The Plains of Passage - Jean M. Auel [189]
They all converged near the horses, then walked together toward the cliff and stood at the place where the small stream spilled over the edge into the Great Mother River below.
“Do you really think she ought to climb down? It’s a long drop and it can be scary,” Jondalar said. “It’s even a little unsettling for me. I haven’t done it in quite a while.”
“You said you wanted to give her a ride in a real boat, Jondalar,” Markeno said. “And she might want to see our dock.”
“It’s not that difficult,” Tholie said. “There are footholds and ropes to hold on to. I can show her how.”
“She doesn’t have to climb down,” Carlono said. “We can lower her in the supply basket, the same way we brought you up the first time, Jondalar.”
“That might be best,” Jondalar said.
“Come down with me and we’ll send it up.”
Ayla had listened to the discussion while she was looking down at the river and the precarious path they used to descend—the path Roshario had fallen down, though she had been completely familiar with it. She saw the sturdy knotted ropes that were secured to wooden pegs driven into narrow crevices in the rock, starting at the top where they stood. Part of the steep descent was washed by the stream as it fell, splashing from rock to ledge.
She watched Carlono step over the edge with practiced ease, grabbing a rope with one hand while his foot found the first narrow ledge. She saw Jondalar blanch a little, take a deep breath, then follow the man down, somewhat slower and more carefully. In the meantime, Markeno, with Shamio wanting to help, picked up a large coil of thick rope. The coil ended with a loop that had been woven into the end as an integral part and dropped over a heavy stake that was about midway between the walls at the edge of the embayment. The rest of the long cable was thrown over the cliff. Ayla wondered what kind of fiber they used to make their ropes. They were the heaviest cordage she had ever seen.
Shortly afterward, Carlono came back up carrying the other end of the cable. He walked toward a second stake not far from the first, then began hauling up the rope, neatly dropping it in a coil beside him. A large, shallow, basketlike object soon appeared at the edge of the cliff between the two stakes. Full of curiosity, Ayla went to take a closer look.
Like the ropes, the basket was extremely sturdy. The flat woven bottom, which was reinforced and stiffened with wooden planks, was shaped in a long oval with straight sides around the edge like a low fence. It was easily big enough to hold a person lying down, or a medium-size sturgeon with its head and tail over the front and back. The largest sturgeon, one of two varieties that lived only in the river and its major tributaries, reached thirty feet in length and weighed over three thousand pounds, and had to be cut into pieces to be hoisted up.
The supply basket was slung between two ropes that were threaded through and held in place by four rings made of fiber, two attached to each long side. Each rope went down through one ring, and up through the ring that was diagonally on the opposite side, crossing underneath. The four ends of the ropes were plaited together and formed into a large heavy loop above, and the rope that had been thrown over the edge was threaded through that loop.
“Just climb in, Ayla. We’ll hold it steady and lower you down,” Markeno said, putting on a pair of close-fitting, leather mittens, then wrapping the long end once around the second stake in preparation for lowering the basket.
When she hesitated, Tholie said, “If you’d rather just climb down, I’ll show you how. I never did like to ride the basket.”
Ayla looked at the steep climb again. Neither way looked very inviting. “I’ll try the basket this time,” she said.
Where the path down was located, the wall below the cliff was steep but sloped enough to make it climbable, barely; near the middle