Eric was alive, thank god. He stood on the opposite shore, waving. What looked like blood flowed down the calf of his right leg.
“You okay?” I shouted back, not certain my voice would carry over the thundering falls. Signalling that he couldn’t hear, he motioned me to walk further downstream. He walked with a worrisome limp and seemed to be relying on a support, which I realized with amazement was his paddle. At least we had one paddle. Now all we needed was the canoe and my paddle, then we’d be able to leave these hellish falls behind.
When I reached a point where it seemed quieter, I shouted, “What did you do to your leg?”
“Probably scraped it on a rock. You okay?”
“Only bruises. I’m more worried about you. You took quite a beating.”
“Nothing this tough old bod can’t take. Look, I’ve got to go after that damn canoe, otherwise we’re screwed.”
That was putting it mildly. Without a canoe, the only practical way out was for Eric and most likely Teht’aa to paddle downstream in the remaining canoe in search of rescue, leaving me alone with Larry, for who knew how long, not a prospect I was exactly thrilled with. Still, if I had to, I would.
“Any sign of it?” I asked.
“Nope, not yet. I’m going to walk further along the shore. You do the same.”
While I searched for the canoe and the other missing gear, I also watched Eric as he limped over the rocks on the other side. Who was he kidding saying just a few minor scratches? It looked more like some serious bruising or even a pulled tendon.
“See anything yet?” I shouted.
“Nope, but the river widens into a lake up ahead. If we’re lucky, the current might have pushed our canoe into the quieter water.”
I crossed my fingers.
“Found it!” Eric yelled, his pace quickening, his limp less evident. I heaved a sigh of relief when I too finally saw the thin red line of the overturned hull, a good hundred metres from shore in the quiet water of a lake, but although the canoe still floated, it didn’t mean it was undamaged. The flotation tanks would keep it up, no matter how many holes were in it.
“I need the other canoe to get it. While I’m gone, try to find our gear, okay?”
“But what about your leg? Let me get it.”
“The portage is on my side of the river. Besides, leg’s feeling better. Look.” He jumped up and down.
As we both retraced our steps back to the falls, I noticed that his limp was gone, and no blood had reappeared after he’d washed his leg.
Halfway to the falls, Eric ran into his daughter, whose joy at finding him alive almost toppled him over. When Eric pointed in my direction, she made a half-hearted victory sign, almost as if she’d been prompted.
They then appeared to have an argument, for Teht’aa kept shaking her head and trying to get her father to sit down, as if wanting him to stay behind while she went for the canoe, but in the end Eric’s obstinacy won, and they both continued to the portage, where they met Larry, just arriving. The three of them then disappeared back into the foliage.
While they were gone, I retrieved the food barrel from below the falls and struggled with it downriver to where the river widened. Then I returned to the falls and scrambled back up to the top to get the rescued dry pack containing our clothes. The only remaining items were the pack with the tent and sleeping bags, and of course my paddle. But I wasn’t especially worried about the paddle; I knew the other canoe carried a spare.
On my way back downriver, I chanced upon Eric’s battered hat caught in some floating debris but left it to its soggy fate, figuring Eric didn’t need a reminder of his ill-timed celebration. I didn’t see either of the two missing items. Leaning against the dry pack, I settled myself on a small sandy beach just beyond where the river widened, a spot where I could keep my eye on the canoe as it drifted closer to the other shore. Happily, our other dry pack floated next to it.
For the first time since this ordeal had begun, I realized I was shaking. My nerves, my emotions, not to say my body, had taken a beating. My fingers were trembling so badly, I could barely undo my PFD . My heart pounded. I needed to relax and get a hold of myself if I were to make it down this river. We had at least another day, and I wasn’t sure if I had the mental strength to confront any more cataracts.
The late afternoon sun had warmed the beach to a nice baking temperature. I lay down on its soothing warmth, hoping it would calm me. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite sandy enough. Something poked my ribs. I reached under and pulled out what at first I thought was a piece of a branch, until I realized its dark bronze colour wasn’t like any stick I’d ever seen, and its pitted denseness didn’t have the texture of wood.
It was about eight inches long and shaped like a flattened cylinder, with one end jagged, as if from a break. The other end, bulbous and slightly smooth, finally gave me a clue about what I was looking at. I’d discovered enough of them lying on the forest floor to know this was a bone from a largish animal, probably a deer. The dark colour had confused me. Any animal remains I’d found had been greyish white. I flung it into the woods and settled back down onto the warm sand.
I felt a lump under my leg and pulled up another piece of bone, what looked to be a vertebra. When I noticed several more vertebrae and some flat pieces of what could be ribs, I couldn’t help but feel a certain squeamishness. I’d been lying on some poor animal’s grave.
“We’re here, Meg!” Eric suddenly called from the other shore. He was settling Larry’s canoe into the water. Behind him stood his daughter, leaning slightly forward with the weight of the lightest of their two packs. Larry tramped much further behind. Even from this distance, I could see the sweat pouring down his square face as he struggled to remain upright with the pack I knew carried his beer.
After discarding her gear, Teht’aa jumped into their canoe with her father, and they headed out to where ours floated. I assumed they would drag it back to shore, but Eric had other plans. After retrieving the dry pack, he jumped into the water, while Teht’aa positioned herself in the middle of the yellow canoe.
Wanting to get away from the remains, I shifted farther along the small beach. When I leaned back onto a piece of driftwood, my hand touched what felt like fabric buried in the hot sand. I pulled out a filthy NHL cap, complete with the Senators’ insignia. While the brim was intact, the cap was ripped at the back. No doubt a casualty from another dump in the rapids. For a moment the bones crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed the thought.
At the sound of shouts, I turned back to find Eric straddling one end of the overturned canoe, with the other end raised,
and pointing to where his daughter sat in the middle of the other canoe. Intrigued, I watched as they maneuvered our canoe onto Teht’aa’s then skillfully righted it and thrust it back into the water. Miraculously, it floated.
“Any damage?” I shouted.
Eric shook his head, then, while his daughter held it steady, climbed into the rescued canoe and paddled towards me, while she headed back to Larry.
Taken off-guard by the quickness of the rescue, I hastened to collect the barrel and brought it back to the small beach. When I dropped it against a shallow embankment of eroding sand, the sand collapsed, dislodging some largish rocks, but one didn’t look like a rock. It was smooth, round and had the familiar bronze colour.
Curious, I picked it up, but immediately dropped it. Two empty sockets stared back at me. I shuddered. I didn’t need to be a zoologist to know this didn’t belong to a deer or any other animal. I stepped away, not wanting to be within direct line of sight of those eyeless holes.
“What’ve you got there?” Eric said, jamming the canoe onto the beach.
“A skull. As in human skull.”
“Cool. Maybe another pour soul who had the good fortune to go over those falls.” He chuckled.
“Don’t joke. It could’ve been you.”
“At least I didn’t get my head bashed in.” His foot tapped at a jagged hole in the back.
“What should we do about it?”
“Leave it. Probably a logger from the old days.”
“I’m not so sure this was an accident. Don’t you think a bash against a rock would’ve crushed the skull, not made a hole like this?”
“Could’ve been done by one of those heavy chains used to keep the log booms together.”
“Maybe, but eventually his body would’ve floated to shore to be left lying on the ground. I think this guy was buried here. The skull came from this embankment.” I tapped it. More sand broke loose, along with another bone.
“Could’ve been found and buried by another logger.”
“Why do I get the impression you don’t want to do anything about this skeleton?”
“Well, we could give him another burial. But I can’t afford the time. As you’re well aware, I’ve got to be in Winnipeg tomorrow night for that key Assembly of First Nations meeting. I’d just as soon tuck the bones we’ve found under a rock, give him a quick prayer and be on our way.”
“We may not have any choice in the matter. I think this death is much more recent than any nineteenth century logger.” I held up the baseball cap. “Probably belongs to him. And as we know, the Senators hockey team has only been in existence since 1992.”
I glanced back down at the hole in the skull and placed the tear in the cap over it. They seemed to match. “We have to let the police know.”