Taking That Step

#97 - Through Jerry’s staring eyes, darkness in a spiraling curtain circled and closed down on the light. He was slipping away.

James Ron

May 17, 2024

Welcome to Before I Forget . .

- I’m glad you are here.

Taking That Step

Jerry had planned all year for the trip to Havasu Falls. They had their permits and made travel reservations.

He drove to Las Vegas to pick up three friends who had flown in. They then drove to the Falls.

The hike from the trailhead down to the campground was eight miles plus another mile or so depending on where you wanted to camp.

It is a steep first mile down, and a steeper last mile on the return.

The stream that carved the canyon descends by degrees through the sandstone on its way to the Colorado River. A good thunderstorm can send torrents of water rushing downstream. A super bad storm can do flooding damage to Supai village and the campgrounds.

The landscape of rock, flora, and fauna appears other-worldly. Of another time. With lush oases in deep canyon shade along the running stream that cuts through the silence and echoes off the walls.

Jerry seeks to find his soul, as on all of his desert excursions.

Jerry wanted to go down to Mooney Falls, the tallest, and the fourth falls of five that lower the stream to the Colorado. It was a short distance away. He’d spend the afternoon there and be back early.

He was in better shape than the other guys. After the strenuous hike down to the camp, they wanted to rest and hang out and sightsee in the village. They also wanted to arrange for mules to carry their gear back to the hilltop on their return. Jerry opted in on that.

Jerry set out for the Falls just before noon. There would be others making the trip, so he didn’t feel alone on his hike.

Mooney Falls drops 200’ to the pool below. The only way down is “at your own risk” by a series of ladders and chains and tunnels built by miners. Many find the descent down the rock face not to their liking and turn back.

There are accidents.

Access before then was truly treacherous. “Mr. Mooney,” a prospector and the Falls’ namesake, fell to his death.

The trail zig-zagged through broken rock and scrub.

Expecting to see a joining trail and a sign to the ladders, Jerry came to a sheer drop-off that reached the bottom. The view was unexpected and stunning.

He continued on at the cliff's edge, at times a narrow path, around deep clefts in the mother rock winding in and out, a rock wall on his left and the chasm on his right.

Wrong way! he thought. No way the Park Service would lead tourists this way. So obvious now.

And then the ledge came to an end, the wall and the drop-off were one.

He was angry with himself for having missed the trail and for putting himself in a precarious situation.

He heard it first. Looking back, he saw the Falls.

The stream burst through the notch plummeting in ribbons to the blue-green pond below. People waded into the mist that swirls at the bottom.

They were a good distance away. He guessed that he overshot the trail by a couple hundred yards.

He backtracked. Off of the cliff and back on the broken rock, he wasn’t sure of the way to go.

He knew the canyon was to the south and he needed to go west. The deep broken rock and walls that blocked the sky became a maze. He was disoriented, couldn’t get his bearings.

Another cliff drop-off and narrow ledge. The Falls in view.

Ahead of him was a gnarled tree he saw when first coming in. It stood out alone, skeleton-like on the rock shelf.

Almost there!

Around a bend, the ledge narrowed still, too narrow to walk but front or back to the wall. He continued. Then the ledge ran flush to the wall about three feet before re-emerging as a broader ledge.

Taking that step would take commitment. Over space. A misstep would be his end.

And it hit him. Bad. Paralyzing. He was scared. Scared like never before. Then he broke into a shaking that almost shook him off the cliff.

Through Jerry’s staring eyes, darkness in a spiraling curtain circled and closed down on the light. He was slipping away.

But the light returned. The swoon passed.

He managed a dazed look back to begin his return. The ledge at the bend now seemed impossibly narrow. And the wall jutted out a bit at hip level. How had he come this far?

Somehow going back across that pinch point and then getting lost again in that maze was a fearful task.

He looked down and felt another wave of dizziness welling up. He pressed his back against the wall in preparation. He wanted to sit but didn’t have enough room.

Jerry had rock climbed before and wasn’t afraid of heights. He was now. This was different. He could see the danger he was in. And how easily he had put himself in it.

His brain wrestled with his emotions. Clarity and despair fought each other.

To step across that void, he would have to have a well-placed footfall and a smooth transition on landing, and he wasn’t convinced that would happen. No do-overs.

He wanted to turn around to face the wall for a better step and balance. Too little room.

He knew he could just retrace his steps and step back across the narrowed ledge. Afterall, he’d already done it. Didn’t give it a thought.

But now, he was scared to move. It was so narrow. And beyond was the open maw of the maze.

He felt boxed in. Doubt clouded every thought, and panic was barely kept at bay. The low hum of the Falls now sounded loud and menacing. If it would only stop, he could think clearly.

He was going to die.

Remorse set in. There were things undone, things unsaid, wrongs unrighted, dreams unchased. A family without a loved one. He was but midway through life.

He called out for help every few minutes, feeling embarrassed in doing so. He knew people were nearby, could they hear him over the sound of the falls or distance?

His friends would be expecting his return, but it would be dark before they became concerned.

Would they find him? If he fell? Would the vultures clue them in?

He was tired of standing. His legs ached.

He’d forgotten to drink water. Never gave it a thought. He downed two of the three pints in his belt pack and ate two of the three energy bars he carried. He felt better immediately.

He didn’t look down. It helped.

Jerry’s world was the gnarled tree up ahead, the rock wall at his back, the narrow ledge and maze behind. And the blue sky above.

The sun had moved towards afternoon and cast its first cooling shadows on the cliff.

He thought his best option was to return the way he came. Just get by that jut of rock above the narrowest couple feet of ledge and pay closest attention to heading west and north through the maze.

He screwed up his courage, shuffled back to the pinch point and took a step.

A group of hikers had returned to the campground saying they heard calls for help but couldn’t tell where they were coming from except from above. Others said they came from the rock outcrop off the trail beyond the ladders.

One of Jerry’s friends took off to alert the Park Officials. The other two wanted to head for the Falls but dark was coming on and thought better of it.

By dark, rescue personnel had gathered at their campsite.

They started out for the Falls, their red and white lights a lightshow of flashlights beaming off the trail through the shadows into the scrub and rock.

Out of the dark a lone hiker appeared on the trail and all the flashlights focused on him.

It was Jerry. Shaking and cold. Pale and wild-eyed in the light.