6 days in July. A vacation of sorts.
I could lay it all out by the numbers. Tell you that we drove 10 hours one-way to do 6 floats and 3 bike rides, while meeting 47 new people and averaging 26.7mpg.
That we snarfed 12 breakfast purritos, 5 gucci salami's, 4 bags of chips, 3 pounds of cheese, 2 boxes of wine, and one tub of chocolate toffee waffles.
I could attempt to quantify the volume of wood potentially 'in play' on each of the creeks we ran. Or the vertical feet of fall line trail we scorched on Lithium.
I could list the gazillions of flowers and mere millions of bugs as evidence of, uh, something.
Might somehow be able to put a number to the frequency with which we caught eddies or surfed waves.
Could probably quantify how 20 seconds can seem like so much more:
But the numbers, in this case, simply miss the point.
How can you put a number to the group glow felt when closing a sunset loop on Parallel Trail?
Of what value is it to say "I swam X times and rolled X times" when the specific lessons imparted by each require deliberately stepping out of your comfort zone for the simple purpose of learning?
What number could you possibly wrap around getting to be in a place like this, with people like these?
How can you quantify a grin like this?
The simple answer is that you simply can't.
An inability to append numbers to a fantastic 6 days does not in any way diminish the quality of those days.
Conversely, to my simple mind, that fact serves to point up how priceless and unquantifiable they actually were.