Later that night, Layla and I talked a lot about all the stuff that happened to us, about the gold we never found and the ghosts that never got us. We talked about a lot more stuff, some of it too personal to put down here. But, I think we will stay friends for a long time.

Now this is the last thing we are supposed to do here—write down everything that happened, how we got here and how we feel. I hope I did a good job. I’m not just writing this so people will think I’ve learned my lesson and let me go home. I really have learned my lesson. And even though I want to go home, I know I’ll miss fishing, going to sleep under the Big Sky, and Layla. But, mostly I will miss the flow of the river. I’ll miss that feeling that it may go faster or slower, or get colder or muddier or fishier, but it just keeps flowing, without end.