The Cheoah is a quintessential Appalachian river: a stream of clear, cold water making its way from higher elevations, swirling around — and shaping — the boulders and rocks that had been part of the mountains on either side of the river channel.

I could sit and watch the water for hours, hearing its song as it smashes into rocks, curls around a fallen log, burbles above obstacles hidden below, and moves ever downward.