Between a Rock and a Hard Place - Aron Ralston [114]
“It’s possible, but he said ‘See you Tuesday’ on his way out the door. He knew today was his project day.”
“He must still be on his way home from Utah, then,” Leona said. “Maybe he’ll be there in an hour or so.”
“Maybe. I’m gonna go, but I’ll check back. When do you leave?”
“In an hour, once I get the car packed.”
“OK, call me if you see him.”
“I will. Bye.” Leona hung up and paced around with a heavy heart. She started packing her aunt Leslie’s Subaru with her belongings, readying for the drive down to Boulder, but the more full the car got, the more worried she became.
Aware that I had never been over fifteen minutes late in the past, Brion was also starting to get concerned. He went down to the sales floor around eight-thirty A.M. to talk the matter over with another employee and climber, Sam Upton. “Have you seen Aron come in yet?”
Sam looked up from organizing the trail-running shoes in the display room. “Uh, no—he’s supposed to be redoing the camping wall this morning, right?”
Ignoring Sam’s question, Brion pressed. “He hasn’t called or anything?”
Sam sensed the tension in his voice. “No. Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know. I just talked with Leona, and he wasn’t home. She said it didn’t look like he’d been there at all. It’s eight-thirty now. The only time Aron’s ever been more than a few minutes late was when he had that epic up on Pearl Pass.” Remembering the time a month earlier when I had spent the night bivouacking in a hand-dug snow pit at 12,000 feet, Brion had confidence that I would show up unless I was in serious trouble.
Understanding the implications, Sam asked, “Do you think he’s had an accident?”
“Aw, I don’t know. The only thing I know for sure is he’s not ditching work. It’s possible something bad might have happened.”
“He could be lost or hurt. But I doubt he’s lost—he’s always wearing his compass and altimeter watch, and he’s good with it,” Sam said.
“No, I know. Even if he were fifty miles out in the middle of nowhere, he could cover that in a day. It’s not a panic situation. I mean, he’s strong enough that if something happened, he’d get himself out. Anything short of a broken leg wouldn’t even slow him down. And if he broke his leg, he’d crawl back. It’d take him awhile, but he’d get out. We have to give him twenty-four hours,” Brian concluded, and Sam agreed.
Leona called in to the Ute once an hour, speaking with Brion and Paul Perley, the general manager. She recounted the last time she’d seen me, on Wednesday night almost a week before. “He had his boxes of climbing equipment out and his biking stuff. He said he was going to do some climbing, some canyoneering, and maybe some mountain biking. He was packing like ‘Oh, I should take this just in case I go biking,’ and ‘Oh, I should take this in case I want to do some climbing.’ He usually would have it all figured out ahead of time, but this time I don’t think he knew where he was going. He said he was going to Utah, to the Canyonlands area. The question is, did he make it to the desert?”
As the afternoon slipped away, Brion reiterated his decision with Paul. “We have to give him until nine o’clock tomorrow morning. Any mountaineer would want the chance to get himself out of trouble before the helicopters start flying. If he isn’t here at the start of his shift tomorrow, I’ll call his parents and get the ball rolling.”
Tuesday evening around six-thirty P.M., right after their shifts, my roommates Brian and Joe were sitting in the living room at Spruce Street, relaxing with the garage door rolled up, testing the quality of the beer left in the keg.
“Hey, what’s the story with Aron?” Joe inquired.
“He’s still gone,” Brian replied. “I think Leona called the Ute this morning. He didn’t go in to work.”
“What do you think we should do, call the cops or something?” Joe wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do, but it struck