Into the Canyon

by Michael Neale

  Gabriel seemed to have a view of life that flew in the face of everything I’d been about. I’d spent my life climbing the proverbial ladder. It almost seemed as if everything up to this moment had been a blur, another rung to climb and another hill to conquer, another investment to discover. I’d reached all my goals—money—and lots of it, cars, a second home—I was a pacesetter in the financial district. So here I was, hanging out with a mountain man, searching for God knows what in the wilderness. The irony wasn’t lost on me. By all normal measures, from the outside, I was a successful investment banker. Deep in my gut, though, I felt like a street beggar.

  We made the short hike along The River back up to the lodge. The air chilled quickly in the canyon after the sun ducked behind the mountains.

  I helped Gabriel get the charcoals going on the large, brick grill pit out on the edge of the deck. I looked around and imagined some of the scenes Gabriel had told me about tonight and when we were in the airport together. I imagined Jacob Fielding giving his famous opening season speech as the torches flickered. I pictured all the young apprentice guides carousing and enjoying the food. I thought about the old man, Ezra, who made cinnamon rolls and dispensed his otherworldly wisdom. I felt like I was on the set of a thirty-year-old movie. The characters and dialogue were vivid in my imagination

  Gabriel lit a few of the oil torches to shed some light. We sat down at one of the weathered picnic tables on the deck. He slapped down two ice-cold soda bottles with one hand. The spread was enormous for just two people.

  “Gabriel, this looks incredible. You always eat like this?” I looked down at the feast of rolls, grilled potatoes, three bigger-than-your-face rib eyes, salad, and sliced tomatoes. The aroma from the juicy, charred steaks was straight out of heaven.

  “I try to,” he said as he grinned. He reached over and twisted off the soda bottle caps like they were toys. He handed me one as he held his up for a toast. He looked up to the sky and surprised me with what he said.

  “Maker, we are thankful for more than enough. We are thankful for Your River. We are thankful for mercy. We are thankful for friends. May we give as You have given, love as You have loved.”

  He looked back at me and held up his bottle.

  “To great friends, great food, and great white water.”

  “Hear, hear.” As our bottles clanked together, I felt mysteriously connected to the moment and to this guide. I’m not sure why, but it felt familiar and right. I’d only known him for a few short hours in two separate conversations nearly a year apart, but I felt like I’d known him for years.

  “Now this is a steak knife!” I said through a laugh as I held up the twelve-inch serrated blade.

  Gabriel smiled as he cut into the sizzling meat. “So, tell me about your family.”

  “I have three kids . . . two crazy boys and a girl in between.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Jake is my oldest. He’s sixteen. Lily is thirteen. She’s my princess. Dylan is the little firecracker. He’s six.”

  When I said my kids’ names, I felt great happiness at the thought of their faces, but the stronger feeling in that moment was sadness . . . deep sadness. I’d failed them. I couldn’t be with them and it was killing me.

  “You miss them.” Gabriel took another bite and squinted as he focused on me. The food looked and smelled amazing, but now my appetite was dwindling, and I idly pushed salad around on my plate.

  “More than I can say, really. Jake is driving now . . . and life is all about girls and sports. Lily has these deep dimples when she smiles . . . melts me every time. And Dylan is always looking for something to jump off of. These gray hairs all have that one’s name on them.”

  Gabriel laughed.

  “I’ve got to figure something out.” I felt and heard the desperation in my voice. “Sarah was a senior in college when we met. I had already been working in New York for a couple of years. One weekend I dropped in to surprise my sister at her college campus, and Sarah was her roommate that semester. She was stunning. She still is. She’s actually smarter than she is pretty, which is dangerous. She can hold her own in any debate too. Once I met her, it was like I didn’t have a choice. Like I was supposed to marry her from the beginning of time.”

  Gabriel nodded thoughtfully. “How do you think it happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How did you drift apart?”

  “I don’t know where it started, really. I was hoping you could tell me,” I said, suddenly nervous. “I think it’s the natural way . . . you know, to drift away from each other.”

  “You think it’s supposed to be that way?”

  “I didn’t say that. I just said it seems to be the natural way of things . . . to come apart . . . to get weaker . . . We lose sight of things. It takes extraordinary effort to keep things right . . . to keep people together. Left alone, we wander. I don’t think she appreciated all that I was doing for her and the kids. I worked my butt off, fourteen-hour days for years to get us where we were.”

  “And where was that?” He smiled graciously.

  I didn’t have an answer. Then it hit me.

  “How could I spend my life chasing after everything that doesn’t matter? I hate losing. It’s like someone moved the goal-post or something! I don’t know what to strive for anymore.”

  I was hoping he would give me a glimmer of hope. As we took the last few bites of the incredible meal, Gabriel got up to take the dishes inside. “I have an idea,” he said as he rubbed his hands together, chewing the last of his dinner roll.

  “What’s that?”

  He held up his hand as he swallowed.

  “I’ll be right back.” He had that crazed look in his eye I remembered from the airport.

  He came out of the kitchen and walked past me with a purpose.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Go where? It’s got to be closing in on ten o’clock.”

  He looked back over his shoulder at me.

  “You got somewhere to be? Just come with me. You’ll see.”

  I followed him across the gravel drive. He took me down to an old wooden barn-like structure. He unlatched the large door and swung it open. It smelled of rubber, river water, and a touch of mildew. He pointed over to the wall.

  “Flick that light on, will ya?”

  I turned the light on to see a row of hundreds of wetsuits hanging high on a rack like suits of armor, a large wooden crate of helmets, stacks of wetsuit booties, and rows of life vests all sorted by size. Gabriel picked one off of the “large” rack and tossed it to me.

  “That should fit.”

  “What do I need this for?”

  “Always wear a vest on the white water, my friend.”

  “What? We don’t need to go out on the water.”

  He walked right over to me. His presence was powerful.

  “Really? I beg to differ. That’s why you came, isn’t it? To get in The River?”

  I stumbled over words. “Well, I just wanted to . . . you know . . . get a change of pace.”

  He smiled and lowered his voice a bit. “The River is the change of pace. I’m going . . . and you’re going with me.”

  He smiled again as he pushed a paddle into my chest.

  I didn’t have a choice. I fancied myself a pretty adventurous guy. After all, I was an avid runner. Being on The River at night took it to another level.

  “I’m not really dressed for this.”

  “The River doesn’t care how you look,” he retorted quickly. “Put on the wetsuit, grab a brain bucket, and meet me at the Jeep,” he commanded as he walked out of the barn carrying his gear.

  I stood there, half angry, but half excited. I was going on The River at night with a notorious adventure monger.

  I hollered after him, “Am I supposed to wear this wetsuit over my jeans?”

  “I wouldn’t do that. You want to keep the moisture away from your body.”

  “Uh . . . okay.” I’d have
to strip down to my boxers and T-shirt. What in the world am I doing?

  After I gathered the gear, I trudged back out to the parking area. I stopped by my brand-new black BMW 740i sedan to drop my leather dress shoes in the trunk and grab my sneakers. It seemed odd to me. This dream car didn’t seem to mean much out in the wilderness.

  I helped Gabriel hook up the trailer to his Jeep. It carried the raft and had a large white cooler strapped to the back. After a few minutes’ ride through the canyon switching back and forth, we pulled into a small clearing, and Gabriel backed the trailer down to the water’s edge.

  The next thing I knew, I was in a raft on a mighty river with Gabriel Clarke, floating into a moonlit canyon in Colorado. You could say I was officially out of my comfort zone. What a far cry from my office at 590 Madison Avenue in Manhattan. Once I got over the shock of what I was doing, I came awake to the experience.

  A starlight canopy twinkled above. All I could hear were the sounds of the water. In the distance you could hear the dull roar of rapids. Up close, just the occasional bubbling of the gentle flow over the riverbed rocks. The moonlight beamed, but the occasional cloud would block its light, rendering the canyon pitch-black for a few seconds. I felt the water tap the bottom of my feet as we coasted along, Gabriel in back, and me in front on the starboard side.

  Smack! Smack! Smack!

  “You hear that?” Gabriel asked as we floated along.

  “Yeah, what was that?”

  “Beaver tails. They’re warning everyone of the city dweller.”

  I laughed.

  Then a coyote howled high in the hills. It was a chilling sound.

  “Go ahead and get secure. Slide your foot under the tube there, and when I say ‘forward hard’ or ‘backward hard,’ you dig into the water. That will steady you in the boat. This next rapid will be fun in the dark.”

  I could feel my adrenaline pulse as I braced for my first ever white-water experience. The night made the water seem infinitely strong and mysterious. I could barely see the water, but I could hear the roar get louder. I paddled furiously, not knowing if I was helping or doing the right thing. The raft picked up speed. It felt like a cosmic invisible rope was pulling us faster and faster toward something. Gabriel guided us from the back, steering us between boulders and over the waves.

  “Forward hard!” he yelled several times. My heart pounded as I connected with the water. It splashed my face. It awakened my senses. I felt like a child again, scared and thrilled at the wonder of the moment. We cascaded over a small drop, and I felt the boat turn quickly. We were now floating backward.

  “Forward hard! Hard!” Gabriel yelled. I thought we were in trouble. The raft bucked up and down.

  Gabriel and I dug in as we pulled the raft upstream against the rapid. Then suddenly we felt the struggle release and we just floated, pointing upstream, the boiling waters cascading all around us. The moonlight beamed onto the white water we now faced.

  “We’re surfin’ now! Ha ha!” Gabriel shouted.

  It was a magical experience. It was as though the waters allowed this peaceful respite in the middle of the raging water. We stayed there for a minute or so, and Gabriel backed us out into the flow, and we headed downstream once again.

  “Have you ever been over a waterfall?” he asked as we paddled gently.

  “What?”

  I’m sure he sensed my fear.

  “I’m just kidding. Did you enjoy that little run?”

  “Yeah, it was amazing. Little?”

  “Yeah, that was only a level two. I’ll take you on a four plus tomorrow.”

  I didn’t want to let on that I was really nervous at such a prospect.

  “Okay. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to stay.”

  “One of the things I love about these waters is that just when you think you can’t handle any more big white water, she blesses you with a section like this. Look around.”

  We pulled up our paddles. The water here was pure peace. The River opened wide as if to invite us into its tranquility. The mirrored surface reflected the moon’s brilliance, and the roar of the white water melted into deafening stillness. I leaned over the side of the raft and I could see my reflection in the smooth and dimly lit surface. The dark outline of the mountaintops that surrounded us looked like someone drew them in charcoal on the canvas of the sky. A hawk screeched and the cry reverberated. I was in another world. It was like one part of me started to die and one part of me started to awaken from the dead. It was just nature and us . . . no deadlines, no big business deals, and no media. I was in the presence of power and beauty, and I felt very small.

  “Stunning,” I commented to Gabriel as I looked up to the sky.

  “It’s in the dark that I hear the waters differently. When I can’t see, when I don’t know, when it’s hard, that’s when I listen. Life becomes clearer when I have to trust . . . trust that it’s going to be good . . . in the end, it will all be good. When I come to The River, I’m actually the truest version of myself. I think that’s because I realize it’s not about me.”

  Gabriel’s words burrowed deep into my soul. Could it be good again for me? I was hoping beyond hope.

  9

  The Reflecting Pool

  1973

  The match flared as Gabriel struck it against the box. He lit the kerosene lantern and hung it under the rail of the porch. The rocking chair outside his cabin room, adjacent to Ezra’s, was his favorite place to read at night. The River coasted along just a few feet away. It bubbled and washed over the bedrock, creating a lush and unceasing natural accompaniment in the wilderness.

  Gabriel turned the lamp key a quarter of a turn to brighten the light and opened The Journal to read.

  I often wonder where I’d be without The River. At some point, I’m not sure when, it became the center. I want to know the waters. I want to hear the waters . . . not just hear, but also listen. I want to feel the waves and the eddies, the peace and power, the current and the calm. I knew of the waters for years. I’d heard stories about people taking trips and riding the white water, but once I experienced it for myself, it changed everything. I know people who are near the water, but they don’t embrace it. Whether fear or indifference, they have never allowed themselves to be swept away. My family tree is forever changed. I hope I’m around to see my children’s children embrace The River. The River washed away my past. New beginnings is the theme of these waters . . . new beginnings.

  R. Allen Clarke,

  June 23, 1946

  “Hey!”

  A hushed shout erupted from the darkness beside the porch. Gabriel jumped to attention and dropped The Journal as he looked into the woods.

  He heard snickering as he saw two figures dart off behind the trees.

  “Hey, who’s there? Freddie! Was that you? You’re going to pay for that!” Gabriel shouted through a whisper so he wouldn’t disturb Ezra, who had already turned in for the night.

  Gabriel looked down at Rio. “I thought you were supposed to protect this place?” The dog lifted his eyes but stayed comfortably curled up in his sleeping position.

  “Were you in on it?” Gabriel asked the lazy dog again as he sat back down, his pulse still racing from the prank.

  “Whatcha doin’?” Tabitha startled him as she came up the steps from the other side of the porch.

  “Are you kidding me?” Gabriel leaned back in his rocker and closed his eyes and exhaled.

  “What?” she asked with a puzzled tone.

  “Your timing is impeccable. I just got scared out of my boots from this side and then you get me from over here.” Gabriel motioned to both sides of the porch.

  Tabitha plopped down in Ezra’s rocking chair.

  “Was it Freddie?”

  “Probably. He’s going to pay.”

  Tabitha bit her bottom lip as she smiled from ear to ear.

  “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “I would never,” she said through her Cheshire cat grin.

/>   “Aw, man.” Gabriel shook his head in disbelief.

  Tabitha stood up in front of Gabriel and pushed her knees between his. Her faded jade-green sweatshirt matched her eyes. Her form-fitting, faded Levi jeans had a hole in the left thigh revealing her tan skin. She leaned down and put her hands on the rocking chair arms, her face just inches from his.

  “Come walk with me.”

  Her breath smelled like spearmint. Gabriel was nervous but exhilarated. Their eyes locked.

  Before he could respond, she grabbed his hands and pulled him up.

  “Okay, okay.” Gabriel reached inside the door of his room and grabbed his flashlight. They descended the steps of the porch and followed the path at the water’s edge. This time they headed upstream.

  They held hands on the rocky path that weaved through the towering pines and firs. The narrow beam of the flashlight shook along the path in front of them. After a few minutes hike, they arrived at a clearing next to some gentle rapids.

  “Let me see the flashlight.” She dropped Gabriel’s hand and shined the light on a series of rocks that led out into the flowing water. One by one, she hopped and stepped her way on each one until she landed on the last one big enough to sit on. It was about thirty feet offshore and smack in the middle of the light rapids. Gabriel stood alone on the banks.

  “Uh, I can’t see anything.”

  Tabitha shined the light back on Gabriel’s feet, then on the first rock in front of him.

  “Come on out!” she yelled. “Just follow the light. It’s easy.”

  Gabriel didn’t reply. He took the first step and held his arms out to catch his balance.

  He lifted up his large hiking boots to take his second step, and the light moved. His foot landed on the rock, but he was disoriented by the darkness and almost fell in.

  Tabitha started laughing. “I’m sorry! I sneezed!” she said over the sound of the waters.

  “Keep it steady please!” Gabriel said through a smile. This moment was another picture of their brief journey together. It was Tabitha pulling him, calling him into something new and beautiful. She was the risk taker; he was trying to find his way. She seemed to know him better than he knew himself.