One Expensive Mistake

It is exhilarating to live far from the fenced confines of the “sophisticated’ modern world. The Grand Canyon is a mystery. It is far from the reality of the miserable suit and tie people. This morning I flew into the canyon by chopper, with a pilot named Rahn. We were supposed to pick up river runners on the Colorado. They never showed up. We sat down there for an hour and a half, visiting, waiting, talking about religion, life, and our different views on the existance of God. We decided to fly up the river to see if there were any rafts headed our way. It turns out the river runners are coming tomorrow, on Saturday. This turned out to be an expensive mistake, but I don’t regret flying 150 m.p.h. over the north rim, into the gorge, and out like a hell-bat. It was windy and the helicopter was bouncing all the way back to the ranch.

The Colorado River was sure boiling with a silence as if it wanted to drown another human being in it’s current. So many mysteries occur in the canyon and it’s tributaries. Every year a freak accident occurs or someone goes missing, never to be found. Today at the ranch, it was abnormally quiet. The air was cool, a first sign that fall is coming.

We tried to feed a pet-shop mouse to some rattlers we have in captivity, but they didn’t bother it. When we catch native mice in the sticky traps and feed them to the snakes, they go berserk. Our fellow road runner, Billy, eats live varments right out the palm of your hand, now.  Never did I suspect these birds to be so intelligent. He comes into the lodge, and the men’s bunk house to visit with folks.

The nights are getting cold. Time to start wearing the jacket. This afternoon, all the employees left for the weekend. It’s just me and another guy named John who stays here occasionally. He’s watching an old movie in the other room, while I write this. The wind is blowing outside. The power we consume comes from two solar panels nearby.

Tonight, I am going to dream of boating down the Colorado among great cliffs of ancient strata, and daring fifteen foot rapids. Tomorrow morning I’ll be ready for another helicopter ride to the river…

Leave a Reply