Chapter 20

August 30 - September 5, 1999

Grand Canyon Trip 7

A while later they made it back to the sand bar, to find dinner well under way -- but Dan was doing it, with help from Randy and some of the customers, especially Sam, the seventyish guy who was diabetic but sure didn't let it slow him down. "Sorry to take so long," she told Dan, "But it's good that you got started. Where's Crystal, and Al, for that matter?"

"They went off on a little hike with Karin," Sam told her. "They left not long after you did."

"We didn't see them," Scooter frowned.

"They didn't go the way you did," he replied. "They headed, well, up that cliff over there," he said, pointing. "Apparently there's a way up to that other little canyon."

That made a little bit of sense. Al probably knew the route, she thought, and there wasn't much privacy on this beach. Maybe Al had gotten pressed into service to mediate the hassles between Crystal and her mother. Maybe it would even work; Scooter knew that Crystal had been stressed about that from the beginning of the trip, and the business with Jerry yesterday had just added to the strain.

Scooter figured that between them Al and Crystal could pretty well take care of themselves, so didn't worry about it; she had other things on her mind, since the talk with Dallas, although she gave no hint of them. Crystal, Karin, and Al didn't reappear until after the call to dinner, when the shadows were getting long. Nothing much was said, but Scooter knew her friend well enough to see that she was a lot less tense than she had been earlier. Good, maybe something had been solved.

Dinner was pork chops and mashies, another good Canyon Tours dinner -- the company had always prided itself on feeding the customers well and there was no exception this night. As the light grew low after dinner had been cleaned up and the dishes washed and put away, another campfire was under way. Randy played some of the old songs on the guitar, and Al told some Georgie White stories. And then, to Scooter's surprise, for the first time since her death he told some Louise Buck stories, although still not revealing how recently she'd died. Most of that time Crystal and Karin sat next to each other, occasionally with arms around each other. Nothing was said, but the body language told Scooter about what she wanted to know.

As the fire burned low, people started drifting away, and Scooter was among them. She headed down to her raft, intent on getting some sleep, but when she got there she realized that she wasn't sleepy and needed the quiet time. She dug her drybag out of the boatman's box, and pulled out a cigar, then hiked back up onto the beach, found a spot where there was sand to sit on, and a comfortable rock to lean against. She lit the cigar, took a deep puff, and let the smoke drift away slowly as she turned her question over in her mind.

Should she?

On one level, it was close to a no brainer. It had been a long time, Al had given her a general clearance back up the river, and it could well be fun. And Dallas was a nice guy who maybe deserved a break. But the danger was that doing a little sportfucking could go into places where she didn't want to go, and real quickly. He was still hurting and looking to recover. Maybe she could help ... but whatever, she had to keep it casual. Realistically, Dallas was a pretty reasonable guy, and from other discussions she knew that he had a good job -- but if she came on to him too hard, he might take it more seriously than she intended, and hell, she might too. She didn't know him well, but instinctively knew that he wasn't the type of guy to risk her having to choose between him and the Canyon. She'd come to enjoy her life in the Canyon, homeless though she technically was. Back in the spring she'd given some thought to giving up the outdoor life, getting a straight job, getting married, and all that shit. She'd rejected it even before Crystal had called and sung her the siren song that brought her here. Maybe she'd want to leave sometime, but not soon. The hardest day of any trip cycle was the day off in Flagstaff with nothing much to do but shop for necessities, spend some time in the hot tub at the motel, and have a few beers at the Burro. When she got right down to it, she wasn't sure how she was going to make it through the winter while not being in the Canyon.

Pros and cons. She sat there rolling them over for a while, without reaching a resolution. Maybe it would be more clear down river. She remembered Louise advising to keep Canyon romances toward the tail end of the trip so it would be easier to leave them in the Canyon, and that seemed to be good advice.

As she sat thinking about it, she slowly became aware that Al, Crystal and Karin were down by the rafts, talking very softly; people were sleeping now. She could hear the voices but couldn't make out more than the odd word, but from the tone things were pretty mellow. Finally, she heard Al, a little more clearly. "Hey, you two. It's late, and we got a big day tomorrow. I think I'll turn in. We can talk some more tomorrow."

"See you in the morning, Al," Karin said. "Sleep tight."

Scooter took another drag on her cigar and decided to just stay where she was for a while, to let Crystal and Karin have some alone time. Again the two talked in whispers; Scooter could occasionally hear their voices but couldn't make out the words. Eventually, she saw Karin get up and head back for her sleeping bag up in the tamarisks. She sat there for several more minutes since she didn't want anyone to think she'd been snooping -- after all, she hadn't been -- but finally stood up and walked down to her raft, which was parked next to Crystal's. Her friend was still getting around, unrolling her Paco Pad and sleeping bag. "So, how's it going?" she asked innocently. "The way you looked around the fire it looks like you patched it up with your mom some."

"Oh, yes," Crystal replied in a mellow tone. "I still can't believe it's really true, but it has to be, unless this is a dream or something."

"Sounds pretty good," Scooter said noncommittally as she unrolled her own Paco Pad.

"Scooter, it's fucking unbelievable," she replied.

"What's unbelievable?"

"Oh, God," Crystal sighed. "I want to tell you but I can't right now, there's still a lot of stuff to iron out. But like I said, I want to make sure this whole thing isn't a dream." She was silent for a moment, then added. "Scooter, you deserve to know, but I just can't tell you right now. Down the river, maybe back in Flag, OK?"

"Sounds like it's pretty close to none of my business, anyway," she replied as she pulled off her T-shirt.

"I can't tell yet. Maybe, maybe not. Look, can I bum a cigar? I'd like to sit and think about this for a while, maybe straighten things out in my own head a little."

"If you haven't been smoking cigars, the answer is no," Scooter told her as she took off her shorts, getting down to the bikini she'd worn all day, but was long dry after the long soak in the pool up the side canyon. "It'd make you barf. Maybe you ought to drag out that little alcohol stove you carry and have a cup of tea or something. If you want to sit there and brew yourself one, I'm not going to mind since I intend to be asleep in about five minutes."

"Thanks, Scooter," Crystal sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I can't come clean right now, but I will."

"Whenever you're ready, Crystal," Scooter said as she put the plug in the Paco Pad and unrolled her sleeping bag. "I got one to run by you too, but I don't think this is the time either."

The next days went easily, especially after the tension of the two days in Upper Granite Gorge. The uncomfortable but not excessive heat of the early part of the trip had evaporated, and for the first time on the trip Scooter made it through a full day on the river in shorts and T-shirt without feeling overheated.

And, following the stresses of Upper Granite Gorge, the group came together into an extended team, which usually happened about this point in the trip, if not before. People knew what to do and when to do it, and when there was work to be done it was rarely necessary to ask someone to do it; it just got done. If anything, it went even better than normal, since people realized that the crew was short a real boatman and stepped up to compensate. A couple customers even volunteered without having to be asked to deal with the rocket box daily. People were more friendly; above Upper Granite Gorge, the customers had pretty much stayed with each raft and boatman, but now they switched around a lot, often changing at every stop, occasionally in midstream.