The Green Room

Sparkling sunbursts blink up through the quiet pool from somewhere deep. Curious how the water glows green, not turquoise like the rest of Havasu creek. The cave’s roof is maybe a bit bigger than an overturned bathtub, hanging with razor-sharp warts of travertine.

Plink, plink… The soft dripping sound contrasts with just moments ago, swimming like mad underwater with the muted roar from the falls in my ears, searching for air with my extended hand. When swimming in and up, it’s black as night. The light only appears once you’re in the pocket, kinda like having the perfect run in a big rapid. As Bronco used to say; “If you’re not a bit anxious, you don’t appreciate the situation.”

I always promise myself I’m going to bring a pair of swim goggles next trip, but I never do. I catch my breath, turn around and there it is; the glowing emerald nectar, pulsing with flashes of sunlight. Even better because I had to curb my jitters and make it happen, like whooping in the tailwaves after a nervous scout above Lava.

I’ve been here many times, but each time it blows me away. Which is why I keep coming back despite the scary setup; neck-deep at the base of Beaver Falls, squinting the spray out of my eyes in a tiny eddy between powerful runnels, grasping the travertine so as not to get swept away into the deep, stunning pool.

I have no idea how I got myself into this fix. Today was not a day I was planning to hike up here. It’s monsoon season, and having met with the relentless power of Havasu during the 1984 flash flood, I wasn’t even going to go past the Big Kid’s pool. But Tina, a fourteen-year-old client who came with her parents, overheard one of the guides talking about the Green Room last night and just had to do it. None of our crew was keen, but after some bugging I figured what the heck, she wants it bad, why not.

I’m über cautious nowadays if there’s the slightest chance of a flash. Some of my pards would say paranoid, giving me the stink-eye and offering to take the peeps further up-canyon themselves. But really, once you’ve seen the Wrath Of God sweeping everything in its path, beating the walls like a deafening drum, tumbling massive trees in its fury whilst you’re running like mad for higher ground, it kinda sticks with you.

Might as well make the best of it. Part of me is smiling inside, enjoying the feel of the tiny, tinkling cave my upper body just fits into, being careful not to hit my noggin on the travertine stalactites hanging inches above. At the same time I’m gazing down into the greenish glow of the pool, waiting for Tina’s shadow to appear so I can help her avoid those same lumps of rock.

And there she is, a dark swirling underwater, then unexpectedly her shadow disappears and all is calm again. I know what that means. She tried it, freaked, and bailed. Been there, done that.

I take a deep breath, bloop underwater, pushing myself down and away by hand-crawling under the cone-shaped underwater dome, swimming downwards as it brightens a bit, then further past the bubbles where the waterfall hits the surface and finally up for air.

I can see her legs dangling above me as I swim, pretty much right where I left her hanging onto the wall between shafts of waterfall so she could gather herself.

“ Hey, what’s up? You okay?”

She turns towards me, scowling in frustration.

“I couldn’t see, it was dark. I got scared.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s okay. You gave it your best shot. It’s actually really pretty right here, no need to go into the cave at all.”

“NO! I want to go in! I can do it!!”

This is as unsurprising as it is unwelcome. I was looking for an out. No such luck.

“Ok, let’s try one more time then, eh?”

So I explain once more how she needs to take a few deep breaths as she bobs up and down. When she’s ready, she then needs to push herself down using her momentum and keep swimming downwards while testing the wall with one of her hands until she feels the wall curve up and away. I emphasize how at this point she needs to go real slow and be careful of her head ‘cause it’s dark and those stalactites are super sharp. Then she should work her way up and in, trusting that I’ll be there. I’ll see her coming and pull her into the Green Room.

She’s shaking her head yes, but her eyes tell a different story. Oh well, one more try and then I’ll call it quits myself. I’m starting to shiver from being in the cold water too long. I glance up at my trip guest, cousin Albert, standing in his goofy, baggy underwear under the shade of that big, beautiful cottonwood tree on the island a dozen yards away. A city boy like I once was, he hadn’t put it together that he’d need swim shorts on a river trip. I smile, he waves, I dunk under for another shot at it.

This time I clunk my head as I surface in the cave, and “Ow! Goddamit!” is swallowed in dullness. I pat my head and my hand comes back bloody.

And there I wait, shivering, wondering why I even went along with Tina’s youthful plea after she nearly drowned me in that wave in tiny Salt Creek rapid above Granite. She was in my paddleboat, in the stern on the right, me on the left where the world is right and good. As usual I called out “Hey guys, there’s a big wave coming up. We don’t have to hit it, but it’s fun, plus good practice if you want.” It was a hot day, everyone was psyched to be in the gorge; Granite then Hermit then Crystal then all the Jewels lined up for a great day on the best damn river trip on earth.

Of course everyone yelled “Yeeehaw!”, and we hit it just as it broke on us. Which might have been no big deal, only Tina launched across the stern and tackled me clean overboard. She stayed in the boat.

It was the kind of surprise where I didn’t quite get a full breath, and I went real deep. The lights went out and I was swirling and tumbling, trapped in a whirlpool, my eardrums feeling the pressure increase. I couldn’t even tell which way was up. I tried all the tricks; curled up in a ball. Nope. Stretched my arms out far and spread my legs. No go. Tried to swim out. Not a hope. Back into a ball. I repeated that cycle maybe three times, which should tell you how long I was under. At the end there, I figured that’s it, I’m gonna take in a lungfull of water. How embarrassing to drown in such a nothing rapid went through my mind as I started blacking out. But some inner eye caught a change in the light, showing me the way up. That gave me one last nanosecond and I dragged myself towards the light as hard as I could draw water. The beast let me go with a gasp.

The first thing I saw was Jon, standing on one of his tubes as he floated maybe twenty yards away, throwbag in hand, scanning with a very worried look. He heard my gasp, turned and threw a perfect toss, hit me square in the face and dragged my exhausted ass back to his boat. We were already in the bottom of the tailwaves, below where they hit the rocks on the right shore if that tells my brethren how far I’d come with only a half breath.

Jon says to me “Wow man! We thought we’d lost ya! You were gone a looooong time!”

And here me and Tina are, joined once more in an unholy fate.

There’s that wriggling shadow deep underwater again. I resolve not to let her get away this time. I dunk under and reach into the swirl, find a hand which tries to jerk away but I manage to pull her towards me. After a brief instant of indecision, she barrels in hard, slams me in the chest and drives me backwards into those freaking knobs from hell.

She sucks in a quick breath and exclaims “Wow! I’m in!” with a big smile. Then she sees me and the smile turns to shock and she says, “Whoa! What happened to you?!”

One of my eyes is closed from the blood streaming off my scalp. I can feel warm blood mixing with the cold water on my back too. I don’t say anything at first, because I know it won’t be good. There’s the sound of both of us breathing hard, and the drip, drip, dripping.

And at that very moment the lights go out. The Green Room turns black.  Our breath sounds stop.

Without thinking I say; “Either that’s the biggest, blackest cloud in the history of mankind, or Havasu’s flashing again.”

It seems too dark to be just a cloud to my feeble brain. Either way it’s obvious that I probably shouldn’t have blurted out what I was thinking as she starts to hyperventilate.

I offer, “Tina, I’m not sure what’s going on out there, but it’s probably a good idea we exit pronto, eh?” No response, just hard fast panting. I’m glad I can’t see the expression on her face.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna turn you in the direction you need to face to swim out. Then I’m gonna count to three, and we’ll each take some deep breaths. When I say three, we’ll both dunk under and swim down and out as hard as we can, and we’ll come out in the pool past the waterfall, okay?”

I don’t speak out loud all the possibilities of what happens next running through my head. One thing at a time.

So I turn her so she’s facing outwards, count to three, and we dunk.

I can feel her wildly thrashing by my side for about one nanosecond, then she kicks me hard in the chest as she whirls back towards the cave.

What can I do? She’s my client, I’m the guide, her parents are on the trip. I turn back and follow.

My hand is dutifully flicking in front of my head in the darkness as I swim, trying to find the air of the cave. There’s a moment of panic, but then there it is and I follow my hand in, slamming my head on the roof again, which is somehow too close.

Thankfully Tina’s head is also there. But this time there’s barely any room. We’re neck deep, her face is an inch from mine, and she’s screaming over and over, “Oh! Oh My God! I’m Too Young To Die!...”

Yeah, me too.

It’s at moments like these that my world goes quiet. My heart, my mind and my breathing slow. As passionate and boisterous as I can often be, I was built for moments like this; the calm in the storm. It’s what I do.

I know, I created this shitshow in the first place is what you’re thinking.

Anyway, very evenly, too softly I say to Tina’s eyeball; “Tina, you need to calm down, right… now.”

She can sense the threat, the peril, the menace, stops screaming about how young she is.

Now that I have her attention…

“Okay, Tina. Here’s how it is. We’re going to do that one, two, three count thing  and then dunk under again. You got that part?”

It’s still pitch black but her face is so close to mine I can feel her silently nodding. I’m thinking to myself that either the water’s rising fast and this cave is about to go completely under, or we’re just in a corner and she’s blocking the rest of it, or maybe even we’re in some other cave altogether. No time to check it out though. All things considered it’s now or never.

“Good. This time I’m going to hold your wrist the whole time while we’re swimming out. If you yank free and turn around again, I’m not coming back for you. Got that?”

She nods.

“Okay, then. One… two… three!”

We dunk under, and I start heading where I figure is down and out, clutching her wrist as I swim. I can feel her trying to wrench away, but I’m ready this time and I don’t let go as I swim with my other arm and kick hard. A tiny bit of glowing sort of half light appears out of the murkiness in front of us, just like in that wave back in Salt Creek, and she tears her arm away, kicks me in the face, swims wildly towards it and disappears.

I surface blinking to the exact same glorious turquoise pool, glance up to where a great, big billowy cloud floats tranquilly across a deep cobalt sky, throwing a shadow just where we happen to be. The sound of the waterfall is the same as always, not the dreaded freight-train roar I half-expected. I turn towards cousin Albert, still standing there in his undies where Tina is  headed full steam ahead like an Olympic freestyler.

Al’s smile disappears into a frown, his happily waving arm droops to his side, as he says; “Wow, you guys were gone a long ti… whoa, what happened to you, cuz!?”

I’m so glad to be alive I don ‘t even notice the blood running down my face, behind my ears and down my neck.

That’s the last time I ever went into the Green Room. I’ve since heard the travertine has grown so much it’s gone anyway, but it doesn’t matter to me. Tina told her mom and dad about our little epic that evening on Tuckup beach. Dad came over to me as I sipped a single malt with my colleagues on the rafts, telling the tale as we do, and said, “I’m glad you took Tina into the Green Room. It’ll help her grow up.”

All I could do was look at him with a goofy smile and nod.

Later, laying on my deck and gazing up at the powdered sugar Milky Way in a sliver of blackness shaped by towering cliffs, different shape at each camp, I pondered our tribe. How we shared one of the few jobs on the planet where retirement was a dreaded beast. How much we needed a little backup from the Great Spirit not to hurt or kill someone on these adventures, or ourselves for that matter. Especially once time has forced us to hang up the sticks or the cob for good. How when lightning does strike, as it will, how we big strong heroes need to come together and hold each other tight.

Havasu is special partly because it’s first among equals, a magical oasis in the greater bowl of power we call the Grand Canyon. Looking back at all the times I jogged the seven miles up to Supai Village with Wesley for an ice cream, or took the wide-eyed folks for a plunge behind Mooney Falls, or just swam every single glimmering pool all the way up and back, my heart beats a little faster. Thankfully it’s not A-Fib. I can’t believe how lucky I was to have been down there for so long. I miss it and my pards, knowing that there’s no dragging my boat back upstream for another run.

Carrie & I have left a legacy endowment to the Whale Foundation, GCRG, and the Redside Foundation, partly to feel our thread of connection for a short while longer, partly because we know others will need a throwbag from time to time, as did I. We humbly submit you consider doing so as well.