by Will Hobbs
“That’s right—Troy Larsen,” he said, shaking hands with the ranger and pulling himself together. “What can you tell us about the water? Is it going down yet, or what?”
The ranger grimaced. “Not yet. In fact, there’s still over 100,000 c.f.s. coming into Lake Powell. They’ve erected a plywood frame on the top of the dam to try to add a little more storage. As of five A.M. this morning, they were releasing 75,000. I’d be real cautious, camp real high.”
The afternoon dragged on and on as the helicopters kept going out and coming back. There were four of them, and the round trip took forty minutes. Troy had long since retreated to the shade of the tamarisks. A big private group came limping in during the middle of the afternoon with five rafts and three kayaks—sixteen people all together. They’d had three flips in Crystal, and they were evacuating a man with an injured shoulder. “Can we camp with you guys tonight?” a woman asked me. “Of course,” I told her. Our spacious camp was beginning to look like the put-in back at Lee’s Ferry.
In the hottest part of the afternoon, Pug came to me and said, “Troy says we’re clearing out.”
I looked dumbfounded, I’m sure. “Is he serious?”
“Troy’s bummed about all the people here. He says we did all we can do. You know how he hates all this medical stuff. Says this isn’t what we came here for. He wants to just give the camp to this new group since they need it worse, and go down and find another camp where we can have some peace and quiet. Said there’s a couple of camps four miles down.”
For a second I thought I was going to blow. I could see Pug was hoping I wouldn’t. I realized Pug was just the messenger, and besides, I knew better. Provoking Troy wasn’t going to help anything, and Troy had a point. I said, “I wish he’d talked to me about it himself, but tell him there’s a lot of sense in what he’s saying. Let’s put down the kitchen, pack it up, and go.”
Chapter
19
Troy woke up listless. He sat and stared at the river. No helping get the food out, no helping with the dishes, no talking about what we might do that day. After breakfast he went to the shore and started throwing rocks far into the river. It looked like he was trying to reach the other side.
Predictably enough, Pug couldn’t resist the challenge and ran to join him. They got real loud, as if they were having an incredible amount of fun, but their mighty heaves kept falling short. Five minutes later we heard them declaring it couldn’t be done. “It’s much farther than it looks,” I heard Troy say.
“Hey, Adam,” Pug yelled, “come give it a try.”
Adam ran down there, selected a few rocks, and on his third try, sailed one all the way across.
“It’s just something I’m good at,” Adam apologized as he ran back to finish packing the kitchen box.
Pug gave a few more mighty tries; Troy just quit.
Adam said to me, “Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.”
“He’ll get over it.” As soon as I said it, I realized how much there was for Troy to try to get over.
“He’s like being around a minefield.”
“I know. Let’s talk about you, instead. You’re a man of many talents, Adam. Yesterday, during the big emergency, you amazed me. You were like a completely different person. So serious, so skillful …”
He laughed. “Lay it on me. I can use all the flattery I can get. It’s a lot of work becoming an Emergency Medical Technician—I’m going to take the test this fall, as soon as I turn eighteen. I thought it would be a good way to get ready for Discovery Unlimited. It helped persuade Al to hire me, too.”
Maybe that’s why Al let Adam take off and join us, I realized. Al was watching out for us. He sent us an E.M.T.
“What are you going to do in the fall besides take that test? You’re out of school, right?”
“Got a scholarship to Rice University, believe it or not.”
“What are you going to be?”
“A Texan, I guess.”
“I mean, what are you going to do? Are you thinking about a major?”
“Yeah, something really practical. I’m thinking about astronomy.”
“Hmmm,” I said. “I can see it. Big telescope, supernovas, black holes … just might be you.”
We packed up and got back on the river. A few miles brought us to Royal Arch Creek and the short hike up to Elves Chasm. The name sounded so enchanting we had to see it. Troy was neutral but he came along.
The trail led around and under and over the tops of huge boulders. The handholds and the path had been worn smooth by thousands and thousands of hands and feet. Where the side canyon pinched shut, the trail led to a pool below a waterfall where the creek splashed a mossy path through an artistic jumble of colossal boulders. I could picture them tumbling end over end down the canyon and then suddenly locking into these exquisite angles of repose.
It took only a few minutes to discover that if we swam to the head of the pool, we could crawl under and behind a leaning boulder, then climb to a landing in the little grotto at the top of the falls. There, with the creek pouring through our feet, we found a perfect jumping platform into the pool below. We played in the cool shadows, doing cannonballs, scrambling back up behind the boulders, jumping into the pool again—around and around like we were the elves of Elves Chasm. Troy, though, sat in the shade in self-imposed isolation—no elfishness for him.
Everyone was talking about spending the day here, away from the heat of the open canyon, then heading down for camp when it cooled off. Though it shouldn’t have been necessary—we’d already reached a consensus—Pug broached the idea with Troy, almost like he was asking permission on behalf of the rest of us. “Whaddaya say, Troy?”
“Fine with me,” he said. “I like it here.”
I was relieved.
A few of us walked down to the boats to assemble a picnic lunch, and brought it back. After we ate, Adam started scrambling around in the rocks and discovered there was a trail of sorts that led high above the falls. At one point he walked a narrow ledge, looking way down on us, and it gave me the willies. A few minutes later he reported back that there was another paradise up above with more waterfalls and pools, and maybe even a level higher than that.
“Higher levels of consciousness!” he raved when he got back down to ground level. “Ferns, flowers, cool pools! Let’s go!”
Though I was trying my best to imagine places even more beautiful than this, I couldn’t get past my fear of ledges. Looking absolutely straight down, like at the edge of a cliff, that was my nemesis. Everything blurs and starts to swim; I get all light-headed. I said, “I’m too comfortable right where I am, thanks.”
Adam led Star and Rita and Pug up there; I watched them cross the ledge and disappear.
Which left Troy and me below. I hiked back to the boat and got a book to read, came back up to Elves Chasm, and found a spot in the shade. After a few pages, I must have nodded off. When I opened my eyes, Troy was sitting a few feet away, watching me.
I could see he wanted to talk. I spoke first, out of nervousness, I suppose. “So, how are you feeling?” I asked.
“Better,” he said. “I had a killer headache this morning. I thought it was going to take my head off.”
“Did you take something for it?”
“I’ve got some prescription painkillers with me. I’m feeling pretty good now. Sometimes I get these at home, too, and they can be just about unbearable.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. The heat down here probably isn’t helping—maybe you’re getting dehydrated.”
He nodded. I could tell he wanted to get off the topic.
“Day Nine already,” he said. “Time’s running out.”
“I know. It’s going fast. After today, only four more complete days. That last morning they pick us up down at Diamond Creek doesn’t count.”
“Day Fourteen is the first day of the rest of my life, as they say.”
“So, what are you thinking about doing with it? Thinking about
college?”
He waved that suggestion away. “Are you kidding? Me? I’m thinking about being a manager for a girl bike racer.”
“Quit flirting,” I said. “Seriously, what are you thinking about?”
“That is what I’m thinking about. I’ve got a great place out in California—right on the beach. I want you to come out and see it. It’d be a great place for you to train.”
He’s kidding around, I told myself. Don’t let this get to you. “Have you forgotten I’m still in high school?” I said with a grin. “I’m not planning on moving to California anytime soon.”
“No, really,” he insisted. “I’ve got something I want you to think about. You don’t have to say yes or no right now—I just want you to think about it during the rest of the trip.”
“Don’t,” I said. “Just don’t lay anything heavy on me, Troy, all right?”
“Listen, Jessie …” His voice didn’t sound exactly affectionate. It sounded like a cross between demanding and pleading. “After this trip, you don’t really have to get right back home or anything, do you?”
I knew I couldn’t let him go any further. “Troy, it sounds like you’ve been working up another ‘alternate reality,’ and it sounds like it has me in it. I’m driving back to Boulder with Star as soon as we get off the river, and that’s the end of it.”
“C’mon, Jessie—we’d have a lot of fun. You could try it just for the summer, then finish high school in California if you like it. My place has a great guest room, windows out onto the ocean. What do you have to lose? Hey, take a risk—think big!”
I was stunned. This was much worse than I’d thought. He had this all built up in his mind, all planned out, just like he’d planned this Grand Canyon trip. And he actually thought it could happen.
“Whoa, Troy,” I said. “Slow down, here.” I didn’t want to make him mad, but I didn’t want to encourage him, either. I spoke quietly, trying my best to be caring but not lead him on. “We’re not right for each other—that’s the bottom line.”
“That’s not the way it seemed the other night.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong signals. I really am. You’ve been trying to make this a good trip for everyone, and I appreciate that.”
“You appreciate it? Jessie, that’s not enough. This is hard for me to say, so just listen. I need you in my life, can’t you see that? All I have now is a lot of stuff, a lot of expensive toys. My folks don’t want me around, that’s for sure. I need someone for me, and you’re the one I want. Don’t you think I’ve changed, for the better?”
“Yes, I do, and I hope you keep it up,” I said. “But I’m not ready to get involved like that, not with you or anybody. What I’m looking forward to is getting out on my own, after high school, inventing my own life. Don’t take this wrong, but I feel like what you’re hoping for is somebody who will magically fix up your life, make a life for you. Troy, that’s stuff you have to do for yourself.”
I could see I was making him angry. “So what’s been the point to all this effort I’ve been putting out, if you aren’t even willing to give me a chance? We’re made for each other, Jessie, why can’t you see that? How can I convince you? I even love the bumper sticker on your car, the one about Elvis. I used to have one like it myself.”
“Elvis?” I repeated, confused. “But my bumper sticker says …”
Suddenly this all came crashing into place, and I felt a knot forming in my stomach. “What does my bumper sticker say, Troy?” I asked slowly. “The one you like so much.”
“You know, ‘HONK IF YOU’RE ELVIS.’ It’s you. That’s all I’m saying. Cute, fun …”
My mind was racing. I had to get this out in the open, even though I knew it was going to upset him.
“You really were in Boulder this spring, weren’t you?” I said.
“What are you talking about?”
“That Elvis sticker—it was on the Bug when we bought it, but we scraped it off a couple of weeks later. It’s not there anymore. You must not have noticed at Lee’s Ferry.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, knowing he’d been busted. “So I was in Boulder. So what’s the big deal?”
“You were at my house, watching me where I live?”
He hesitated. “Oh, yeah. Your school, the bookstore where you work, all of it.” He had his head down now, and I almost thought he was going to cry.
A million thoughts were rushing through my mind. If he had even called, to say he was in town … What kind of person would go to such lengths, in secret? Was he going to keep doing this? Could it get worse? I knew I didn’t want to upset him any more. I needed to be really, really careful, I needed time to think.
Just act like this is all normal, I told myself. Keep your voice calm, don’t let him see you’re scared.
“Then I guess that really was you I saw at the bike race, wasn’t it,” I said.
“That’s right,” he responded, brightening. “I saw your big crack-up and everything. Saw you get back on the bike and win. You were amazing! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you, Jessie. You’ve got no end of potential.”
Just then we heard whooping and hollering—the hikers were returning. Not a minute too soon, I thought. My heart was racing like a train. Without another look at Troy, I ran over and dove into the pool, then found Star and gave her a big hug.
Back on the river, I barely noticed the classic Grand Canyon scenery as we floated down Conquistador Aisle. We were looking all the way up through buttes and mesas and temples to the tall trees on the rims, but I was much too preoccupied to enjoy it. I could barely focus on the cluster of bighorn sheep Pug spotted standing still as statues on a huge boulder just up from the river.
Everyone was still in a state of higher consciousness, having so recently descended from the wonders of Upper Elves Chasm. How I wished I’d braved that ledge and gone with them.
Instead I’d stayed behind, and now I knew too much, way too much. I tried to convince myself not to worry. Just four more days together on the river, and then I could put him behind me forever. Except, what if he wouldn’t let go? Heaven knows he could afford to push it even further. What if he moved out to Colorado? To Boulder? I wished I could talk to my dad.
What about everybody else on the trip? What had I gotten all of them into now? How was Troy going to react to our talk? Was he going to regret having admitted so much?
Remember to keep an eye out for camp, I told myself. We’re less than an hour from Blacktail Canyon, and if we miss the camps around there, we’re into another gorge.
Troy pushed methodically on his oars, revealing nothing of his state of mind. I suspected he was feeling an internal sort of thunder equivalent to the River Thunder at Crystal. And that was scary.
Chapter
20
I said nothing to Star about my conversation with Troy and what I’d learned. Best to tell no one, I decided. If they knew, they might act differently around Troy. He’d notice, and then what? I kept it all to myself and tried to act normal. Our camp at Blacktail Canyon had actually been fun. On the surface, nothing seemed any different.
The next day, as we fought our way through the big rapids of the middle granite gorge—Fossil, Specter, Bedrock, and Dubendorff—I was hoping that the passing of time might be working to our advantage. Everybody could really think about how far we’d come, what we were trying to do, and what it would take if we were all going to pull through together this time.
We passed Canyon Magic when they were away from their boats and hiking up a side canyon. It gave us a rush of pride to realize how many big rapids we’d been scouting and running all by ourselves, and putting behind us. On 70,000-some cubic feet per second.
We made camp on our tenth day at the brink of Tapeats Creek Rapid, at the mouth of Tapeats Creek, Mile 133. The creek was running big and clear and cold like a Rocky Mountain trout stream. The camp was so perfect it took only half a second for us to reach a consensus that we’d lay over there and spen
d a second night. We could spend a day off the rafts and hike up to Thunder River. Under the photograph in the mile-by-mile, it said Thunder River was the largest spring in the world.
After dinner, Adam made a major positive contribution to the group chemistry. He hiked up through barrel cactus and the talus rocks on the slope above us to try to get as close as possible to a bighorn ram that was grazing up there. Even from a distance the ram was impressive, with massive horns that made a full curl.
The ram was allowing Adam to get pretty close, within a hundred feet at least. Down at camp, Pug was eating his heart out that he hadn’t gone along. He’d never guessed Adam would get so close.
“It’s because this is a park,” Pug surmised. “They’re never hunted.”
We were about to find out how unafraid this particular ram was. Adam started blatting at it, like a sheep. The ram cocked its head, looked squarely at Adam, then came charging down the slope after him. Adam sprinted toward us, then held up as soon as he realized the ram had halted its charge. Adam went, “BAAAA … BAAAAA …” at the ram. Once again, the bighorn charged down the slope after him. In his retreat, Adam leaped a barrel cactus that might have been waist-tall.
The ram halted again, this time no more than a couple of hundred feet from camp. At half that distance, Adam had taken shelter behind a boulder, and now he scrambled to its top. “Adam,” Rita called. “You don’t suppose that sheep would—”
Adam glowered at the ram. “BAAAA! BAAAAA! BAAAAAA!”
I heard the bighorn snort twice, then come charging with a vengeance. Adam came racing into camp and knocked down a couple of lawn chairs in the process. The rest of us scattered like a covey of quail. The ram skittered up on top of the big boulder right by camp and put its horns down.
“I admire your greatness,” Adam piped up. “And humbly beg your forgiveness for whatever faux pas I have committed in my sincere attempt to communicate in your tongue.”
With another snort, the ram clattered off the boulder and walked downriver at a regal, leisurely pace. Troy was laughing. He looked relaxed, like his old laid-back self. Maybe, I thought, just maybe …
