yet. I’m tired almost all the time. Not because I’m doing more, I’m doing less. But I’m experiencing less with the same effort. The lack of great experiences makes me tired.

Cut. An evening at a wine tavern. Bush’s former right-hand man is there. Looks so sweet and talks so sweetly. In the pictures from the 60s next to the entrance, the right hand is laughing. I take a close look at his hand. I want to know what hands that can crush worlds look like.