Ancient Echoes

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Idaho

“We can move anytime,” Big Kyle Barnes announced. The guides pulled the orange rafts away from bushes of red-tinged sumac and bulrushes, and shoved them into the water. “Three students and one teacher in each raft should work.”

Rempart scowled at the ignorant guide's mistaken impression of Melisse's position, then turned to his assistant with a smile. “I can scarcely believe our good fortune at finding these rafts. I can taste success already. If this works out, Melisse, it'll make big news when we publish the find. You may be able to publish it with me. We'll see how things go,” he announced with all the arrogance of a full professor holding a graduate student’s future in the palm of his hand.

“I appreciate that, Professor.” As she spoke, Melisse didn’t look at Rempart, but watched Big Kyle and Skinny Buck check over the rafts.

“You look nervous,” Rempart said. “Didn’t you grow up in Montana? You should know about rafting. Besides, the guides said this is a creek. It’s nothing to worry about.”

She eyed the clear waters. “This so-called creek is already wide and we don’t know how much wider it’ll become downstream. We’re close to the Salmon River. If we get on it, this little joyride will turn treacherous very quickly.”

“You must learn to be adventurous, Melisse!” Rempart said with a laugh. “They said nothing about the Salmon. Let’s get going.”

Melisse knew much more about the Salmon River than Rempart ever imagined. It was known as “the river of no return” for a reason. It meandered from its source near Sun Valley, northeast toward Montana and the Bitterroot Mountains. There, it angled sharply westward and began a wild, tumultuous 420 mile journey that slashed directly across the entire width and heart of Idaho until it reached the confluence with the Snake River near the Oregon border. In the course of its fierce journey, the Salmon River forged a canyon deeper than Arizona's Grand Canyon with looming unscalable walls surrounded by dark, impenetrable forests.

The first white men known to attempt to navigate it were mountain men, four trappers for the Hudson’s Bay Company in 1832. Two drowned and the other two lost their canoe and traveled overland, arriving three months later, naked, at Fort Nez Perce.

Forty years later, the Northern Pacific Railroad Company wanted a route from Montana across Idaho to Washington State and sent a party of twenty-five men and four boats under the direction of the railroad's chief engineer to survey the river. The group set out from Salmon City in July 1872, and didn't reach the Snake River until November. The engineer’s summary of the trip concluded, “This survey down the Salmon River may, I think, be regarded as the most difficult instrumental survey ever made in the United States.”

The railroad selected a different route, bypassing Central Idaho altogether.

To this day, the area remains a roadless, fiercely impassable no-man's-land in the heart of Idaho.

Now, Rempart and the guides gathered together the students, who were more interested in whining about having no cell service and being unable to text their friends than in what was going on around them, and ordered them into the rafts. The voluptuous Brandi, chubby Ted, and nerdy Vince climbed into one raft. Rempart joined them, while Melisse got into the second with scholarly Rachel, Devlin-the-jock, and his shadow, Brian. Melisse’s nerves were tense. The Salmon River swallowed up proficient rafters and kayakers, even guides, with frightening regularity. Some said the Indians called it the river of no return because so many men who set off down it were never seen again.

The day grew chilly, so everyone put on their jackets and donned life preservers. They strapped their backpacks onto the raft to keep from losing them if the vessel overturned. Big Kyle took charge of Melisse’s raft. She felt him ogling her as she settled into place and glared at him. He grinned, and then openly leered at Brandi in the other raft as she struggled to draw the sides of her life jacket together over her generous breasts.

Big Kyle gave everyone a quick lesson on rafting. “Listen up! If you get dumped into the water, lay on your back, feet downstream. Push off any rocks that come close, use your arms to paddle, and don’t stand up until you can sit on the bottom of the creek and still keep your head out of the water. The worst thing you can do is try to stand where the water’s deep and get your foot stuck in the rocks. It’s a death sentence. And hang onto your paddle—it’ll help others pull you to safety.”

“That’s right,” Skinny Buck contributed.

“We’re the captains,” Big Kyle said. “When we say ‘all forward,’ you paddle. At ‘all rest,’ you stop. And at ‘all back,’ you back-paddle. Can your brains keep that straight?”

The students nodded.

Big Kyle set out first, pushing the raft toward the center of the creek. The swift current took hold and pulled with a sense of unstoppable momentum. Soon, the small beach disappeared. Creek banks, covered with vines and rock, dropped steeply to the water.

A red-tailed hawk lifted from a nearby tree with one slow powerful flap of the wings, then circled over the water before disappearing from view. Dark green foliage grew thick along the banks but beyond it, arid grassland lay punctuated by pines. The view, barren and harsh but beautiful in its desolation, stretched for miles.

They floated peacefully for a few minutes, then heard a churning sound up ahead. Big Kyle assured them that the rapids they were approaching were so weak and mild they scarcely deserved the name. Nonetheless, they were strong enough that Devlin and Brian whooped with excitement as the raft plunged headlong through the turbulence.

The raft coasted out the other side and the creek grew tame again. A doe raised her head, still chewing, then loped away, her white-tipped tail held high. Ahead, dead trees that had swept downstream were wedged between boulders, their roots and branches reaching out over the water. The debris split the creek in two.

“Lean left,” Big Kyle shouted. “Left, left, left!” The raft buckled and swerved uncontrollably, then plunged through a clear chute of water, zipping unscathed by the tentacle-like brush. Nervous laughter rippled through the raft as everyone took deep breaths once more.

The creek widened and a beam of sunlight found its way through the pines to brighten a stretch of lavender covered banks. In the distance, craggy mountaintops touched a clear blue sky.

Melisse turned to look back. The other raft followed peacefully behind them.

Only after they drifted awhile did she begin to relax. She didn't trust these men, but so far, they hadn't lied. Ninety minutes, Big Kyle had said. She checked her watch. Only twenty minutes had passed.

The sheltered creek forked, and the raft floated onto a much wider body of water. She looked around and then sat bolt upright. The banks were far apart, and the water cold, deep, and fast. “We’re on the Salmon!” she shouted, her voice tight, harsh.

“Just for a little while, lovely lady.” Big Kyle gave her a broad smile and wink. “Then we turn off and paddle upstream to your pillars. Don't you worry none, sweetie. I won't let anything happen to you.”

Melisse ignored him.

They entered a gorge. Sheer rock rose steeply above the river on both sides. Far overhead whitish gray lichen and eddy moss marked how high the water rose in spring when snow run-off reached its peak. Even though it was fall, the frigid water remained deep and treacherous. They could do nothing but hold on and hope they weren’t tossed overboard.

The black granite walls of the gorge continued to narrow as the river carved its lonely course. The sun no longer reached them. No one spoke and Big Kyle's eyes took on a strange glint.

Melisse searched the banks for a safe landing point, but found none. The air had something different about it. Something that chilled her to the bone.

A strong current caught hold of the raft and carried it forward ever faster. The sound of thunder rumbled up ahead, but instead of stopping, the oddly familiar sound continued. Melisse looked downstream and saw nothing. Then she realized what she heard.

They were heading straight toward a waterfall.

“Beach this raft!” Melisse ordered.

Big Kyle glanced fiercely at her. “Where?”

The raft sped up. As the students realized what was happening, their screams mixed with Big Kyle’s laughter as the raft plowed over the edge.

Half its length froze in mid-air before it tilted and nose-dived several feet into a hollow curve of water. A sheet of freezing water broke over them.

The raft didn’t flip, but shot straight ahead. The river turned, but the raft headed toward the rocky canyon walls. The terrified rafters tried to paddle away from the deadly rock. Even Big Kyle’s laughter ceased as his arms and shoulders bunched and strained to maneuver the raft sideways. They missed the granite by mere inches.

The river angled steeply downward. Its path cut one sharp curve after the other through the empty wilderness, causing the raft to buck, shimmy, and pick up more speed. Waves violently rocked them and showered them with spray. Kyle shouted orders, but the students were too petrified to do anything but hold on as the raft careened forward like a thing possessed.

Vertical granite faces lined the river banks. No safe landing existed.

Melisse peered over her shoulder. She no longer saw the other raft.

Around a bend, the river formed an eddy shaped like a huge, spinning bowl. Unable to avoid it, they pitched headlong into the abyss. The raft shot straight across to the wall of water on the far side. Its bow rose vertically up the side of the bowl and then flipped upside down.

Melisse sank deep. Despite the life jacket, the ice cold water seemed determined to hold her under. She somersaulted, helpless in the strong, swirling current. Fury filled her for not acting on her instincts, for doing nothing to save herself and the others from this disaster. Her lungs burned, but she wouldn't give in to the urge to breathe.

Darkness overtook her, her lungs about to burst, when the water churned her up and spat her into the air. Coughing and sputtering, gasping gratefully for air, a frenzied froth surrounded her. She turned in a circle, searching for the others. She saw Rachel, flailing wildly. Melisse grabbed her and held her head up as Rachel coughed and spewed water from her nose and mouth. Melisse gave Rachel's lifejacket a strong push in the direction of a small rock-filled bank. Rachel swam toward it. Melisse saw Devlin and Brian's heads bobbing as well as Big Kyle's. He held the tow rope for the raft.

Melisse’s limbs throbbed from the icy water. She swam through her pain to the bank, crawled onto the gritty rocks, then struggled to sit up and look out onto the river.

Skinny Buck Jewell must have seen what had transpired because he amazingly avoided the eddy and steered toward the bank. He let Rempart and the rest of the students off to help their companions and then headed for Big Kyle to assist him in righting his raft. Devlin and Brian left the two experts to secure the rafts and swam toward the bank.

The students and teacher huddled together, shaken, wet, and freezing cold, all the while congratulating each other that they made it out alive and were on dry land. Then they looked out at the water.

The two guides, alone in the rafts, paddled rapidly downstream.