part four

    We hurry across the Havasu creek, back and forth.  The rain is fierce now. I feel cold, but walking fast helps. We enter the grape filled valley and the buckets of raindrops are joined by aspirin sized hail balls. The river is rising and taking on a brown film color. I look up and see muddy water pouring over the top of the rim walls... everywhere. Where the cliff trail was dry hours ago a mighty shower now pours down on us, we climb through newborn waterfalls. It is slick and slippery. We pass the other hikers headed back to Supai. Not many words are exchanged but a few 'good lucks' and 'be carfuls'.  I feel excitement, crazy energy from the storm, wonderment at the strength and spontaneity of Mother Nature. We stick together.

    About a mile below Beaver Falls the trail makes another crossing. On the opposite bank we see four other people from our party.... I can see their eyes are wide from here. Excitement? The rain has let up. They beckon us to hurry and join them. It isn't so fun to cross anymore. Ruby is almost breathless as she describes her experience of forty minutes ago. 'I was standing right there!' she points to the submerged bank of a brand new side creek that is gushing over a twelve foot cliff into the Havasu creek. What was a dry side canyon hours ago now gushes to life.  The water is thick with mud, rock and red sand. There is an usual smell in the air, like the damp earth of a cave, like sulfur. It smells damp yet dry. The thick water is still shooting out over the cliff like projectile vomit. It has been an hour since Cedar and Ruby heard the grumbling roar that sent them running up the bank out of the draw. The flow has slowed considerably. They show me a video they had been shooting, a panorama of this spot.

   Ruby's video dialog; 'Here are all the elements of a possible flash flood.... the rain, the dry creek bed, water pouring over the rim of the canyon..... I don't know why there is only a small trickle here, it has rained hard for hours now'.  The video abruptly ends, this is where they hear and smell it coming. A feeling of panic, an overdose of adrenalin, refrigerator size boulders falling from the cliffs pushed by the unexpected flood. Cedar is concerned about the boats. 'They could never have ridden that sudden amount of water out.... they're gone for sure' No. They can't be gone. They were tied tight to the wall..... it will let them raise up and the ride the flood wave out.... maybe, just maybe they are still there..... I want to hurry and see.

     We wade across again, just above the side creek created by the flash flood. The water is just about up to our chests, but it is still gentle, unlike the mudflow that has taken over the canyon below us. Larry and Elaine are still down there, somewhere, in the canyon below. I feel anxious, alert, like something important is pending, like when you see a mountain lion in your yard.  All my senses are heightened.... adrenalin.

    Ten minutes later we find Larry. Hallelujah! I see him slip down the last bit of bank to join us. 'Oh man, am I glad to see you all. I thought I was a goner' He had climbed the hillside when the flood rushed passed him, taking higher ground. His video dialog: 'something is happening. Oh man this is not good. The water is rising, I better get out of here. This is bad.' As the water rises he turns the camera on himself, gives a loving good bye to his family and settles in atop a huge rock for the night. Luckily we are together, now. I start thinking about Elaine, what if something really bad has happened to her. My natural state of 'worrisome mother' kicks in and I imagine all sorts of scary scenarios. Michael was the last one to see her and he said she was sunbathing near the mouth of the canyon, near the boats. I feel the gritty feeling of dread. 

     We come to yet another river crossing.  The current is strong but it is only thigh deep.  We decide to use the three buddy system.  I grip Matt and Larry's arm and we begin to slowly rotate across the creek.  Wouldn't you know it I lose my footing and pull Matt down with me, his eyes are startled wide open and seem to say to me 'Oh mom!'.  Larry has a solid foot hold and we are soon recovered.  My legs and feet are sandblasted with the age old clay and bruised by rolling rocks.  They begin to swell... just a bit.  We decide not to cross again.  I walk in the back  of the line with Larry and Bob, urging speed.  Soon we come to another ford. 'NO way' is the consensus.  We start to bushwhack along the cliff wall.  Matt is out front scouting a through route, our 'indian scout'.  The rock climbing is doable, but a bit challenging for some.  Finally we scramble down a rock ledge and find the path which has crossed the creek again to join us.

As we walk alongside the water we notice fish scattered on the ground, left behind by the flood.  Larry picks one up that must be a 22 inch brown trout  'Look at this one.  We can't leave this one behind'.  I agree we should bring it ...'for dinner tonight' I say jokingly.

We have come miles and still no Elaine.  We trudge on, sometimes on the path  and sometimes not, for often it dips down under this new, bigger creek.  It is still clear but threatening clouds begin to move across the small patch of visible sky.  Finally we spot some of out river mates and hear the greatly appreciated story of Elaine's rescue. She had been standing on a rock ledge on the opposite wall of the canyon, no path to the right or left and no way to get any higher, the water had risen to within a few feet below the shelf. Four of the bigger guys formed a human chain into the creek, Adam was chest high. First she threw her backpack to see how well they could catch and then she jumped in the raging mud hoping to be grabbed.  She climbed from one to the other until she was safe on our side, the trail side of the messy water.

We are all here, together. What a strong feeling of togetherness I feel ... I never want to be apart again, not until things fall back into place anyhow.  Soon I hear the sad news of our boats departure, disappearance, detachment.  They are gone, kaput, discombobulated, headed down river with all our precious possesions ...and more importantly WITHOUT us!

I climb the last half mile hauling mama trout in one hand, fingers hooked through her useless gills and grabbing hand holds in in the rock wall with the other.

In the late afternoon sun I sit on the hard, cold rock on the cliff that overlooks the spewing mouth of the Havasu Creek.  I just stare at the place our boats should be. I am thirsty, no one has any water left, we didn't really take enough for the hike in the first place.  All our food, all our water, all our warm clothes, and sleeping equipment, and shelter, and fire starting stuff, EVERYTHING is gone... rushing down stream ... headed down the mighty Colorado, riding the great wave in the freak flash flood.  I think with apprehension 'did I retie the straps after I undid them for my back pack ???!?Did I tighten the one that holds down Matt's kayak???!? How many did I loosen and how many things will hang on when the Zambezi FLIPs!?!?!