Because of its dramatic mountains and lush rain forests, it was often compared to Eden. Kauai’s beautiful, untamed terrain had been featured in many movies, including all three of the Jurassic Park flicks. In fact, even though this particular guidebook had been written especially for “penny-pinchers” like us, its author strongly recommended that sightseers scrimp, save, or do whatever it took in order to see it all by helicopter.
The more I read, the more excited I became.
We’d barely gotten off the plane at Lihue Airport before I noticed a man in his thirties or forties waving at us. He was dressed in jeans and the usual loud Hawaiian shirt. But his face had that familiar weatherworn surfer look, with amazingly green eyes and leathery skin that indicated he was no stranger to the sun.
“Jessie and Nick, right?” he greeted us. “I’m Chip, your pilot and tour guide for the day.” After we shook hands all around, he announced, “Okay, so if you guys are ready, let’s hit the skies.”
As we crossed the field toward the helicopter, Chip explained, “This helicopter is equipped with a two-way intercom system, so we can talk during the flight. That way, I can tell you what you’re seeing and you can ask me anything that comes up.”
The four-passenger helicopter, which Chip informed us was a Bell JetRanger, had huge windows that offered excellent views. It was also surprisingly comfortable, I discovered as we seat-belted ourselves in.
However, I quickly forgot all about creature comforts as we rose into the air and the island’s beauty spread out before us. Chip explained via the earphones that we were starting along the north coast, heading west toward the famed Na Pali Coast. The view was amazing, and I snapped one picture after another of the treacherous volcanic mountains that edged the coastline. Just as the guidebook had indicated, I recognized those craggy peaks, jutting high into the air from dense green rain forests, from the movies—and I half-expected to see a T. rex tromping through the thick foliage.
“Pretty spectacular, huh?” Chip said. “Next we’re going to head toward the center of the island. We’ll be flying over Waimea Canyon, the largest canyon in the Pacific. In fact, its nickname is the Grand Canyon of the Pacific. The rivers and the lava flowing off Mount Waialeale, the island’s ancient volcano, created it thousands of years ago. The Waimea River still flows through the canyon, cutting it deeper and wider every day.”
Gesturing toward the guidebook he clutched in his hand, Nick asked, “Didn’t I read that the canyon is over ten miles long?”
“That’s right,” Chip returned. “And it’s about a mile wide. It’s also over thirty-five hundred feet deep. Today it’s part of Kokee State Park, and there are hiking trails running through it. It can be pretty treacherous going, but people do it all the time.”
“Can you reach it by driving?” I asked.
“Sure, but it’s a long trek. Waimea Canyon Road is about forty miles long. It’s also a pretty rough road. Trust me: It’s not for everybody. But you two look like you could handle a stop inside the canyon. That way, you can get out and really take a look around.”
“Cool,” Nick muttered. I glanced over at him and saw that his eyes were glowing.
The spiky terrain of the island’s northwest coast suddenly gave way to a dramatic canyon. The dense green rain forest now covered craggy cliffs and deep crevices carved out of dusty red volcanic rock. Waimea Canyon really did remind me of the Grand Canyon.
“There it is!” I cried.
Nick was already doing some pretty serious picture-taking of his own.
“Look at that!” I cried, pointing to a silvery waterfall that looked as if it plunged hundreds of feet downward. As if it weren’t dramatic enough in itself, a rainbow floated in front of it.
“Wow,” Nick muttered, sounding totally awestruck. “This is so amazing.”
I reached over and took his hand in mine, giving it a squeeze. I was glad I hadn’t given in to my fears about what this trip might be all about and that, for once, I’d just accepted it for what it was: a bonus for being a good tourist.
When I felt the helicopter start to descend, I peered over the side to watch as Chip slowly brought us down into the canyon. Our landing on a rocky ledge was so expertly done that I had a feeling he made this stop for all his customers.
“Okay, I’m gonna let you folks out here for a while,” Chip told us. “Feel free to hike around and get a feel for the place.”
“Great!” Nick exclaimed. “Thanks a lot!”
As soon as we scrambled out of the helicopter, he and I began making our way along what looked like a trail, albeit a rough, poorly traveled one. I had to pay close attention to keep from stumbling on the loose rocks that had deviously set themselves down along the path as if they were deliberately trying to trip hikers.
But I also managed to take in the spectacular view. We really were deep inside the canyon, which stretched as far as I could see in every direction. The craggy layers of rock looked as treacherous as they were beautiful. The only softness in the harsh terrain that surrounded us came in the form of the low scrubby shrubs that meandered through the rocks like rivulets.
As we walked for what must have been at least a couple of miles, the experience was so absorbing that I totally forgot to check the time. At least until I realized the sun had gotten substantially higher in the clear blue sky. It was also getting uncomfortably hot.
“Maybe we should be getting back,” I suggested, glancing over my shoulder uneasily. By this point, the helicopter was no longer in sight. Not only had I lost track of the time; I hadn’t realized we’d walked so far. “Chip didn’t say how long we’d be staying here.”
Nick shielded his eyes with his hand and gazed off. “I’d really like to get some more hiking in before we leave. This place is incredible.”
“I know, but—”
I never got to finish my sentence. The thunderous noise that suddenly reverberated through the canyon made it impossible for us to hear each other speak.
For a second or two, I wondered what was going on. An earthquake? I wondered, more puzzled than afraid. Or some other type of natural disaster?
And then, as I stood halfway down the 3,500-foot-deep canyon and watched our helicopter rise into the air without us, I understood that we were in the middle of a disaster, all right.
But it was one that had nothing to do with nature.
Chapter 14
“A door is what a dog is perpetually on the wrong side of.”
—Ogden Nash
Where’s he going?” Nick demanded. “What’s he doing?”
“Wait!” I screamed. “Come back! Are you crazy?”
Nick shook his head tiredly. “Save your breath, Jess. He can’t hear you.”
“But he left us here!” I cried. “Stranded in the middle of nowhere! What on earth could he be thinking? How are we supposed to—”
I snapped my mouth shut. In a sudden flash, I understood exactly what was going on.
Being stranded in the middle of nowhere was no accident.
My head buzzed as I tried to wrap my brain around the incomprehensible thing that had just happened. There was only one explanation: We’d been left here to die.
The wheels in my head were turning. Whoever gave us the free helicopter trip—whoever really did, since it obviously wasn’t the hotel that had arranged to have us stranded at the bottom of a canyon—had decided that Nick and I were getting a little too close to the truth. The truth about who had killed Marnie and the truth about why.
As I tried to digest what was suddenly so obvious, the wheels in my head weren’t the only thing that was turning. All around me, the entire canyon seemed to be whirling like a merry-go-round.
“I’m trying to convince myself this is all just some ridiculous misunderstanding,” Nick said in a strained voice. “Unfortunately, I’m not doing a very good job.”
Suddenly he snapped his fingers. “Hey, what about your cell phone?” he suggested. I heard a distinct note of optimism in his voic
e. “I didn’t bring mine, since I figured it was just one more thing to carry. But did you bring yours?”
“I did!” I cried. But when I pulled it out, I saw that there was no signal.
“Look, I’m sure we won’t be stranded here for long,” I insisted. “I mean, they’ve got to patrol this whole area from the air. Don’t you think so?”
“Sure,” he agreed, sounding as uncertain as I had. “They probably come by every few hours to make sure no hikers or campers get left behind.”
“Right.” I could barely get the word out. I was too busy looking around at our wild and treacherous surroundings. Steep mountains, shaped like canine teeth and edged with sharp, forbidding-looking rocks, that towered above us into the sky and dropped just as far below. A waterfall the height of a multistory skyscraper, thousands of gallons of water shooting downward with alarming force. Thick ground cover everywhere, making it hard to move around and hiding who only knew what kind of wildlife.
I had a feeling there weren’t a lot of hikers or campers who came this way.
“But in the meantime,” I suggested, “maybe we should look around for a way out of here.” I tried to keep my tone light. It wasn’t easy, given the fact that a lump the size of a small boulder had lodged itself in my throat.
“Definitely,” Nick agreed. “And we’re going to think positive. There’s got to be a way out of here. There’s no way we’re stuck. I mean, gazillions of tourists come to Kauai every year. How would the island’s biggest industry survive if they lost a couple of visitors in their canyon every now and then?” Glancing around, he added, “We’re going to find our way out of here. The question is, which way should we head?”
Like him, I looked to the right, to the left, and behind. My spirits plummeted even further. There was no logical answer to his simple question, since there was clearly no easy way out. Not unless your idea of an afternoon stroll was struggling a few thousand feet up out of a canyon. As for which direction to proceed, I didn’t have a clue. We could move west, with the sun, or east so it was behind us, but I had no idea which way was more likely to get us out of here and back toward civilization.
“You decide,” I finally said.
He glanced around a few more times, then began walking. I didn’t know what factors he’d considered in making his decision, but I suspected he didn’t have any better idea than I did. Still, doing something seemed a whole lot better than doing nothing. So I followed.
We walked in silence for a very long time, with Nick leading the way and me just a few feet behind. I tried to find comfort in the steady way he marched along, sticking to what could loosely be defined as a path. I concentrated on the rhythm of his footsteps, the soft thuds that were the only sound I heard aside from the manic chittering of birds.
The longer we walked, the harder the blistering sun beat down on us. The merciless heat made me wonder why people actually paid good money to come to hot, sunny places like this one.
Nick and I walked for hours. I kept glancing at my watch, each time figuring a very long time must have passed since I’d last checked. Instead, I discovered that the day was crawling by. Two fifty, three o’clock, three ten.
The sun was getting low enough to cast sweeping shadows on the west side of the canyon, meanwhile illuminating the east side so the red portions looked as if they were on fire. But that didn’t mean the air was getting any cooler. It was disheartening, realizing that it would be hours before the sun’s rays stopped working so hard at draining away the last bits of energy I possessed. I berated myself for not having had the presence of mind to bring along a bottle of water. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about those frosty glass pitchers of ice-cold pineapple juice I’d noticed sitting casually on a white linen tablecloth at the hotel’s breakfast. At the time I’d barely glanced in their direction.
I reminded myself that baking in the sun was better than trying to make our way through the pitch black of nightfall. Which I knew would be the situation all too soon.
“Are you okay?” Nick called back over his shoulder. I’d already become so used to the silence that the sound of a human voice made me jump.
“Huh? Oh, I’m fine. How about you?”
“I’m okay. A little thirsty, but fine.” We walked another few feet before he added, “I’m trying not to think about the mai tai that I keep telling myself is waiting for me at the other end of this adventure.”
Two mai tais, I thought. At least. And a tall glass of ice water. One that’s about as high as that waterfall way off in the distance, the one that doesn’t seem to get any closer no matter how far we walk. Frankly, I didn’t know if fantasizing about cool liquids I wasn’t likely to encounter ever again only made things worse.
“You know,” he went on, sounding almost chatty, “we’re kind of lucky, in a way.”
I couldn’t wait to hear where he was going with this. Especially since I was starting to find his Boy Scout cheeriness a tad irritating.
“I mean, we’re getting to see some of the splendors of the Hawaiian Islands that most visitors never get to see.”
“Certainly not this close,” I mumbled, stepping around a large rock that looked like it had just moved into my path on purpose.
“It’s one thing to view Waimea Canyon from a helicopter,” Nick continued with the same hardy cheerfulness. I knew he meant well, but frankly, at this point he just seemed to be making things worse. “And you’ve got to admit, the views from the helicopter were pretty amazing.”
“Absolutely spectacular,” I agreed. But I was thinking, Too bad we’ll never be able to show any of our friends all the great pictures we took.
“But being down here,” he continued, “right in the middle of such an incredible natural wonder…that’s really something.”
“This is certainly an experience I’ll never forget,” I assured him. I just hope I have more than a day or two to look back on it, I thought. The image of the mai tais, the mile-high glass of ice water, and the refreshing pitchers of pineapple juice was gone. In its place I pictured a slew of vultures flying overhead, licking their lips, at least metaphorically, as I took my final breaths in one of the most spectacular spots on earth.
All of a sudden, Nick stopped walking. I did too, although I came this close to bumping into him.
“Jess?” he said, turning around to face me. “I just thought of something. Don’t pilots have to log in information like how many people they left with—and how many people they returned with? There’s got to be some regulatory agency that makes sure things like this don’t happen.”
My mind raced as I debated whether or not to point out that this was happening. We had been stranded here, so obviously our helicopter pilot had no fear of paperwork. But by that point I was so hot, thirsty, and tired that it just seemed easier to agree.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I told him. “Besides, I’m certain we’ll find our way out soon. In fact, we’ll probably be laughing about this by nightfall.”
“Between someone spotting us down here and us getting ourselves out, I don’t think you and I really have anything to worry about,” he concluded.
His innocence made me want to lean over and hug him. He reminded me of a little kid, begging for some sensible explanation that had the power to banish the ghosts and monsters from underneath his bed.
As we started trudging along again, I became aware of an uncomfortable rumbling in my stomach. As if being hot and thirsty weren’t bad enough, I could now add intense hunger to the list of things I yearned to complain about but didn’t because I was afraid of lowering our morale even further.
I guess Nick’s stomach was on the same schedule as mine, because he suddenly glanced over his shoulder and said, “I don’t suppose you brought anything to eat, did you?”
I was about to say no in as upbeat and positive a way as possible when I remembered the two bagels I’d squirreled away at breakfast that morning. At the time, I’d wondered if it was worth the trouble. Now I wished I’d
stuck donuts and bagels and anything else that was edible into every pocket I could find.
“I have bagels!” I announced triumphantly, un-buckling my backpack and pulling them out. Even though they’d been stuck in there with everything else I routinely carried around, they were bearing up well. Certainly much better than the donuts and Danish pastries I was fantasizing about would have.
“Great,” Nick said breathlessly. “Thank you for being such a good planner.”
“Maybe we should split one,” I suggested. “Then we could split the second one later.”
Nick looked at me woefully. While my idea made sense, I realized that making even small admissions about one’s vulnerability was a horribly effective way of making a bad situation even worse.
Even so, he willingly accepted the half I offered him after tearing the bagel into two equal pieces.
We started walking again, chomping on our bagels. I assumed I was coordinated enough to do both those things, walk and chomp, while returning the second bagel to my backpack. But somehow, when I thought I was slipping it back inside, I instead managed to slide it past the bag’s opening. Before I even realized what was happening, the second bagel—our only form of nourishment—went tumbling down, bouncing off several big, craggy rocks before disappearing deep inside the canyon.
“No!” I cried, tempted to run after it but knowing that hurtling into a rocky abyss was probably an even less savory way of ending my life than starving to death.
If I ever get out of here, I thought mournfully, I’m never going to take a bagel for granted again.
I glanced at Nick, and the expression on his face made me want to cry. I was sure there were plenty of things he would have liked to say to me, but mercifully he just sighed and continued walking.
We’d gone a few hundred feet farther, meanwhile finishing up our pathetic half bagels, when Nick proposed, “Maybe we should just find a comfortable spot and wait for someone to rescue us.”
Right from the Gecko Page 23
