Part 10 (1/2)
”Do you ever get tired of it?” asked Lena.
”Oh,” said JT, ”maybe there'll be a trip in October that seems to last too long. But generally, no. If I ever get to the point where I feel like I'm shuttling people back and forth, then I'll retire. I'm not there yet.”
Mitch.e.l.l flipped open his guidebook, then scrutinized the cliffs. ”Looks like we're coming up on Nankoweap,” he said. ”Are we going to stop? I'd sure love to see those granaries.”
”We'll see. It's a popular place,” said JT. ”If there's another party there, I'd just as soon not clog up the trail.”
It turned out there was, in fact, another large party at Nankoweap; from the river, JT could see a line of tiny figures inching up the steep peppered hillside to the ancient stone granaries. JT was tempted to skip the hike, but it was already past noon, and people were hungry.
”It's a hot, dry hike,” he cautioned them after lunch. ”If you come, bring two liters of water, and dunk your hat and s.h.i.+rt. No,” he told Sam sternly. ”The dog stays here.”
Not everyone went; Dixie stayed with Ruth and Lloyd, and Peter opted for a nap. Of those who went, all but Mitch.e.l.l followed JT's advice and clothed themselves head to toe in wet cotton. Mitch.e.l.l wore just a T-s.h.i.+rt, a dry one at that, claiming that he really did like the heat, and a wet s.h.i.+rt would just dry out within the first few minutes anyway, and he didn't like that yo-yo feeling of being hot, then cold, then hot again. JT was too hot to argue, and Mitch.e.l.l seemed to do just fine on the half-mile hike through desert scrub and then up along the side of the cliff, until, just fifty feet from the stone cubbies, he leaned over and vomited, not just once but retching repeatedly, so that JT had to grab on to the waistband of the man's shorts to keep him from tumbling over the edge of the trail. He sent the others on ahead and made Mitch.e.l.l sit and take small sips of water, but the man's face and neck had turned deep red, and, sensing he was dangerously close to heat exhaustion, JT uncapped his own jug and poured half a liter of good drinking water over Mitch.e.l.l's head and shoulders.
”Sorry,” wheezed Mitch.e.l.l.
Next time do what I tell you, JT wanted to say.
”This is amazing!” Lena called from above. ”Mitch.e.l.l! Are you coming?”
”In a minute,” Mitch.e.l.l replied.
In a minute my a.s.s, JT thought. ”You okay?”
”Better,” said Mitch.e.l.l, just before vomiting again.
Mitch.e.l.l never made it to the granaries; he couldn't seem to muster the strength to climb the last fifty feet. He didn't seem to care about it, either-a bad sign for someone who'd been so intent on getting up there an hour ago. JT knew the signs of heatstroke and didn't think Mitch.e.l.l was there yet, but he was dangerously close.
It was was hot this trip. He reminded himself that all trips in July were hot; but still, he had an elderly couple and an overweight girl and a man who refused to follow directions; and as they headed back to the boats, JT wondered just how hot it could get without these people going really strange on him. hot this trip. He reminded himself that all trips in July were hot; but still, he had an elderly couple and an overweight girl and a man who refused to follow directions; and as they headed back to the boats, JT wondered just how hot it could get without these people going really strange on him.
19.
Day Four Miles 5360 Whoa. Dude. What happened?” Peter asked Mitch.e.l.l.
Without answering, Mitch.e.l.l strode into the river and dove under.
”Mitch.e.l.l got a little overheated,” said JT.
”Heatstroke?” asked Evelyn anxiously.
”No,” said JT, ”but it could have been. Listen up,” he told the group. ”In case you haven't noticed, it isn't getting any cooler down here. I want you all to drink as much as you can, and then some.”
”What's heatstroke?” Sam murmured. He and the dog were lying on their sides, facing one another like spent lovers. The dog's eyes were wide open, and he was panting heavily. Every so often, Sam poured a handful of sand on one of the dog's paws, causing it to twitch.
”Heatstroke can kill you,” said Mark. ”You better listen to JT.”
”And you gotta keep your body cool,” JT said. ”Jump in the river. Dunk your clothes. I don't care. If you're hot, you're stupid.”
There were somber faces all around as they stood in line to refill their water bottles. Peter held the jug, and as he poured for people, he whispered to Amy that JT had spiked the water, and this was just a ruse to get them all drunk this afternoon so he didn't have to cook them dinner tonight. Peter didn't like it when things got too serious. Of course, he didn't like it when people like Mitch.e.l.l thought they knew more than the guides, who'd only been down the river like four hundred times between the three of them. And he didn't like it when people couldn't apologize for their errors in judgment. He thought a well-timed apology from Mitch.e.l.l would have done a lot to lessen the tension on the beach. But Mitch.e.l.l didn't want to talk to anybody.
Peter wasn't one to gossip, but he wasn't one to keep 100 percent of his thoughts to himself, either. And that afternoon in the paddle boat, he let it slip that he hoped Mitch.e.l.l would chill out. ”No pun intended,” he added.
”Did you hear he's writing a book?” Jill said.
”About what?” asked Evelyn.
”Us,” said Peter. ”Ha ha! Just kidding,” he told Mark, who looked alarmed.
Susan said, ”He told me this trip was a big disappointment to him because he wasn't able to do it in a wooden dory.”
”What's so great about wooden dories?” said Peter.
”It's more like Powell,” said Evelyn.
”And who's this Powell dude again?”
There were groans all around. But n.o.body explained.
”My problem is that he's setting a bad example,” said Jill. ”I'm trying to get the boys to do what the guides say, and then Mitch.e.l.l does exactly the opposite. Like not wearing a wet s.h.i.+rt for the hike.”
”I wonder what he's writing about,” said Amy. ”Every time I look, he's writing in one of those notebooks.”
”Or taking pictures,” said Susan, a comment that elicited more groans, and threats to throw the camera in the river.
”Come on, people,” said Abo. ”The guy simply misjudged the heat today.”
”No, he did not!” Jill exclaimed. ”He really truly thought he knew better. He did the same thing on the hike this morning! We get to the stream, and JT tells him to keep his boots on, says you can protect your boots or you can protect your feet, and what does Mitch.e.l.l do? He takes them off! 'They're two-hundred-dollar boots,' he tells JT.”
”Be glad you're not Lena,” Peter said.
”I would never let myself be bossed around like that,” Amy declared.
”Good for you, honey,” said Susan.
”Easy forward,” said Abo, and they stroked with the current.
”Who was the worst pa.s.senger you ever had?” Peter asked.
Abo chuckled.
”Come on,” said Peter.
”Fine,” said Abo. ”Are you ready for a long story? Because this is a really long story. But its a good story. This guy he had a bunch of Boy Scouts, and you know how you all got an equipment list before the trip? Well, he told his Boy Scouts it was all bunk, temperatures wouldn't drop below one hundred so forget the polypro, forget the fleece, forget the rain gear even. Then they get down here, and its monsoon season.”
”When's that?” asked Evelyn.
”Late July Every day it rains. Every day these boys get wet. Every day we're looking at eight hypothermic Eagle Scouts. We guides, we're pulling out every piece of clothing we have, just to keep these kids dry. Then we come up on Bedrock, where there's this YOOGE rock that splits the river, and you have to stay to the right because if you go left you're dead, and who knows what happened, but one of the boats misses the cut and they postage-stamp right up against the rock and these four kids disappear into the water. So! Now we have four boys with hypothermia, and when we get everyone ash.o.r.e, we tell the boys to strip down and get into sleeping bags together. At which point the scout leader goes totally apoplectic, accuses us of trying to turn his boys into f.a.gs-his word, my apologies-and when we get the sleeping bags out anyway, he takes them all and dumps them in the river so they're soaking wet and no good whatsoever.”