Between a Rock and a Hard Place - Aron Ralston [110]
Pulling over to the side of the dirt access road in front of her friend, Kristi rolled down her window and joked, “Hey there, you need a lift?”
Resting in the seats, the women filled their water bottles and drank up, rehydrating after the tiring hike up the West Fork. Megan asked Kristi, “Should we go back to the Granary Spring Trailhead and wait for Aron?”
“I think he made it out before us, actually.”
Megan didn’t believe it. “No way, he had like ten miles left to hike. There’s no way he already got out and came to look for us.”
“But I looked for his bike, and I didn’t see it. There aren’t that many places to hide a bike out there. I think he’s gone. He probably went to Goblin Valley to get to the party.”
Megan figured Kristi had missed seeing my bike and that I would be around in another hour or two. “Should we go back just to see if he shows up?”
Kristi was concerned about her fuel situation, knowing it would be twenty-five miles to the nearest gas station. She hesitated. “If we drive around much more, we won’t make it to Hanksville. We’ve got maybe thirty miles left—we should really go and get gas and just meet him at Goblin Valley before it gets dark.”
Not feeling strongly about it one way or the other, Megan acquiesced, and the friends drove to Hanksville for gas and a hamburger and milk shake at a greasy spoon called Stan’s.
An hour later, around the same time that Brad and Leah were roving the desert back roads at Goblin Valley, Kristi and Megan turned off the highway into the state park, looking for the same party. A large sign indicated that the campground was full. Kristi stopped the vehicle to consider their next move.
“Should we go to the campground and try to find the party?” Megan asked.
“I don’t know.” Kristi laughed at herself, then explained, “It’s funny, this whole day has been so indecisive. ‘Should we wait or should we go get gas? Should we go this way or that?’ ”
“It’ll be fun, but I’m tired.”
“Me, too.” Then Kristi reconsidered. “But it’ll be fun.”
Megan said, “You know what’s going to happen? We go in there, and everybody’ll be drinking, and then we’ll drink. And then it will be dark, and the campground is full, and we’ll be drunk and have to go drive around the desert looking for a place to camp.”
Figuring they would find me over at the Little Wild Horse Canyon the next morning, Kristi and Megan turned around and drove down the highway on the way to Little Wild Horse until the pavement ended. They pulled off on a spur road, where they camped out that night. Sunday morning, they took their time getting ready and then drove the short commute, parking next to a Toyota Tacoma at the parking area for Little Wild Horse. Kristi noticed the vehicle first.
“Hey, do you remember what kind of truck Aron has?”
“Uh-uh. I don’t think he told us,” Megan said, still feeling tired from the previous day’s effort in Blue John.
Kristi said, “That Toyota looks like it could be his. It’s got skis and a bike. And it’s got Colorado license plates. I bet that’s his truck.”
“He’s probably already in the canyon,” suggested Megan.
Kristi agreed. “Yeah, it’s already eleven-thirty. He probably went in.”
“We should put a note on his windshield with our e-mails, in case we don’t see him in the slot.”
“But what if it’s not his truck?”
Megan was used to exchanging e-mail addresses with people, to arrange future trips and invite them to visit Moab. She was surprised she hadn’t done that with me the day before. “Well, if it’s his, he’ll have our e-mails, and if it’s not, they’ll just throw it away.”
“It’s an out-and-back canyon, though. If he’s in there, then we’ll see him on his way out.”
“OK, then. Should we have lunch before we go and see if Aron shows up here?”
“Hmm, I’m not really hungry yet.” Kristi was ready for some hiking and exploring.
While they were walking, Megan continued speculating about whether they would see me at Little Wild Horse. “Do you think he came