Canyon Shoes

I know I've been a terrible blogger. There are all kinds of stories I could tell about things that happened between Lake Havasu City and remote Utah, but I will save those stories for the book. (I've got around 900 single-spaced pages detailing these last four years. Now that I'm settled in a spot, perhaps it's time to winnow out the chaff and see if there's actually a story in all those pages.)

For now, I want to tell a different story, not of something that happened to me but something observed.

My current seasonal-maybe-permanent job is a hotel/property manager position in remote Utah. I've got great bosses (the owners), and I enjoy the work. In addition, I get to run the gift shop, which dovetails with a reoccurring dream I had from about 1995 - 2013. Maybe I'll discuss that later on this blog or in the book. Or maybe I won't discuss it at all. Maybe it's just meant for me. Either way....

I sat behind the tall lobby desk last night designing the new sign for our Old West postcards made from authentic historic photographs. The old sign had yellowed and peeled around the edges. In addition, the postcard price still reflected a price set in the late 90s. My boss said it was time to update that, too.

In the midst of formatting the copy on sign, the phone rang. I announced the name of the hotel and added, "This is Pyra. How can I help..."

"You have to listen to me. We are trapped in a canyon," the frantic voice of a man demanded. "We are staying in your hotel. Room 3. We are..."

His voice faded.

"Hello? Hello?" I called into the phone, abandoning my formatting and looking outside. The mesa-mountain across the street had already shadowed as the sun withdrew itself, sinking toward the horizon.

"Can you hear me now?" he ask-demanded.

"Yes, I can hear you. Stay in one place."

"Okay. You have to write this down. My name is _____. We are staying at your hotel, but we are lost in a slot canyon. I have contacted Search & Rescue. They said they would be here forty-five minutes ago. I want you to stay by the phone because I'm worried about what will happen when they show up. They were rather mean to us on the phone. Stay by the phone."

I looked at the clock. It was almost eight. In another half hour I could hang the back-at-730 sign and call it a night. Nevertheless, the man sounded scared. It was the first time I've ever heard real terror in a person's voice. "I'll be available," I said calmly. "What canyon are you in?"

"The Egypt Three."

I wrote down this information.

"I don't understand what's taking them so long to find us. My wife is scared. They should be here by now. We gave them our coordinates."

"Just sit still. Stay in one place," I advised, recalling the first time I'd gotten lost in a thick forest of a northeast Ohio Metropark when I was seventeen. Unsure of how to find my friend or my car, I ran through the forest, thinking I would spot something familiar. Those were the days before we were so connected to cellular technology. I didn't want him to make the same mistake, particularly since Search & Rescue had his coordinates. "You've got to remain calm and stay where you are. You've got cell service and you've given them your location. Conserve your phone battery. Call when they arrive."

When we got off the phone I called the sheriff. I told them of the situation and explained they were guests at our hotel.

"Yes, we're on it. They've already called us at least a dozen times," the man on the other end said with annoyance.

"I'm sure they have. He sounded pretty freaked out."

The sheriff assured me they were on it, and I let it go.

About half an hour later, the hiker called the hotel. "It's getting dark," he said. A layer of panic had crept back into his voice. "Also, we had to move, so I'm going to give you our new coordinates. Do you have a pen?"

"I've got one in my hand. Go ahead."

He provided his GPS numbers, and I carefully wrote them down.

"It's getting dark," he repeated as I looked through the window toward the mesa-mountain, which had turned the deep blue-grey of a mountain going to sleep. "They should have been here by now."

"Just stay where you are and listen for Search & Rescue. Watch for their flashlights, too."

We got off the phone, and I called the sheriff again with the coordinates."

"We've already got the coordinates," he replied. "And we've found their vehicle."

"Do you want these numbers in case they've moved? That way you can see what direction he's headed."

"Sure. Go ahead," he said.

After getting off the phone with the sheriff, I called the hiker back. "Hey," I began. "I just spoke to the sheriff, and they've located your car. It's really important you stay put because they are in the area."

"It's getting dark," the hiker said, summoning that primal fear of the unknown monsters that lurk in darkness.

"Just sit tight. Huddle for warmth if you have to."

At eight-thirty, I closed up the lobby and tried to get ready for bed.

Around nine-thirty, I asked my church family in New Mexico to pray for the lost hikers.

The next morning I peeked outside my door. Two pairs of shoes sat in front of Room 3. I didn't remember seeing the shoes there yesterday after dinner while walking to and from the laundry room. I took it as a good sign and felt confident they'd made it out safely.

When I took Buena out for her walk, we passed the shoes. Red sand lay thickly scattered around the soles. Yep. They were safe.

Within an hour of check-out, the lost woman stopped by the office. She was in her mid 50s, tall, and attractive. For someone who'd almost spent the night in a canyon, she didn't seem the least ruffled. "Thanks for all your help. We went into the Egypt Three but didn't realize the return path was through the desert. It wasn't well marked, and we got lost. We called Search & Rescue. They told us to drop down into the canyon and go out the way we came in. Only....when we arrived at a fork in the canyon, we realized we must have dropped down into the wrong canyon. There was no fork in the canyon we were first in." Her hands fluttered at her throat as she adjusted her white knit top.

"What time did they get you out?" I asked.

"My phone had died, but the best we could tell it was around ten o'clock. We didn't get back to the hotel until around two in the morning. There was one point where they had to physically pull us up and out. I could have climbed it if I hadn't been so dehydrated and exhausted. My partner said there was no way he was climbing up and out the way they wanted us to, so I turned around and sad, 'I'm going with them. You can sleep down in the canyon if you want.' This whole thing has taught me to be better prepared for hiking. I should have had more water. We figured it was a two-hour hike. We started at two, so we should have been back by four. Next time I'll know to bring water and lip balm. My lips were so chapped they hurt."

I told her I was glad to hear there would be a next time. "When you get thrown off the horse, you get back on and ride," I added, trying to throw a little western wisdom into her adventure. "Just think...you'll have a great story to tell once you get back."

"Yeah....but it's not exactly one I was hoping to tell."