Lost Canyon

by Nina Revoyr

  “Look,” Todd said, “she didn’t do anything to protect A.J. last night, and she just ran miles in the dark to catch up with us. I think it’s pretty clear she wants to be with us. Let’s just keep going. I think it’s going to be okay.”

  “Whatever,” Oscar said, sick of talking about it. “While we’re stopped, though, should we figure out where we’re going? We seem to be veering right again. When should we start to cut across?”

  They all looked around to get their bearings. They couldn’t see the big range anymore, since it was hidden behind the ridge, but from where they stood, it would now be to the left.

  “The sun’s rising from that way,” Gwen noted, pointing back up to the top of the ridge.

  “If that’s east,” Todd said, “then that’s where we should go.”

  They were only about a hundred vertical feet from the top, and the slope did not look steep.

  “I think we can just head up this way,” Oscar said, “instead of backtracking to where the trail left the top.”

  “All right, let’s go,” Tracy said. She stepped off the trail, and the others all followed. They fanned out and climbed up in a parallel line. Even though the slope was gentle, the ground wasn’t solid; the small pebbles and dirt gave way beneath their feet, and the others used their poles to steady themselves. With each step forward Oscar lost half a step; the effect was like going up a down escalator. The dog ran up the slope in short energetic bursts; she reached the top quickly and then came back down again, sliding, dislodging rocks and dirt, but excited, encouraging them forward. Once, twice, Oscar slipped and reached out with one hand to stabilize himself. The rocks felt cool to his touch.

  It took about ten minutes to reach the top, and when he did, Tracy and Todd were already there. Gwen arrived a couple of minutes after Oscar, and they all bent over, catching their breath, while the dog weaved through them, jumping up to give them whiskery kisses.

  “That was harder than it looked,” Gwen said.

  “Everything has been hard out here,” Oscar replied. Then he looked up. The big range they’d seen earlier was straight in front of them now. The sun was just coming over it, sharpening its lines against the sky. In the growing light they could see a valley, a big, winding chute they’d have to make their way through, with broad green meadows and still blue lakes, and stretches of woods between them. The jagged peaks to the east cast long shadows across the landscape and sent concentrated rays of light toward the ground. All of this was framed by more peaks on either side of the valley, which Oscar saw, as the sky lightened, were capped with snow. The sight was breathtaking. And even as he knew they had to get through the valley and over the mountains, his heart rose in his chest. This was the High Sierra, rugged and pristine. This was really something.

  “Wow,” Gwen said.

  “Wow is right,” Oscar said. “Where are we?”

  “Somewhere in the wilderness,” Tracy said. “Exactly where, I don’t know.”

  “That’s a hell of a lot of land to get across,” Todd said. “How far did you say it was, Tracy?”

  “Well, we just need to get through the valley and over that range. We should be able to do it in a day.”

  “You might be able to,” said Gwen. “Tracy, that’s really far. And I don’t know about you guys, but I’m exhausted.”

  “All right, maybe a day and a half, maybe two,” Tracy allowed. “But that’s it, that range is what we have to cross. And the Owens Valley is right on the other side.”

  “You make it sound easy,” Oscar said. “But those peaks are pretty big. And there’s snow.”

  “I’m telling you guys, we can get over them. There are a bunch of passes, and it shouldn’t be hard to find a way across.”

  Todd was holding his poles in one hand, resting the rifle on the ground with the other. Oscar turned to him now, putting aside his annoyance because Todd’s evenness, his calm, gave him comfort. “What do you think, Todd?”

  He was quiet for a moment before he answered. “I’ve been trying to pick out a route. One that also provides some cover. I think we head down this way.” Todd pointed toward the left. “Hug the canyon wall and get down to those woods. Once we’re in them, no one can see us. We can hike through those and then toward that meadow, where there are some boulders to hide behind if we need to. There are a couple of lakes for water, which is good. And once we get down, we’ll have a better sense of what route to take over that range. It seems like there’s a bit of a saddle there, between those peaks to the left. That actually looks pretty passable, and there’s not much snow. Provided we can find a way up to it.”

  This sounded good to Oscar—thought out and logical. Gwen turned to Tracy and asked, “What do you think?”

  “It’s as good a plan as any,” she answered, shrugging.

  “It’s the only plan we’ve got,” Oscar said. He hoped that Tracy wouldn’t try to argue, and she didn’t. They all looked at each other, as if psyching each other up.

  “Well, here goes nothing,” Todd said. And then he slung the rifle back over his shoulder and put his hands through the straps of his poles.

  Oscar watched him go over the edge. Then, with a deep breath and quick silent prayer, he took his first step onto uncharted earth.

  Chapter Twelve

  Todd

  They sidestepped down the slope, carefully at first, but then with bigger strides, using the natural steps formed by the slabs of rock. Above them the sky had turned a silvery blue. The peaks on either side of the valley were lit with brilliant light. Even in his state of exhaustion and worry, Todd couldn’t help but notice the beauty.

  It took more than an hour to reach the first stand of trees, and once they were safely under its cover, they stopped and put down their packs. After carefully leaning the rifle against a boulder, Todd took off his shoes and shook out some pebbles. His toes looked and felt like they’d been pounded by a meat cleaver. His calf stung where he’d been scratched by a branch. Gwen sat down against a tree, crossed her arms on her knees, and rested her head against them. The dog came over and licked her hand and Gwen petted her without glancing up.

  Tracy, still standing, tilted her head back and finished off what was left in her Nalgene bottle. “We’re going to need water.”

  “Yeah, I’m almost out too,” Oscar said.

  “There’s a couple of lakes farther on,” Todd said. “We can refill there. Or maybe we’ll cross a stream before then.”

  “Let’s stay here for a minute.” This was from Gwen, who still hadn’t lifted her head.

  They all looked at her. “We need to keep moving,” Todd said.

  “I need to rest, you guys.” And now she looked up. The early-morning light revealed how tired she was—deep hollows had formed beneath her eyes, her skin looked gray, and wisps of hair had come loose from her ponytail. “We haven’t slept since the night before last, and haven’t had a meal since lunchtime yesterday. I’m exhausted, and I need to eat.”

  Todd leaned toward her. Of all of them, she was the least suited for this trip to begin with, let alone for what they had to do now. And she’d seemed even more shaken than the rest of them by their encounters with José and A.J. But he couldn’t let himself think about that now. They had many miles to go, a formidable range to cross. He wasn’t entirely sure she’d be able to make it. “Gwen, look, we’re all tired. But we can’t stop yet. We may have someone behind us, we may have two guys behind us. And we need to open up some distance between us and them. If we wait, we’ll be an easy target for someone with a high-powered rifle. But if we get going, we’ll have a better chance. Once we get farther into the valley, we can stop for a rest.”

  Gwen did not acknowledge his words; she stared straight ahead as if no one had spoken.

  “He’s right, Gwen,” Tracy said gently. “We need to keep going. Let’s do this next stretch and then we can stop to rest. Okay?”

  Todd was anxious to get moving—not only out of fear, but also because, although he woul
dn’t admit it, he knew exactly how Gwen felt. Now that he was sitting and had his shoes off, he couldn’t imagine getting up again. His muscles were all tightening up; his left knee had gotten sore. He felt the lure of sleep; it was like the pull of the abyss, deadly, irresistible. He fought this and said, “We can do this, Gwen. We can go a little farther.”

  Gwen still did not speak. The dog, who’d been sitting beside her, gave her a sly kiss on the leg. “All right,” she said finally. “But just give me a minute to deal with my feet.” She quickly took off one shoe, revealing a swollen heel and big toe, cut and applied some Moleskin. She retied the shoe and stood back up. Todd put his socks and shoes on too.

  “Good job, Gwen,” Tracy said. She stripped off her jacket and stuffed it into her pack. Then she walked off in the direction they’d been heading, and the others fell in behind her.

  They marched on without talking. The ground was nearly level; they were moving through the bottom of the valley. A bright blue Steller’s jay shot through a cluster of trees, turning sideways and touching each trunk lightly with its feet, like a skier running a slalom course. They passed a tree with a giant mushroom growing out of its side, like a white, fleshy ear turned downward to hear messages from the ground. Then Todd stopped to point out a clump of coarse black hair, stuck on the side of a tree.

  “Look,” he said. “A bear used this tree to scratch his back.”

  Oscar squinted at the hair, and shivered. “Wow, he must have been a big one.”

  “Is there any other kind?” Gwen said. “Let’s keep going.”

  They kept walking, a bit faster, and then suddenly they were out of the woods. It was lighter now, almost seven a.m. The peaks on either side of them were lit orange and gold in the early-morning sun. They were flanked by huge boulder fields, amazingly white, like giant snowballs that had rolled downhill. Beyond them, at the end of the valley, massive spires and sharp pinnacles with sheets of snow draped between them extended thousands of feet into the sky. Todd’s heart lifted, despite everything. He’d never seen such grandeur. He looked again at the corridor between the turrets and pinnacles, which framed the valley all the way to its end. It was like strolling down an avenue lined with cathedrals. It was like walking into the arms of God.

  Directly in front of them was a basin they had seen from the top. But what, from that vantage point, had looked like a small break in the trees now revealed itself to be a bigger open space. It was probably a mile across, maybe more—the land was uneven, patches of green and brown interspersed with slabs of granite. In the middle of it all was the lake. A small stream fed into it and then flowed out the other side. This in turn, Todd knew, would eventually lead to other water, one of the countless rivers that rose up in California and flowed all the way to the sea.

  “Well, there’s our water,” he said.

  “Yeah, good,” Gwen said. “But look at those mountains.”

  Now Todd looked up ahead of them and saw why Gwen was worried. He’d been so focused on the beauty around him that he hadn’t thought about what awaited when they got to the valley’s end. From the ridge, the peaks to the east had looked formidable but distant. From here, he could see the full scope of them. The range they had to cross was massive, a jagged spine of sharp barren peaks, easily over 13,000 feet. But he was still overcome by a sense of awe, and a sudden understanding of the land. The western Sierra built gradually, with gentle foothills and lush valleys and hospitable forests. Now they were approaching the starker eastern Sierra, where one plate of the earth had pushed under another and thrust the mountains into the sky.

  “How are we supposed to get over those?” Oscar asked, sounding disheartened.

  “We can totally do it,” Tracy insisted.

  Oscar looked uncertain, even angry. “I don’t know, Tracy. I think we’re in deep shit.”

  “We can do it,” Todd agreed. He was examining the peaks closely. “There’s that shoulder I saw before, between the two peaks. It looks lower than the rest of the range.” He paused. “There’s a pass way to the right too, but that looks farther away. I’m thinking left. That’s probably our best bet.”

  But from the valley floor this seemed very high, and terribly far away. Todd’s confidence snagged, began to falter—but he fought this and looked squarely at the others. “Let’s go,” he said. “We need to keep moving.”

  He expected some protest from Tracy, but she said, “Sounds good. Let’s do it.” Then: “But I’m thinking you should ditch your jacket, Gwen.”

  Gwen turned to her. “Why?” She looked down at her fleece, which was fuschia. “Oh.”

  “Do you want mine?” Todd asked.

  “No thanks. Hopefully my shirt will be enough.”

  They stepped away from the cover of trees and out into the open, and Todd flinched involuntarily, expecting a shot. Nothing came. They picked their way over the soft springy earth, passing boulders as big as trucks. With each step they could see more of the slope they’d descended that morning; it was bathed in brilliant light. There was no movement, and Todd was relieved.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone’s up there,” Gwen said, as if reading his mind.

  They all paused and looked back. “You’re right,” Tracy said. “Well, let’s keep moving before someone is.”

  They walked on, the dog darting in front of them, charging up boulders to survey the land, sprinting ahead of them and then coming back. Her nose took in all of the interesting scents; she scratched the ground gingerly and peed on whatever she found. Finally she ran ahead and kept on running, disappearing over a rise. When they gained it, they saw where she was: at the edge of the first lake they’d seen from above, looking back at them, as if to say, Here it is! She tried to announce it but again the weird muffled bark; her mouth moved but they heard no sound. Awful as her muteness was, Todd was glad for it now—a bark here could be heard for miles around.

  They scrambled down a clump of boulders and onto the flat land around the shore. As they filled up their bottles, they realized they’d left their water purifier behind.

  “We’ll need to boil the water,” Todd said.

  “It’ll be fine,” Tracy countered. “It looks totally untouched back here. Besides, what do you think the explorers did back in the 1860s? Or the Indians? You think they all had filters or SteriPENs?”

  “This isn’t 1860. There’s a lot more people in these mountains. Plus, there’s all the animals.”

  “Okay, but do you really want to take the time to set up the stove?”

  Todd saw the logic in this. No point in worrying about bacteria if they were going to get shot trying to boil it away. “You’re right,” he said, and drank from his bottle. The water was so refreshing it brought tears to his eyes. He drank an entire thirty-two-ounce bottle, refilled it, and this time sipped more slowly. It was warmer today, and humid. The air was thinner too, and he understood that his slight light-headedness was not only exhaustion, but lack of oxygen. He noticed how pretty the lake was, crystalline blue, with the huge peaks set behind it. If they were still on vacation, if they were here to relax, they would have stopped at a place like this, swam and rested and enjoyed a leisurely meal, stretched out on the rocks in the sun.

  But within five minutes they were moving again, around the lake’s shore to the left. The sun was high enough now that it was glinting off the water. Something broke the surface and gained the air, splashing down again: a fish. How good it would be to catch it and cook it, he thought. His stomach rumbled with hunger.

  On the other side of the lake they climbed up onto another flat area. More peaks were starting to come out of the shadows and reveal themselves, like stage actors stepping into the light. Now they could see the lush green of the land, of the small meadow they were approaching. Springing from the green were wildflowers, purple and yellow and red, in shades so full and pure it was as if the rest of the world’s color was muted. He saw a cluster of lupine, not fully in bloom, each tubelike flower bright purple on top but stil
l green at the bottom; they looked like caterpillars emerging from their cocoons. He shook his head at the strangeness of it all. This was a kind of beauty that few people ever saw. And at any moment he could be shot, he could be dead.

  “What’s that?” Gwen asked suddenly, pointing to the ground with her pole.

  Todd looked down at a huge pile of scat, dark brown and loose, as big as a pile of pine cones. Interspersed in it were bits of grass, and red berries, which seemed to have passed through the creature whole. “That,” he said, “would be bear scat.”

  Tracy nodded. “We’re not the only ones who needed water.”

  The muscles in Gwen’s jaws tightened, and even Todd felt a twinge of nerves. The bear hair on the tree could have been left at any time. This scat, though, suggested a bear was still close by. He glanced over at Tracy to make sure the bear spray was still clipped to her belt.

  “How recent?” Gwen asked.

  Tracy bent over and examined it. “It’s not super fresh, but it’s not old, either. I’d say it’s from within the last twelve hours.”

  “Don’t worry,” Todd said, sounding more confident than he felt. “He’s likely to avoid us. We’re scarier to him than he is to us.”

  “I don’t know, man,” said Oscar. “You guys keep saying that, but there were those killings just this year, in Yellowstone.”

  “Those were grizzly bears,” Todd said, echoing Tracy’s reassurance of earlier. “Not black bears. We don’t have grizzlies in California.”

  “And if they do come around,” Tracy added, patting the gun tucked into her belt, “we can always take care of them.”

  “There’s no need for that,” Todd said. Why did she have to be like this? He was so angry at Tracy, and at himself, for allowing her to convince them to take an unused trail. For letting himself get carried away by someone else’s madness. “Besides, we don’t need to be shooting any guns. That’ll lead whoever’s out here straight to us.”