Tears of the River

by Gordon L. Rottman

  Returning, she found Jay was back.

  “I didn’t see anything.”

  “It’s the right trail,” she said.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “I found a washed away footbridge.”

  “So?”

  “Nobody would have gone to that trouble for the less traveled path.”

  She urged everyone to their feet. She pointed down the right path, but Tía just looked at her.

  Now what?

  ¿Cómo sabes en qué dirección?—How do you know which way?

  Karen sighed and closed her eyes. Not her too. Do I have to fight everyone?

  She tried to explain about the bridge, but she wasn’t getting it across. Finally Karen said, “Por favor, confía en mí.” —Please trust me.

  Tía shook her head, but she turned and went on. At least she nodded her head after they made their way through the stepped gulley. She seemed to understand about the bridge now.

  Karen was still anxious about the choice of trails. It nagged at her with every step. What if this was the wrong one? They could waste hours, maybe be forced to spend a night out here after having to head back to the other trail.

  It suddenly popped into her head that she should have laid out a big SOS of boards and limbs beside the flag to be better seen from the air. Too late now. She’d have to think ahead, think of every detail.

  On the flatlands the vegetation was different. It was mostly low scrub brush and small, scattered trees. It was so thick, off-trail it would be impossible to push one’s way through. The trail was quite distinct here; relatively straight and fairly smooth, making walking easier than coming down the ridge.

  It seemed to grow hotter each passing minute as did her doubts about her choice of trails. With the sun higher, the shade dissolved. Karen wished she was wearing shorts. Jeans, though, were ordered by the medical group leader. Nicaraguan boys wore shorts, but seldom women and girls. They’d follow local customs, either skirts or jeans. Jeans were good in the brush, but they were hot right now. At least hers were loose, even baggy.

  Breaks became more frequent. Karen urged them, with no argument, to drink at every halt. She would study Tía’s pain-filled eyes, but each time Tía said, “Estoy bien.” —I am all right.

  Karen lost all track of time and there was no way to estimate the distance they covered in the sameness of the land. All she could do was walk, staring down the pole at Jay’s yellow tee. It would be long hard walk back if this was the wrong trail.

  They’d just taken a break and had only stumbled a short distance when they heard water.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “¿Este es el Rio Machuca?” Karen asked in disappointed skepticism.

  A foot wide stream trickled across the trail.

  “Por supuesto que no, tonta,” —Of course not, said Tía. “It is the stream from the ridge. It runs into the river.” She called Karen a tonta—silly girl.

  “Oh.”

  “They ran the trail this way so they would have water along the way,” Tía said in simplistic Spanish.

  They drank up and refilled the bottles again, adding more weight. Karen mentally groaned. The stream water was probably safer than river water, which they would need to filter and boil.

  Karen cut the top off the orange drink can with her multi-tool’s saw-blade. She scooped water as they bent over the stream. Karen poured water over everyone’s heads and necks. It was the least she could do. Even Jay seemed to appreciate it.

  Tía told them they were close. Karen hoped so. Her fears on the choice of trail had mostly disappeared, but…

  It was so hot when Jay and Karen lifted the pole onto their aching shoulders she felt as if her brains were baking. Every stitch of their clothes was sweat-drenched.

  Tía was making it, but Karen could tell every step shot excruciating pain through her arms. Lomara was a little slower getting to her feet.

  It was late in the day, their progress having been exceedingly slow. They were taking breaks about every twenty minutes. The breaks were getting longer.

  The pole, even with the towel padding, painfully gnawed into her shoulder. Karen’s shoulders, upper back and neck muscles burned with soreness. She tried switching places with Jay in hopes of a little relief for them both, but it made no difference which end they carried.

  They pressed on. Karen was soon aware of more bird noises and more were flying over. They were getting close as they stepped over downed limbs and fallen trees.

  She noticed there were more trees and they were taller. The fertile smell of green enveloped them. The underbrush was denser too. Vines and low limbs overhung the trail, sometimes tangling, even seeming to grab at the bags they carried. They were more often in the shade now. While blocking the scorching sun, there was even less air and it felt hotter. The vegetation trapped the heat and clouds of gnats swarmed annoyingly around their faces. It was stifling.

  The ground gradually sloped downward. It smelled dank in the thick brush and the ground was muddy with big puddles.

  Up ahead, Tía turned and said something to Lomara. She made a laughing sound, darted around the woman, and disappeared. The foliage brightened and rounding a gradual curve, they were on a narrow open bank on the bend of a river. A much used fire pit was on the edge of the clearing.

  The river was only thirty feet across, a fast moving band of brown water. Small limbs, leaves, and clusters of vegetation drifted with it. Brush and trees overhung both banks, which, being lower on the far side, was flooded deep into the trees.

  Karen and Jay grounded their burden and all four of them stood looking into the water. As Lomara knelt to splash her hands, Tía eased down beneath a small tree’s shade.

  Karen had envisioned them all jumping in and splashing water on one another as they shrieked with joy. It didn’t look all that inviting, being about the color of gritty chocolate milk and almost as thick. It was too deep and too fast moving to play in.

  Everything smelled musty. It obviously wasn’t drinkable. She’d have to devise a water filter.

  Tía was to the point where she could barely walk.

  Karen passed water bottles around. That was the extent of their celebration.

  Sitting down beside Tía, Karen checked her out. There was no doubt she was in a great deal of pain, and she looked sad, severely down.

  Karen asked her if she wanted another painkiller.

  “No gracias.”

  “How far to the boats, Tía?” Karen asked in Spanish.

  Tía looked at her with sad pain-filled eyes. “They were supposed to be here. Two boats.”

  Tied around a tree was a broken mooring rope. The bottom of Karen’s stomach fell. She couldn’t say anything.

  Tía turned back to peering at the racing water.

  Karen closed her eyes. Okay, she said to herself. Don’t freak out. Count to ten. She didn’t get that far in anticipation of what she’d find in herself. She stood and looked around.

  Tía didn’t look at her, but wore an embarrassed expression, as if it was her fault. Keep the harmony.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Jay.

  Karen ignored him and walked back up the trail a ways, where the ground rose a bit. Throughout the area, clinging in the vegetation were dead leaves and twigs. It had flooded during the storm and the boats had drifted off.

  This is bad. They’d gone to all this effort to get here in hopes of finding a boat.

  “Now what?” They couldn’t stay here. No one would look for them here. If they turned back, then what? Hope someone would come for them after all? Fat chance.

  She knew their best chance to get out of there was the river, by boat. They still had the river; they only needed a boat…or a raft. It was getting more like Huckleberry Finn.

  They were in a jungle with limitless wood. They had a machete, knives, and rope.

  It might take two days to build; maybe less if they found a stand of large diameter bamboo. Bamboo was perfect. Being full of air cells it flo
ated like an air mattress and didn’t absorb water.

  She returned to find Tía silently crying. Lomara was curled up next to her, her arms around the woman.

  Karen went to her knees before Tía and gave her a hug and told her in Spanish. “It is okay, Tía. Do not cry. We are going to build a raft. We can do it.”

  The woman looked into her eyes and spoke. It took a moment for Karen to work out what she said. “You cannot do all this. How can an American girl do any of this?”

  Karen rocked back on her heels. There it was. She was being told she’d fail, that she wasn’t a leader, she’s only a girl, an American girl at that, who obviously didn’t know anything. We’ll see, she thought. Karen realized she’d made no effort to explain to Tía about her experience, the Venturing Scouts, Outward Bound, all the backpacking and canoe trips, the survival training. She didn’t have the vocabulary to explain, nor would Tía understand, she thought. Tía probably had no idea American kids, some anyway, did that sort of thing…for fun.

  “No, Tía, we can do this.”

  “I cannot help you. You have to do everything. It is too much for you, even if you knew what to do.”

  Karen stood. “Vamos a ver.”—We will see. The grim resolve in her voice surprised her.

  “What’s going on?” asked Jay.

  “Nothing much. We just need to build a raft.”

  “Build a raft! I thought there was supposed to be a boat.”

  “Me too. Life’s a disappointment sometimes.”

  “How are we going to build raft?”

  “We’ll order a Lego raft kit from Amazon.”

  “Very funny.”

  “We’ll build it with our own hands. We have everything we need.” Except time, she thought.

  “I suppose you know how, Supergirl.”

  “We’ll manage.”

  “You never built a boat.” Jay wasn’t asking a question.

  “A raft. I saw a picture of one once.”

  “Great.”

  She decided to immediately search for bamboo and fallen trees.

  The muddy trail continued on from the little clearing following the low riverbank. Here it was a scanty path with overhanging bushes and reeds. She pushed down it.

  It looked promising. She soon came across a fallen twenty-foot tree, maybe six inches in diameter. She’d have to cut off the crown limbs and chop it into two pieces. Moving the logs would be a chore.

  Moving on she found a couple of large broken limbs that could be trimmed and used as cross braces. It was getting easier.

  Pushing through some thick, head-high weeds she stopped and said out loud, “Well, that’s more like it!”

  Canted on its side was the most wonderful of things, a boat perched atop the dense brush. Karen fought to catch her breath. The blue rowboat was partly full of water. Excitement swelled inside as she pushed through the brush. The twelve-foot boat appeared undamaged. A broken bow rope had tangled around a bush preventing it from drifting farther. Three oars were lashed to the seats.

  It just doesn’t get any better than this! Karen had this desire to jump up and down and shout, but she was plain worn out. That didn’t keep her from rushing back to the others with the grand news.

  Tía glowed; it was the first real smile Karen had ever seen on her face. A load had been lifted from her shoulders. Lomara was happy because the grownups were.

  “You lucked out,” said Jay. “I’d like to have seen you build a boat.”

  “A raft, and I could have.” She almost wished she’d had to, just to put him down.

  With machete in hand, Karen led them to the boat. They started rocking the boat to tip it farther on its side and spill out the water. Before doing that, they’d splashed the collected rainwater on themselves and washed up. Karen tossed handfuls onto a laughing Tía and Lomara. It was a little funky and not fit for drinking, but it sure felt good.

  While Jay and Lomara bailed out the remaining water with their hands, Karen began hacking a path of sorts to the river. It was only fifty, sixty feet. She lopped off the bush tops. They’d drag the boat across top of the thick bushes with little resistance.

  They might be on the river yet today. Karen reminded herself to keep it real and not raise her expectations. Delays would pop up and they were dead tired. There was a lot to do.

  Tía suddenly said, “¿Me puedes acompañar al baño?”—Can you take me to the bathroom?

  Like that, thought Karen.

  She got a roll of TP from Lomara’s pack and she and Tía went off. Karen was resigned to the fact this was a routine duty. She thought about all the nurses and caregivers in hospitals, nursing homes and hospices who did this every day. She knew some of those folks and understood how compassionate they were, the sacrifices they made. She’d have to get used to it. Tía was totally dependent on her. They all were, like it or not.

  It hit Karen then, she was going to have to do just about everything; make every decision. She closed her eyes for a moment. She was so tired. There was so much she’d have to do, all while putting up with Tía’s doubts of her abilities and Jay’s pigheadedness. Pictures ran through her mind like frames of a fast-forwarded DVD. So much to do and so little time.

  There was something coiling in her mind, a strong perseverance she’d never before felt.

  Okay, so be it. It was time to start acting like a leader.

  This isn’t a survival training exercise.

  This isn’t a role-playing game.

  It certainly isn’t reality TV.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Karen fought her way through the undergrowth back to the boat. Jay followed. What would be the best way to move it? It was four feet off the ground atop the thick brush and pointed in the wrong direction.

  “Where’s the motor?” he asked.

  You’ve got to be kidding, she thought. “Look at me. You’re looking at one of them. Put your hand on your head. That’s the other one.”

  “I’ve never rowed a boat.”

  “I’ll teach you. I’ve got a Rowing Merit Badge. Nothing to it.”

  Jay didn’t look inspired.

  She and Jay worked their way to the bow and untangled the rope from the bush. Tugging on the rope, the boat moved, but there was a lot of resistance and the brush was in their way. The rope cut into their hands and it was too short to gain a good angle of pull.

  They needed leverage. She hurried to their gear and brought back the carrying pole and towing strap.

  Jamming the pole into the ground at an angle beneath the boat’s bow, she pushed the pole’s upper end against the boat. It moved easily as Jay tugged on the rope. He was suddenly cooperative.

  “Way to go team!” Hey! She’d learned something useful in physics after all.

  As she continued to lever the boat around, the sun easing down toward the trees glared into her eyes.

  With shocking clarity she realized the sun was almost too low to use the magnifying glass to start a fire. There was daylight left, but if they were going to have a fire tonight she had to make it now, before the sun dropped below the trees.

  Lomara scrambled to find firewood and kindling at Tía’s bidding. Jay too. Karen picked up enough dead leaves and twig kindling to get it started. Taking some shredded paper, she flipped open the magnifying glass, but it was a long time before she had it smoldering due to the humidity. Another ten, fifteen minutes and the sun’s demise would have prevented the use of the magnifying glass, blocked by even these low trees. There was still daylight to work by. She’d have to keep an eye on that each day.

  The kids had to go back to the higher ground to find dry wood. The larger pieces around here were still damp. Kids? She laughed in her mind. She’d called them kids even though Jay was older than her.

  The same consideration applied to mornings too. The sun would have to be well up over the trees to start a fire, unless she banked smoldering coals the night before. That way they could nurse a fire from them in the early morning and get started on the rive
r early. Time was crucial.

  She thought of all the mornings she had crawled out of her sleeping bag to watch the glory of dawn. She’d uncover the glowing coals and toss on twigs and larger sticks to get the fire going. Next went on a cup of water into which she’d stir in a packet of cafe mocha.

  It wasn’t going to be like that here.

  Karen realized they could have gotten by without a fire tonight, but they needed charcoal. She realized it had been silly to think they could be on the river today.

  “We need a filter for this silty water,” she told Jay. A scout advisor had told her to try get guys who weren’t participating involved in a project.

  “I guess you know how to make that too.”

  “Yes I do. We’ll burn down the charcoal tonight and make the filter in the morning before talking off. You can help.”

  “What now?”

  “There’s three nasty things in water. Well, there are a lot of things, but there are three categories of nastiness needing to be removed to make water safe to drink.”

  “Sounds like a science class,” he grumbled.

  “Exactly, pay attention, you might learn something.”

  “Great.”

  “The most dangerous nasty is bacteria. It causes diarrhea, and animal feces or insect egg contamination causing rashes, vomiting, and other misery. That can all be killed by boiling or chemical purification. Boiling is slow and takes a lot of time for four people’s needs plus a lot of wood. We can’t boil much water in that shallow hubcap.

  “Another bad thing is chemicals, mostly manmade crap that gets into water, like oil, pesticides, fertilizer, and industrial pollutants. It’s taken out by filtering. Out here in the wilds, there wouldn’t be any of that stuff.

  “Then there’s silt, the fine sand and dirt turning water mud-colored. There’s bits of vegetation, algae, scum, and so on in it. It’s removed by filtering too.”