Fatal Descent

by Beth Groundwater

  He parked and jogged over to Rob and Mandy. “I’m sorry. I had so much trouble getting to sleep, worrying about Elsa’s reaction to me showing up unannounced, that I slept through the alarm. Thank God I asked for a wake-up call, too, but that came twenty minutes late.”

  “No problem.” Rob clamped a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Remember you’re on vacation now. While you’re stowing your stuff in the back of the truck, I’ll get you some breakfast. How do you take your coffee?”

  Looking relieved, Paul answered, “Black will do.” He ran back to his car.

  Rob winked at Mandy. “There’s always one.”

  She rolled her eyes. While he went inside the building, she helped Paul secure his dry bag in the back of the truck. Paul climbed into the van’s only empty seat, next to his daughter, Tina, in the third row. Elsa Norton, sitting on the other side of Tina, didn’t acknowledge his presence and stared out her window. The Anderson clan filled the last two rows in the back, and the three girlfriends were in the second row.

  Once Rob had returned with Paul’s coffee, donut, and banana, Mandy climbed in the front seat next to Gonzo. Then they were off, heading west, with the rising sun blazing through the rear window. As soon as they were on the way, Gonzo got on his knees, facing the back of the van. He had been reading up on Native American rock art. Since there was a good example along the ride, he was going to brief the clients on it before they stopped to get out and look at the panel.

  “On the way to the put-in,” he shouted, “we’re going to see some awesome petroglyphs right on the side of the road, so get your cameras out. Anyone know the difference between petroglyphs and pictographs?”

  He waited.

  Mandy turned around and saw that Paul Norton’s face had a smug expression, but he wasn’t volunteering what he knew.

  When no one piped up, Gonzo explained, “Pictographs were painted on cliff walls with natural paints made from crushed minerals or plants of different colors mixed with a binder made from fats or blood.”

  He paused. After Tina Norton wrinkled her nose and issued the “Eew” he was waiting for, he added, “Now that’s one way to suffer for your art! But we’re not going to see pictographs today. We’re going to see petroglyphs. They were chipped into the dark desert patina or rock varnish you find on a lot of the sandstone cliffs, exposing the lighter sandstone underneath. The way to remember the difference is that the root words ‘petro’ and ‘glyph’ mean ‘rock’ and ‘carve’ and ‘picto’ and ‘graph’ mean ‘paint’ and ‘write.’”

  Mandy turned around again to make sure everyone was comfortable and could hear. In the back row, the two older Andersons were straining forward, heads cocked. Adding to their difficulty in hearing was the fact that Alice was talking softly, but laughing loudly, to her sister’s husband, Les, sitting next to her in the row in front of her parents.

  Mandy put a hand on Gonzo’s arm to stop him. She shouted over the seat back, “Excuse me. Is anyone having trouble hearing Gonzo?”

  Diana and Hal nodded and raised their hands.

  “Gonzo’s already talking as loudly as he can. Could everyone keep it down so the folks in the back can hear him?”

  She waited, and Les stopped laughing and straightened. The van was silent except for Alice, until the woman sensed everyone’s gaze and stopped. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

  “Thank you,” Mandy said.

  Gonzo resumed his spiel, explaining that no one knows the true meanings of the various rock art symbols. Anthropological experts and modern tribes descended from the ancestral Puebloans who created the rock art all have different interpretations.

  Before facing forward, Mandy glanced back to see if Diana and Hal were okay. Hal caught her eye and gave her a thumbs-up. Alice’s glowering stare back was unnerving, however, but she remained silent. Mandy returned her gaze to the meandering road in front of her. Sometimes on guided trips she felt like she was a kindergarten teacher or a cat herder.

  “There’s always one,” Kendra said in a low whisper.

  Mandy nodded. “I’m afraid that’s going to become our mantra for this trip.”

  _____

  By mid-morning, after the hustle and bustle of loading the rafts, everyone picking which raft they were going to ride in and launching, Mother Nature had worked her magic on Mandy again. The sun’s warmth, the peaceful open surroundings, and the calmly flowing water of the mud-brown Colorado River eased the tension out of her shoulders and put a smile on her face. The towering red sandstone cliffs of Meander Canyon on either side of the river drew her gaze, and her spirits, skyward.

  She rested her oars and drank deeply from her water bottle while she watched a peregrine falcon circle overhead in the clear blue expanse. She pointed it out to Elsa and Tina Norton, who had opted to sit in the front of her heavily laden supply raft. That way, they were separated from Paul, who was in one of the nearby paddle rafts being guided by Kendra and Gonzo. The three women watched the hawk spot its prey, swoop down, and disappear behind a willow bush on the shore. Then it rose again with some small creature wriggling in its talons.

  “Poor thing.” Tina shielded her eyes from the blazing, late-morning sun as she watched the hawk leave.

  “I’m sure there are many more mice or moles where that one came from,” Elsa replied. “And that beautiful bird may have a nest full of hungry babies to feed. It’s survival of the fittest. The strong flourish, and the weak don’t, rightfully so.”

  Mandy thought maybe Elsa was no longer referring to the falcon or the mouse, but to someone closer to home. That was confirmed when Tina frowned and glanced at her father in Kendra’s raft just in front of them.

  Kendra had positioned him in the rear next to her after watching his feeble paddling strokes. She was talking to him, giving him some pointers. All of the guides would be doing that with the less-experienced paddlers in the next few days, getting them prepared for the big water near the end of the trip.

  Looking hopefully at her mother, Tina said, “Those who are weak in some areas may be strong in others. Everyone should get a chance to prove themselves.”

  “I know you’re not talking about that damn mouse anymore,” Elsa said curtly. “I gave your father plenty of chances.” Her freezing glare at him in Kendra’s raft made Mandy shiver involuntarily. “Our marriage is over,” Elsa continued. “I’ve moved on.” She buried her nose in her paperback mystery novel, ending the conversation.

  Tina sighed and gave a Mandy a weak smile. She held a romance novel in her hand but didn’t seem anxious to read it, so Mandy asked her what she did when she wasn’t studying or taking classes. Tina was soon chatting happily about her experiences volunteering at a preschool for underprivileged children.

  Listening with one ear, Mandy scanned the other rafts. Rob was oaring the other supply raft, with Cool O’Day snoozing in the front. Besides Paul Norton, Kendra had the three female friends in her paddle raft. They seemed to be getting along well with her, asking for pointers and listening to her advice. Being a birdwatcher, Viv had watched the falcon, too, with the binoculars strung around her neck.

  Gonzo, in the lead paddle raft, had gotten stuck with all six of the Anderson clan. The parents, Diana and Hal, sat in the back with him. They happily swatted ineffectively at the water with their paddles while Gonzo and their son, Alex, took turns giving them advice and demonstrating. Les Williams had started out with powerful strokes in the front of the raft. But when he realized they were never going to go much faster than the relentlessly slow river current in Meander Canyon, he gave up and rested his paddle in his lap.

  His wife, Amy, and sister-in-law, Alice, had yet to show much interest in paddling. Amy was painting her toenails to match her manicure. Mandy had to laugh that someone would think of bringing nail polish on a whitewater river camping trip.

  Alice sat with arms crossed while she quietly scanned the ri
ver banks, looking bored. She had only asked Gonzo one question so far, what the piles of foam floating in the river were. Her repulsed expression revealed that she thought they were some kind of pollution or waste.

  The guides had used the opportunity to explain that the foam piles were natural phosphates washed off the native yucca plants during rainstorms. Kendra scooped up some on a paddle and let Paul and the three women feel its slimy smoothness between their fingers. Gonzo did the same for the passengers in his raft, but Alice refused to touch it.

  “Hey, Paul,” Gonzo shouted to Kendra’s raft. “I noticed you brought a fishing rod. Catfish love to slurp the bugs that get stuck in those foam piles. So a good place to throw your line is into a big batch of foam, like the one stuck behind that sandbar.” He pointed and Paul replied with a thumbs-up signal.

  “You catch ’em, we’ll fry ’em.” Gonzo shouted and returned the thumbs-up.

  Hal asked Gonzo, “You get any trout in the Colorado?”

  “At the headwaters, shoot yeah, but not here,” he replied. “Water’s too muddy and doesn’t hold enough oxygen for them. ’Bout all you’ll find in this part of the river is bottom feeders like catfish, chub and carp.”

  Hal crossed his arms. “Not very good eating.”

  “That’s what cornmeal, onions, and secret spices are for,” Gonzo replied.

  Amy cocked her head. “What secret spices?”

  “My special recipe. Can’t tell you what’s in it, because … it’s a secret!”

  While Gonzo laughed and the others smiled, Alice gave only a dismissive sniff. After a conversation about campfire recipes started up between Gonzo, Amy, and Diana, Alice yawned and licked her lips. She turned around and interrupted the conversation to ask Gonzo for a bottle of water. He passed one to her through Alex, and she took it without thanking either of them.

  Mandy remembered that the whole Anderson family, except for Alex, had treated the guides like porters at the put-in. The five of them had stood off to the side, talking about the ugly structures of the Potash mine just upstream and taking photos. The others had done all of the work, lugging gear and rafts between the vehicles and the river bank. The Andersons hadn’t even carried their own personal dry bags to the river. She hoped they weren’t going to expect the guides to wait on them hand and foot for the whole trip.

  As she watched Amy and Alice, Mandy wondered whether the two women might be happier sitting in her raft, where they weren’t expected to paddle. And if they spent some time with her, maybe Mandy could drop the hint that they would enjoy the trip more if they actually pitched in and did something.

  When Tina took a break in her story-telling, Mandy asked her, “Do you and your mother want to take some turns in the paddling rafts?”

  “Oh yes, I do,” Tina said, “especially in the whitewater section.”

  When Mandy looked at Elsa, she nodded and said, “Me, too.”

  “I’ll make sure that happens,” Mandy said. “We’ll keep mixing it up so you have plenty of time in a paddle raft—but we won’t put Elsa in the same one as Paul.”

  Elsa cracked a smile. “Smart gal. You wouldn’t want to have a murder on your hands.”

  Mandy gave the expected response of rolling her eyes in jest, but inwardly she shuddered. She had just come off a summer of river rangering where she had experienced much more than her fair share of murders—and the disastrous effects on those she loved. The absolute last thing she wanted to deal with, even more than Rob’s mother’s wedding mania, was another dead body.

  _____

  The flotilla reached the petrified forest site below Thelma and Louise Point around twelve thirty, perfect timing for lunch. While they beached the rafts, Cool told the story of how the point had stood in for the Grand Canyon in the movie. The National Park Service wouldn’t give the movie makers permission to crash a car in the Grand Canyon, but the Utah state park authorities were happy to oblige.

  Mandy and Kendra set up the portable toilet upstream behind a screening stand of tamarisks and willows.

  Then Gonzo gave the toilet speech. “Listen up, folks. Here’s the scoop on pee and poop. Whenever we stop on the river bank, any of you guys who need to ‘water the river’ should head downstream. Women should head upstream and find a private place in the trees to squat. The chemical toilet is for number two only, or any woman who doesn’t want to squat.”

  Gonzo held up a roll of toilet paper in a plastic bag. “This here is the key to the john. If it’s in camp, the toilet is available. If it’s gone, the toilet’s occupied. Everyone got the idea?” He waved the bag in the air.

  Alice gave a snort and marched upstream. Diana gratefully took the key from Gonzo, and Amy followed her mother.

  After everyone had relieved themselves, Rob led the clients through a grove of river cane to the petrified logs with Mandy bringing up the rear. The other staff stayed on the river bank to make lunch and set up a handwashing station.

  Each of the river guides had picked an area of study to bone up on before the trip. Rob took geology, Gonzo had chosen the ancient tribes and their rock art, Kendra studied the wildlife, birds, and tracks, and Mandy had chosen the plant life. She had gone on a short hike with a Moab herbalist and plant expert the day before the rafting trip. She was glad she could put that education to use when Mo Heedles stopped and pointed at a small bush with grayish-green spiky leaves and small yellow flowers.

  “What plant is this?”

  Mandy bent down and fingered the prickly flowers. “That’s snake broom.” She waved the group over to look. “Native Americans would make a poultice out of this plant to put on snake bites. One of the Moab guides told me that when a friend got stung by a wasp on a camping trip, he mixed some of the crushed flowers with a little beer and put it on the bite. His friend said it helped—took away the pain and swelling.”

  “Hell, just drinking the beer would do that!” Les gave a hearty laugh and turned away, obviously disinterested.

  Mo frowned at him, then turned to Mandy. “That was fascinating. Thanks.” She took a photograph of the plant and scribbled a note in a small journal she carried with her.

  When they reached the petrified logs, Rob admonished the group not to touch them or pick up any pieces. Then he explained how they were created by a sudden flood that washed them down to the mouth of the ancient river where they were covered by a mud flow. Over time the mud solidified into sandstone and minerals leached into the wood, dissolving it and leaving mineralized impressions. The geology hounds, Alex, Elsa, and Paul, seemed most interested in the site, taking photos and asking questions. After a few perfunctory photos posing in front of the logs, the others grew restless.

  Mandy suggested it was time for lunch.

  When they returned to the beach, Gonzo explained how to use the handwashing station, a hygiene requirement of the Park Service. All of the food preparers had used it before making lunch, and they were supposed to urge the clients to use it before every meal.

  Les skipped the handwashing and looked around with hands on his hips. “Man, it’s time to get this party started! I need some beer. Where’s the coolers?”

  No one said a word.

  Mandy shot a glance at Rob. While neither they, nor any of the other outfitters, provided alcohol on the trip, they had told the clients there would be room in the coolers for canned or boxed beer and wine if they wanted to bring some. Les had brought a whole case of Budweiser. Hal and Diana’s box of white wine seemed small in comparison.

  Rob walked over to Les and put a hand on his shoulder. “We need our wits about us when we’re on the water. So, we’re going to hold off on the alcohol each day until we reach our final campsite. You can have all you want then, but in the meantime, Kendra’s made some lemonade and iced tea for us.”

  Les made a face, but when he looked around and saw that no one wanted to join him, he shrugged. “I’ll go w
ith the flow if nobody wants to have some fun. Hell, this trip’s been downright boring so far.”

  Mandy bristled at that, but Rob just forced out a laugh and said, “That’s what relaxation is all about. Glad to know we delivered!” He clapped a bewildered-looking Les on the back and went to wash his hands.

  Diana approached Mandy while holding her “Americone.” It was half of a large flour tortilla rolled into a cone and filled with fresh taco salad. The cooks had mixed crushed tortillas in with the salad to soak up the juices.

  “This is genius,” Diana said. “You don’t need plates or napkins or anything. I’ll have to remember it for our next barbecue. And it’s delicious, too.” She took a large bite.

  Mandy smiled. Minimizing trash and the need for utensils was the whole point of the meal. “Thanks. There’s plenty, so if you want more, feel free.”

  After everyone had had their fill, Mandy and the other guides cleaned and packed the kitchen gear and toilet and stowed it all back on Rob’s raft. Then Mandy got everyone’s attention.

  “We want to mix up the raft positions a little,” she said. “Elsa and Tina were in my raft this morning, and they’d like a chance to paddle this afternoon. Anyone else interested in moving?”

  The silence was deafening.

  Finally, Alex raised his hand. “I’ll give up my spot. I don’t need the practice.”

  “You can take my place in Rob’s oar raft,” Cool said to Alex. “I’ll hang out with the ladies this afternoon in Kendra’s raft.”

  Mandy looked around for other volunteers.

  Her cheeks reddening, Amy nudged her husband. “They can have our spots, don’t you think?”

  “Sure,” Les said lazily. “Maybe I can stretch out and take a nap on one of the oar rafts, since there’s not much else to do.”

  “I’ll set up a comfy spot for you on my raft.” Mandy flashed a grateful smile to Amy.