October 4, 2012, 6:30 a.m.
With every labored step, my lungs burned with the morning air. The steam from each exhale clouded my eyes. The changes in elevation really took me off guard. The steep grades and the altitude shortened my normal five miles to about three. Running has always been my release. It’s where I think and process life. Running in the mountains, in the wilderness, was a different experience. I felt like I was in a movie. Toward the end of my run that morning, it did occur to me that these woods were teeming with wildlife far more powerful and fast than I. That helped me pick up the pace. Imagining a grizzly bear in pursuit of me in the morning twilight improved my ability to push through the pain on the last half mile.
During the run, I couldn’t stop thinking about Gabriel’s story. It was so surreal, these people, these experiences. To see someone who had experienced such tragedy and suffering and still find beauty in life was truly inspiring.
I sprinted off the two-lane road into the gravel parking area of the lodge. I checked the time on my watch as I struggled to catch my breath. I surveyed the spectacular beauty that surrounded me. Like a tidal wave of insight, it hit me. This was a picture of my life. Running. Running away. I fooled myself into thinking I was conquering life, winning at everything. I was not running to anything. I was running away . . . away from my kids, from my wife, my choices, my past . . . my pain . . . and I didn’t even know it.
I started the short walk back to the cabin to get cleaned up. As I rounded the gear shed, Gabriel emerged from the woods. Just like I remembered him from the airport, he had on his knit cap, a worn-thin flannel shirt, and he was carrying a mug of coffee.
“Morning, Blake.” He didn’t stop walking and greeted me as he stroked his beard.
“Morning,” I wheezed, still a little out of breath.
“I’d like to take you to a couple of places today. You in?”
“Oh yeah, what places?”
“You’ll see.” He smiled as he walked past me.
“We’re not going over any waterfalls, are we?”
“Now that you mention it, that might be fun!” He kept walking.
“Seriously, what are you thinking?” I said louder as he got farther away.
He turned and started walking backward as he spoke with a devilish grin.
“Meet me at the Jeep in twenty minutes. Wear comfortable shoes, hiking boots if you have them.” His deep, gravelly voice sounded like he’d smoked for years.
He faced back the other way and turned the corner at the gear shed.
What have I gotten myself into?
I had all kinds of questions running through my mind. Even though I didn’t really know this guy, I trusted him. He had such a presence about him. Even when we talked in the airport that first time we met, I was hooked. He seemed like a man who was really alive. Not only was he alive, he was living for something and it was bigger than big.
We rambled along the winding road in his Jeep, my head bobbing with every grind of the gears. The roofless and rusted-out chassis made for a chilly ride.
“There’s coffee in that thermos back there and plenty of snacks and such in the cooler.”
“Coffee would be nice.” I helped myself to the large army-green thermos. “So are you going to tell me where we are going?”
“Did you notice the canyon walls on these switchbacks? Amazing, aren’t they?”
“Okay, okay. I’m just curious.”
“You know sometimes we are so preoccupied with what’s next that we miss spectacular moments on the journey. Look up that hill.”
Gabriel pointed across me to the mountainside. A couple of hundred feet up the canyon wall was a majestic bighorn sheep perched on a giant boulder, keeping watch over the canyon.
“Wow. How in the world did that thing get up there? That is steep!”
“It’s their hooves and sense of balance. They have these pads that grip the rock better than any climbing shoe. They can ascend to escape predators. Impressive animals.”
I learned my lesson. I would just drink in the ride through the canyon and keep watch for more stunning discoveries. I gave myself over to the wonder of it all. We saw two bald eagles gliding overhead and a rattlesnake crossing the road. The road climbed and dipped through the canyon, The River nearly always in view, sometimes through the towering trees below, sometimes thundering a few feet away.
After about a forty-five minute drive, he pulled off the road and we bounced down a rugged path into the woods. The path ended into a densely treed ridge. We could hear the white noise of the white water nearby.
Gabriel jumped out of the Jeep and grabbed his backpack from behind his seat. He moved like a twenty-year-old.
“I’m going to take you to three places today, Blake. Three places that mean a great deal to me. Sometimes what we need in our lives is a little bit of perspective. Whenever I visit these places, I remember what’s important.”
Gabriel seemed to know that I needed more than just a little adventure; I needed a change.
I followed Gabriel into the woods. We walked along a narrow trail for about five minutes before we encountered the water.
“How’s your balance?” Gabriel asked loudly over the white water’s hushed growl.
“Pretty good, I think.”
“Okay, stay close. It slopes down and it’s a little wet from the spray.” He grinned.
About ten feet over the white water, a fallen pine stretched out as a natural bridge to an island. When I got up close, it felt like a hundred feet up. The water cascading underneath gave the illusion that the ground was moving.
Gabriel took two steps out and bounced on it to make sure it was steady. He took one more step out over the water and then reached his arm back for me.
“I’m good,” I said, waving him on. I prided myself on my athletic prowess. He inched out farther, holding his arms out like a high-wire circus performer, keeping his balance. He went all the way across without even a bobble.
It was my turn. I glanced at Gabriel as he was setting his backpack down on the other side of The River. He shot me a thumbs-up. He shouted something at me, but it was difficult to hear over the powerful river flow.
“What?” I yelled.
He cupped his hands and said it again, but I couldn’t make it out.
I stepped out onto the log and pushed down to make sure of my footing. A few short steps and I was over the white water. I felt like I was flying as the water rushed underneath me. I looked up and smiled at Gabriel. He pointed to my feet. I took the next step and stumbled on a knot in the tree, and in the blink of an eye, I was dangling upside down like a sloth, hugging the tree for my life.
“Hold on, man!” I heard Gabriel yell. I could feel the mist of the water below on my neck as I struggled to get a grip. Before I knew it, he was out on the log just above me.
“Try to spin over on your belly!”
The moist algae made it very difficult to grip. I felt Gabriel grab the back of my jacket behind my shoulder. The power in his one arm was enough to pull me back up on the log and on my stomach. He started laughing.
“What are you laughing at!” I shouted with heightened urgency.
“The look on your face! Now, just crawl over on your belly.”
He backed himself all the way across as I followed like a scared kitten, gripping the wet log with all my might.
“Maybe you should have taken my arm after all, huh?”
I glared at him as I wiped off the algae and soggy bark that covered my chest.
He took me down over the backside of the small island through a patch of trees and to an opening where a stack of large river rocks stood, like a monument in the middle of the wild.
“Is this what you told me about?” I asked.
“Welcome to The Stones of Remembrance.”
I walked around to the front of the rocks and immediately looked to the bottom right corner. I knelt and scraped some of the dirt off the stone. I saw it with my own eyes. The symbol . . . the etching on the cornerstone he told me about. It was the symbol of The River. I ran my fingers over the grooves in the rock. A shiver went down my spine as I contemplated the history of this place.
“How long has this monument been here?”
“Jacob started the stacking at the time of my father’s death which was 1956 . . . so fifty-six years or so.”
I backed up and surveyed all the rocks that had been stacked. It was well over my head now, eight or nine feet at least.
Gabriel walked up and pointed to a large one in the middle of the formation.
“This is my ‘new beginnings’ stone.” He pointed to another. “This one I placed here when Rio went home. I’ve put more than thirty stones here over the years.”
Gabriel placed his hand on the monument, his head bowed in reverence.
In that moment, I felt my own sense of loss, searching for something to anchor my existence. I was reeling inside at the thought of my wife of more than fifteen years, and the mother of my children, in pain at my choices. I thought of my kids and how I’d chased everything in life but my relationship with them. I was lost. As the weight of my situation became heavier, Gabriel opened a small leather-bound book. He sat down and began to read.
“From The Journal, book three:
It is important to remember. Remember those who have loved you well. Remember that even though you have made mistakes, you are not a mistake. Remember that forgiveness is waiting. Remember to forgive. Remember that it’s never too late to love well. Remember that when you give yourself away, you never have need. Remember, The River is the center of all things, and as it flows, it carries with it new life.”
He closed the book and looked back at the wall.
“Before I could really move forward in my life, I had to remember to give thanks. I had to let go of some things. I needed to start the journey of forgiveness. I needed to ask for it, and I certainly needed to give it. I think of my father often and how he led a life of self-sacrifice to others, and ultimately exchanged his life for Jacob and the other kayaker. What could I hold on to? It’s not easy, but I find freedom every time I let go.”
My heart, my defenses were melting internally at Gabriel’s words.
“Come here for a second.” Gabriel gestured and walked to the tip of the island upstream covered with beautiful smooth stones. “Do you hear that?”
“It’s the river stones . . . like marbles . . . They are getting worked over by The River, aren’t they?” I said.
He held up a stunningly smooth stone the size of his palm. Its lavender, blue, and gray hues were laced in perfect circles. It looked like marble or granite.
“Every time I’m here, I stack a rough stone of remembrance, and I take a smooth stone from the water’s edge. It reminds me of how being in The River has shaped me. It’s making me a new man. My mistakes, my past are being tumbled into a new work of art.”
He walked back over to the monument and reached into his backpack. He handed me an antiqued leather book. It had the symbol stamped on the front.
“What is this?”
“It’s a river journal for you. You can start your own writings of what you hear The River say to you. It’s blank, ready for you to fill the pages.”
My heart lurched in my chest. “I don’t know what to say.”
I opened up the front cover and saw this inscription on the inside.
To my friend, Blake—When The River speaks, write it down. May these pages be filled with a life completely alive. For when you experience The River, you live!
Always in The River,
Gabriel Clarke
“Thank you so much, Gabriel.”
“You’re welcome. Before we go, I’d like you to do me a favor.”
“Sure . . . anything.”
“I want you to put a stone of remembrance on the monument. Before you do, I want you to write three things in that journal. First, I want you to write a message in the journal to your wife. Second, write one to your kids. Third, I want you to write a message to commemorate your stone of remembrance.”
Gabriel smiled like a gentle father, handed me a pen, and walked away.
I felt as though my soul was laid bare in this moment, and I hadn’t really told him the full story.
I sat down and opened the blank journal. I’ll never forget the feeling of the tears tumbling down my cheek and staining the page as I wrote.
Dear Sarah,
I’m not worthy of your love. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I was wrong. You don’t deserve this. My heart aches for you. I’m sorry for letting you down. I’m sorry for neglecting you and going my own way. I don’t even know why I did it, why I let my heart wander. I miss your smile. I miss laughing with you at the funny things the kids say. Nothing is right without you. Nothing. Please give me another chance. I’ll do whatever it takes. Whatever you want, to be with you again.
—Blake
Dear Jake, Lily, and Dylan,
I want you to know that I love you very much. I miss you. There’s a better way to live than what I’ve shown you. It’s not about what you have, but who you are. I haven’t said it very much, but I’m so proud of all of you. I want to spend more time with you in the coming days. Being your dad is the best thing in the world.
I love you all.
—Dad
I hereby lay this stone to remember this day, October 4, 2012, as a day of turning. Today I turn away from my empty, selfish ways, and I turn toward my family and those I’ve been given to love. I have been blessed beyond measure, and I vow to never take them for granted again. May this stone be a memorial to everything The River is showing me.
—Blake Caruthers
The rock I placed on the monument that day was heavy . . . a feather compared to my sorrow. Gabriel and I left The Stones of Remembrance, and I felt a glimmer of hope. Today I had exchanged a piece of the old me for the hope of what could be. She might not take me back . . . I knew that. I held on to hope.
Gabriel and I made our way across the tree bridge and back to the Jeep. We went back to the lodge for the evening, and he continued to share his journey with me before he took me to the second unforgettable place.