I can hear the sound of falling water from my bed. It’s coming from my left only a few yards from where I parked my car. It’s the 5 foot water fall feeding the beautiful (and surprisingly full) creek canyon directly below my hatchback. I pulled my car to the very edge for this exact reason. I hang my feet off the side of my car and contemplate what it would feel like to jackknife into the December Texas water. “If only Matt Lowe were here to encourage me,” I say quietly to myself. “It’s deep enough for sure. And I could use the shower.” Today would be the day to do it. I postpone for another day, making a mental note that I need to come back to this place. I decide to start my day. I grab a wash-rag and my water bottle and find my way to the creek bed below. I squat. I place my rag in the water and bring it to my face. Cold, but so refreshing. I’m in no hurry. I fill my water bottle and head back up. I slide the pull-out table from my hatchback and assemble my stove. I pour the fresh creek water into a pot and begin boiling. 2 minutes 10 seconds it takes to boil but I leave it rolling for another minute to kill any mitochondria or protozoa that might be still lingering. Done. I disassemble and sit again. Sipping my coffee, returning to my thoughts about swimming. I’ve got nowhere to be today. Perhaps I’ll stay here and write.