I can see him thinking if he could just make it to those cliffs . . .
Did he amuse himself by thinking of the stories they’d soon be telling of this camping weekend gone awry? Or was he still panicked and worried about his missing buddy, Scott? At what point did he realize—or did he ever realize—that it was his survival that was now at stake?
We can walk his last steps. We can retrieve his bones to be laid to rest next to his mother’s. But we’ll still never know everything that happened to Tim. Sooner or later, his father and his friends will have to come to terms with that. That the quality of their future sleep won’t be determined by a visit to his grave, but by their ability to let go.
I’m panting by the time we complete our meadow crossing, traverse more patches of evergreens, then start winding our way back up. I don’t know why we’re going up. I’m very sorry to be hiking up.
Once again, Miggy, Neil, Scott, and I fall back, Bob slowing to maintain his position as rear guard. No one talks. We’re all swiping tiredly at our sweaty, dripping faces when we finally clear the rise and discover ourselves in the middle of a dusty boulder field, face-to-face with a solid wall of jutting rock.
The cliff. Taller and broader than I ever imagined from the other side of the canyon. Like trying to take in the entire length of a football stadium in a single glance from five feet away. Can’t be done.
“Holy shit,” Miggy breathes as we stagger to a halt beside the forward members of our party.
Already I can see the dark opening of a cave here, then another there, peppering the base. Some appearing to bore into the cliff face itself, others formed from collapsing piles of rock. Easily a dozen if not several dozen possible shelter sites.
“Fuck me,” Scott groans.
For once, his friends don’t argue.
* * *
—
Lunch break. Martin doesn’t want to; Nemeth doesn’t give him a choice. Clearly, we have our work cut out for us. Now is the time to drink, eat, prepare for the coming battle. While we get situated, Luciana and Daisy take off for a quick recon. The dog picks her way easily among the sea of smaller stones and larger boulders. It looks to me like year after year, pieces of the reddish brown cliff have broken off and rained down below, until we’re surrounded by hot, dusty rocks, some the size of footballs, others Volvos, with lots of grit and sandy particles in between.
The sun that felt so lovely just an hour ago now feels like a broiler, radiating off the stones around us. I wish I had a brimmed cap to shield my face. I notice Bob dampening the bandana around his neck, then tying it around the lower half of his face. I follow his example, giving him a thumbs-up when he nods in my direction.
Everyone is dousing themselves in more bug spray, adding a chemical tang to our exciting lunch of nuts, granola, and dried fruit. I make a new deal with myself. Survive this mission, never eat granola again. At least the limited food choices keep us from lingering.
Luciana and Daisy return with an update. “I lost count at eighteen openings, and that’s just what I can see from standing in one place. Some are probably too small, some may be quite deep. Impossible to tell without checking each one. Daisy is a skilled rock climber from working rubble piles, but the sheer size of this wall . . . We could use a team of search dogs, not just a lone canine.”
Martin nods, takes out his map, and snaps it open on the rock before him. “Our original plan broke this area into four quadrants. Now that we’re here looking at it . . . I say we ditch that and go with a standard hasty search strategy—two of us will start at either end of the cliff face and work from the outside in, while the remaining members of our party start at the midpoint and work from the inside out. We’ll do a quick study of all the possible cave openings, mark ones that have signs of habitation as worthy of further exploration by Daisy.”
He pauses, we nod.
“Now, according to the map, midpoint looks about a hundred yards that away.” He points to my right. “We’ll set up there. Two of us will hoof it in opposite directions to the far ends. Two more can head out for halfway down. Leaving the final two hikers to start at the middle, working toward the ends. Make sense?”
I get what he’s doing, trying to cover as much of the massive protrusion as quickly as possible. We arrived later than planned, given our impromptu search of the lean-to area. All of us, including Daisy, will tire soon enough. Not to mention in these hot, dry conditions, water will be an issue. No pretty lakes and meandering streams for refills in the immediate vicinity. I’ve already chugged my first bottle, while Daisy looks like she could go for another bowl or two.