by Joyce Magnin
“Well, lookee there,” Harriet said to the cowgirl, “all these folks are learning how to ride the bus. Must be hard when you can’t see. Something the rest of us take for granted, I suppose.”
Less than an hour later the shuttle stopped in Cañon City, not far from the Royal Gorge Park. It stopped at a Walmart on Route 50, which made Harriet smile. She enjoyed seeing the RVs in the parking lot because she had heard that sometimes people camp out at the Walmarts.
The woman instructor asked Harriet and the cowgirl if they wouldn’t mind debusing ahead of her group.
“No problem,” Cowgirl said.
“Anything I can do to help?” Harriet asked.
“No,” the woman said rather sternly, “they can do it all by themselves.”
Of course, Harriet had not intended any insult. She genuinely wanted to help if she could. Having never been blind, she didn’t quite understand how it worked.
Just to see, Harriet closed her eyes as she made her way to the front of the bus. She tripped over two sets of feet sticking in the aisle and crashed into the driver. Harriet looked back in time to catch a nasty look from the instructors. “I … I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Harriet got off as fast as she could and walked down the street as quickly as her achy legs would carry her. To her dismay, Harriet discovered that Cañon City was one of those towns that did not have a local bus service. She found this out from the clerk in Walmart. Harriet had gone in to escape the blind group she had inadvertently insulted and decided to purchase new socks. Unfortunately, as she stood in line she noticed the same group making their way around the store, learning to make purchases with the aid of their instructors. Harriet hid in shame.
The only way she was going to make it to the park was in a taxicab. She didn’t really want to, but she had no choice. That was before she had a scathingly brilliant idea. She had stopped in the Walmart snack area when she heard a family discussing their plans to visit the Royal Gorge Bridge and Park. She thought long and hard about whether she should try to horn in on their vacation, but she would rather hitchhike the nine miles than take an uncomfortable taxi ride.
So she brazened herself up enough to ask if she could ride along with them. At first they were confused, then amused, then they finally agreed. She followed the family — a mom, a dad, a son, and a daughter — back to the parking lot. When they stopped next to a large Winnebago, Harriet felt a smile about as wide as the gorge stretch across her face.
“You mean I get to ride inside that?”
The father nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You’ll be fine in the back with Sissy and Trevor.”
She assumed Sissy and Trevor were the children and not the two Chihuahuas she saw yapping when Howard, the father, opened the door. “Come on, kids. Let’s go see the gorge.” He tried to sound upbeat, but Harriet had the distinct impression the children could not have cared less about this family vacation.
Harriet, on the other hand, loved the RV and settled into a fairly comfortable seat.
“My goodness,” she said to the sullen teenager, Sissy, who obviously did not like Harriet being in her space and preferred to sulk in the corner with earbuds stuffed into her ear canals. “It’s like a little house … a little rolling house.”
Sissy rolled her eyes. Harriet smiled. “Don’t fret, deary, puberty doesn’t last forever. You’ll become nice again.”
Sissy’s younger brother, Trevor, laughed. Harriet shifted in the vinyl seat, which was supposed to look like leather, facing Trevor. He just kind of glared at her like she was a sideshow amusement. This made Harriet feel terribly awkward and for some reason aware of her nose, which Trevor stared at like he was waiting for it to explode or something. Harriet resisted the urge to scratch it until Trevor turned away when Howard hit a bump in the road. Fortunately the drive was short, and Howard pulled the huge rig into the park. They had designated spots for campers.
Harriet thanked them kindly, handed Howard twenty dollars for gas, then went on her merry way in search of the tram. She was trying hard not to actually look at the view, considering it was a thousand feet straight down into the Arkansas River. She went to the visitor’s center, purchased her ticket, and looked around the souvenir shop. She was thrilled to find salt and pepper shakers shaped like the tram car.
She ventured outdoors, where the air was crisp and warmish but certainly not hot. The sky was blue. Light, wispy clouds floated past like lacy parasols. What disturbed her was that there were actually clouds below her and next to her in the gorge, between the two rims. She tried not to think about it and made her way to the tram loading dock. The dock was attached to a little brown shack carved into the rocks.
“Yep. That looks safe. If only Prudence were here. She’d have so much to say.”
She fell in line, being the ninth person to board the tram. Everyone seemed excited except one lady, about her age, who kept saying, “Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord, protect us. Don’t let the cable snap.”
Harriet was happy the woman was surrounded by her family. She heard her son say, “But, Mom, it’s what you wanted for your sixtieth birthday, to travel across the gorge on the tram. And here we are.”
Harriet willed her knees not to shake, even though she thought about grabbing the nervous woman by the hand and running away with her. Harriet had never been fond of heights, but this? This was ridiculous! Crossing the mountains by bus had been one thing, but crossing a gorge locked inside a flaming red tram car was something entirely different. She could now see the bottom of the gorge between the clouds. “It’s gorge-eous,” she said aloud, hoping to get a reaction from someone. But folks seemed just too intent on staying alive as they crossed.
The line began to move and just as she was about to step aboard the red dragon, Harriet’s tote bag slipped from her shoulder and knocked another, rather short passenger in the head, who turned suddenly and inadvertently slapped the birthday lady’s butt, which made her jump, nearly starting a domino chain of people.
“I’m sorry,” Harriet said, “I tripped on … something and that made my pack —”
“It’s okay,” hollered someone, “just keep moving.”
Harriet moved to the front of the tram car and sucked in a deep breath. It was small and enclosed with windows all around. She stood close to the tram operator, an older man who looked like he might have been dealing with some indigestion. Harriet certainly knew she was. Nervous situations always made her gassy. She hoped she wouldn’t have to expel any gas in the close quarters. But then, someone else beat her to it. She didn’t feel so alone.
Why did I do this? Harriet thought as she looked out the window. The view was spectacular, but it made her feel dizzy. And what good was a spectacular view if you were too dizzy to enjoy it?
“I’m dizzy,” she said.
The operator looked at her. “Want to get off? Speak now because once she goes I can’t bring her back. You won’t be the first.”
“Oh, good Lord …,” Harriet heard the birthday woman say.
“No, no, I told Prudence I’m doing it, and I am going to do it. Cast off, Gilligan.”
The operator didn’t find that amusing. He spoke into a microphone. “Closed and ready.”
The car lurched and then bobbled, and then — weeeeee — they were out over the gorge, suspended by two cables that looked like threads to Harriet. She closed her eyes. Opened her eyes. Closed them again. Until, she started to feel okay, like she had gotten her tram legs. The ride was smooth, even though she felt like she was walking a tightrope. She was in the sky, eye level with clouds. She could see the river so far below it looked like it had been drawn with crayon. This is what it must be like to be a bird, an eagle. She thought about the Scripture that reminded her that she could soar like an eagle, and now here she was doing exactly that. Well, not soaring maybe; the tram didn’t move at breakneck speed.
About halfway across, the family riding the train burst into a chorus of “Happy Birthday.” Harriet joined in and remarked how it ma
de the passage that much easier. The birthday girl burst into tears. “Oh, Lord, oh, Lord.”
The tram docked on the other side. The doors opened, and Harriet had never seen a group of people move faster to get out of anything in her life. She was the last one off. The operator stayed to reload.
“Would you do me a favor?” she asked the operator before she got off. “Take my picture in this tram contraption so I can show it to Prudence and prove I really rode it.”
Chapter 28
AFTER THE RIDE ACROSS ROYAL GORGE, HARRIET NEARLY lost her resolve to make it all the way to Grass Valley, California, by taking public transportation. She considered hitching rides with motorcycle-driving preachers and a family in an RV as public transportation, considering that people are the public.
But now, atop this wonderful mountain called Point Sublime, staring down at what amounted to an abyss, Harriet started to cry. There was no bus to take her through this part of Colorado. It was rural and open and fit for a cattle drive and not much else. The towns were few and far between.
Harriet looked at her phone and, for the first time, thought her only recourse was to call Henry and scream, ”Uncle.“ And then wait until he came and rescued her. She brushed her fingers over the phone. “What to do. What to do.” Her spirits sank as she looked out over the gorge. It was such a magnificent place, but for all its splendor, it lacked bus service.
She checked Amelia once again, just to double-check her bearings. Yep, her next large city destination needed to be Colorado Springs, but how?
“Oh dear. I’ll figure it out. I got up this dang fool hill. I can get down.”
She thanked God for getting her this far — and safely. She praised him for such a beautiful place and then checked on the family she rode up the mountain with. Their Winnebago was gone, nothing but a grease spot where it had been parked. She sighed and wandered over to a concession stand and bought two funnel cakes and a Coke. She sat at a picnic table and ate her snack and ruminated on her predicament. From where she sat she had an incredible view of the bridge. She could not even begin to imagine how it was ever constructed between the two rims, crafted as it was into rock and with nothing supporting it underneath. It seemed an engineering impossibility. It was now nearly four o’clock and a warmish wind was whipping around, but she kind of enjoyed it. It made her think of Max and how he loved to fly kites with Henry. She pulled out her notebook and wrote:
Hi, honey, I think I am in one of the most beautiful places on earth. It’s called the Royal Gorge Park. And it is just that — royal. I am sitting on the west side now. You won’t believe this but I rode the tram, an aerial tram clear across it, over two thousand feet. Yep, one of those little cars suspended from cables like they show in the movies that always snap just as the murderer is about to kill his victim. There was no killer on board, just a birthday girl. The view was spectacular. A river runs down below, a thousand feet down from where I am sitting right this minute. But I imagine you might be able to see from way up in heaven. It made me think about what it means to take a leap of faith. It kind of felt like that when the car left the dock. Suddenly suspended by cables, I had no choice but to trust the driver and those cables. Faith is like that, isn’t it, Max? Trusting in that which we cannot see. I think I’m beginning to get that.
Harriet looked around for a second.
But here’s the trouble. I can’t figure out how to get back down. No buses. There’s a train but it only runs at the bottom of the gorge.
Harriet looked out over the rim as two clouds floated past. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she began to cry. But as she did she kind of felt a presence, like someone was staring at her. Oh dear, it was so embarrassing to be caught crying.
“Excuse please,” came a deep but definitely female voice. “You okay?”
Harriet turned. The woman was tall and husky with short curly blond hair. She wore blue sunglasses and a felt hat with a feather sticking out of it with the words Don’t Jump embroidered into the rim and a bright yellow Windbreaker.
Wiping her eyes, Harriet said, “I seem to be stuck. I hitchhiked up here, and now I have no way down, unless I can hitch another ride. My name’s Harriet, by the way … Harriet Beamer.”
“My name is Olga, Olga Stanislavsky. Don’t worry. You ride with us.”
Olga waved to a group of women standing about fifty yards away — all wearing the same bright yellow Windbreakers and felt hats.
“That be my church group over there. We take trip out here sometime. It’s most beautiful place on earth, no? Gretchen’s made first trip ‘cross on the tram. She throw up after, but they say that happens a lot.”
“Phew,” Harriet said, “I didn’t throw up, but I can see why she would.”
The rest of the church group ambled over and hovered near Harriet like a band of guardian angels. And if the truth be known, Harriet couldn’t imagine being happier seeing angels than she was seeing these ladies.
“Devojke,” Olga said, looking at her friends, “this is Harriet, and she needs a ride. We give Harriet ride, no?”
“Of course, yes.” They all spoke together.
Olga slapped Harriet on the back. “There. You see, we take you. No problem.”
Harriet felt her face warm. “But … where are you heading?”
“We are from Gunnison, about an hour away,” Gretchen said. “but ve take you vere you need.”
“Would it be much of a bother to take me back to Pueblo? I can get a train or a bus from there.”
“No problem,” said another voice in the small crowd.
Harriet breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“Vee go then,” Olga said. “On da bus.”
Harriet tucked her notebook into her tote and followed the women to the small blue bus with the words SAINT HERMAN OF ALASKA ORTHODOX CHURCH on the side. It looked quite old and rickety.
“Olga is driver,” Olga said, tapping her own chest.
Harriet swallowed. “Sounds like fun.” Or so she thought.
The bus was rickety and seemed to not have a single working spring left in it. Harriet felt every bump and pothole along the road. And Olga seemed to enjoy taking the twists and curves with abandon.
“Here vee gooo,” she would holler just before a curve. And all the women would end up leaning to the left and then to the right.
“It’s like being on a roller coaster,” Harriet said to Gretchen.
Gretchen laughed. “Yep. But she’ll get us home. Does every time.”
BUMP!
“What was that?” Harriet asked.
“Who knows,” Gretchen said.
Needless to say, Harriet was quite pleased when Olga and everyone else on the bus made it safely back to Pueblo, back to the Walmart from whence she started the day’s adventure.
Harriet stood with her suitcase at the front of the bus. She thought for a moment how wonderful it was to have church people, and then she said her good-byes to her new friends.
By now it was nearly dinner time, close to 5:00, and Harriet was bushed, hungry, and even though she knew where she was, geographically speaking, she felt a little lost as she surveyed the town. She found a bench, sat down, and tucked her tote between her feet and parked her suitcase next to her and, for a moment, thought she must look like a runaway or a homeless woman. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she checked in with her GPS. According to Amelia her best bet was to head for Denver where she could probably catch an Amtrak for a good distance across Colorado.
Unfortunately, according to the Amtrak website, she would need to wait until the next day to catch the Thruway Motorcoach to Denver. No trains ran from Pueblo to Denver. But she discovered she could walk from the Walmart to the Comfort Inn, which was just dandy to Harriet after the harrowing bus ride down the mountain.
That evening, after supper, Henry and Prudence settled down to watch a little TV. “Well,” Henry said, “no salt-and-pepper-shaker delivery today.”
Pru
dence tucked her feet under her bottom and snuggled into the sofa next to Henry and Sandra Day the cat. “Really? I bet she chickened out.”
“You know,” Henry said, “I did a little research earlier, looking at some maps online, and I cannot imagine how on earth she’s going to get up or down from the gorge without a car. And she certainly can’t rent a car up there. And from what I can tell, there is no public transit — maybe a taxi but I’m not even sure that would work.”
“If she said she was going to do it, she did it. I keep telling you, my mother is stubborn like a mule.”
Prudence stroked Sandra Day’s back. “What’s next? Skydiving?”
Henry shrugged. “Who knows, but at least we know she’s in Colorado. Almost here.”
“I suppose. I just hope she arrives in one piece.” Prudence yawned. “I’m sleepy.”
Henry flipped through the channels until he landed on a show about how pencils are made. Prudence rested her head on his shoulder. “This is good,” she said.
“Have you been thinking …,” Henry said, “about a baby?”
Prudence didn’t respond right away. “Off and on. I think I’m just scared. I can’t go through that again.”
“I don’t want to go through it again either, but the doctor said —”
“I know what the doctor said.” Prudence lifted her head. “Let’s just get your mother here in one piece before we decide.”
“Okay, we can do that.”
Humphrey ambled into the living room. Sandra Day startled, meowed loudly, and took off lickety-split up the stairs.
“That dog,” Prudence said.
Henry stroked Prudence’s hair. “You know what? Part of me is glad she might have to call for help, but another part of me wants to see her make it.”
Chapter 29
AFTER A CONTINENTAL BREAKFAST AT THE COMFORT INN, Harriet boarded the Amtrak Thruway bus toward Denver, Colorado.
She sat on the seat next to a man wearing cowboy garb and who smelled a lot like horses. Harriet rubbed her nose and then quietly moved to another seat. She looked at her phone. Henry had been calling her repeatedly for almost one full day.
