October 8, 2012, 9:20 a.m.
It was my last day with Gabriel at The River. I needed to leave for the airport before dawn the next morning. I almost didn’t want to. Being with this man out in the wilderness opened me up at the deepest level. The River saw right through me. I couldn’t hide a thing. I had seen a river before, but this time, I experienced it. I felt the water’s touch. I heard the water’s voice. I really saw The River’s power and beauty. Before this trip, I never really knew I needed forgiveness. I don’t think I’d ever been truly honest with anyone until Gabriel Clarke. He didn’t judge me. He just led me through to a place of truth.
The hike was more challenging than I thought. We came to the fork and went left. It was a cool, damp, and cloudy late morning.
“The Cathedral is to the right. We’ll stop there on the way back.” His low, gravelly voice sounded strong and reverent.
“Okay . . . right behind you.”
The sound of the thundering falls rose with every slog of my boots. We arrived at a clearing. He took his backpack off. I followed his lead.
“Come with me,” he said as we walked to the edge of the ridge. “That’s Firewater Gorge.”
The falls, the spray, the rock formations created a dazzling display of nature. “Wow. It’s even more magnificent than I imagined.”
“Grab on to this tree,” he instructed with his hand on a broad fir tree.
I did.
“This is the tree that I clung to fifty-six years ago now.”
I felt hollow as I considered what he’d carried with him his entire life. The terrifying scene from that tree must have played in his mind a million times.
Gabriel scrambled down the hill to the water’s edge next to the falls. I followed carefully. He stood with his back to the water as I arrived. He pointed over my shoulder to a tree that was now behind me. I turned to see the deep etching in the spruce, the symbol of Ama-Woya, the sign of the scar named “mercy” on Jacob, the symbol of freedom, and the symbol of The River.
“We believe that’s the original one, the sign she carved to commemorate her freedom. Life brings many scars, many tears, Blake. The River meets us in the tears and washes our scars. The ashes of our brokenness and grief will one day give way to displays of love and beauty. It’s written in the scars.”
Gabriel ran his hand over the moss-stained tree carving. He turned to The River and pointed to a giant boulder in the current next to the bank where the waters poured around it powerfully.
“Is that where it happened?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I still miss him.” He cupped his hands to his mouth like a megaphone and shouted, “I love you! In . . . The . . . River! In . . . The . . . River!” His voice seemed to carry all the way to the top of the canyon ridge. He was uninhibited by my presence or whether I would understand such a thing. I was so moved by this battle cry . . . this cry of love . . . this cry of devotion.
I stooped down and leaned over the bank to touch the water. Something happened as I did. I’ve never seen visions. I’ve had dreams, of course, but when the mist of the waterfall hit my face and I felt the water push against my hand, I had the most vivid scenes flash into my mind’s eye. They terrified me. They probably only lasted fractions of a second, but they are forever etched in my mind and heart.
My family, Sarah, Jake, Lily, and Dylan, were in a raft by themselves. The raft was spinning. Sarah was doing her best to control it in the raging water but to no avail. They were careening toward a massive waterfall. I could read the kids’ lips. They were looking at me, shouting, “Daddy! Daddy!” but I couldn’t hear them. The looks of terror on their faces broke my heart. I started banging on the window of my BMW and yanking on the door handle. I was locked in my luxury car on the bank watching the most beautiful gifts of my life struggle and then disappear.
I jerked my hand out of the water and shook my head. I was gasping with anxiety. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I stood back up to my feet, and Gabriel looked at me as if he knew what I’d seen.
“Let’s go. One more place.”
I couldn’t shake the feeling of what just happened. We climbed back up the steep hill, grabbing small trees and setting our feet in the embedded rocks. We hiked back the way we came to the fork and took a left. After another strenuous thirty-minute haul, we came to the place I will never forget.
“Welcome to the Cathedral of the Sun, Blake.”
As I approached the massive rock, the sun broke through the clouds. It absolutely was nature’s cathedral. The rock spires rose mightily into the sky. I felt small in their shadow. I walked with Gabriel over to the base, and we set our backpacks down. I saw the gravestones. I felt an amazing connection to history, to greatness, and to my new friend’s story as I looked at the names.
John W. Clarke
1928–1956
Forever in The River
I thought of the legacy of this man. He was a true hero . . . a legend. After a few moments I took a couple of steps over and gazed at the next one.
Ezra Buchanan
Faithful Friend to All
Forever in The River
1894–1975
I contemplated the selflessness of this gentle soul. How he led Gabriel through the most difficult times with timeless wisdom.
It was the next one that humbled me to the dust and caused my heart to sink.
Tabitha Fielding Clarke
Beloved Wife and Mother
The Canyon Princess
Forever in The River
1954–2010
I felt his presence as he joined me.
“I didn’t know, Gabriel. I’m so sorry.”
“We had thirty-six beautiful years together. We lived for each other and for The River.” He knelt down on both knees, wiping debris from the stone as he continued. “She was so feisty, all the way up until the day the cancer won. She was still telling me to never stop living and to go for my dreams. She believed in me. Do you know what her last words to me were? ‘You have to do the Top 10!’ When I first met you in the airport, I was coming back from that trip. Every rapid of that trip was run in her honor. Oh . . . we had some rocky times too, but we never quit. We loved each other . . . forgave each other . . . through it all.”
Gabriel wiped his eyes as he stood back up. He faced me. I felt like he saw my soul.
“I’d give anything . . . to have one more day, one more picnic under the falls, one more good night kiss, one more run of The River, one more anything with her. My Tabitha is gone, Blake. But yours . . .” He put his finger in my chest. “. . . Your Tabitha . . . is still here. What are you going to do about it? What are you going to give your life to? What are you going to run after? You still have a choice. Which path will you choose?”
His words lanced my heart, and I wept at the Cathedral of the Sun.
I loaded the last of my things into my car and shut the trunk. As Gabriel walked over from the lodge, a vintage faded yellow Range Rover Jeep rumbled into the drive. A thirty-something, blond-bearded outdoorsman jumped out as soon as it stopped.
“There he is!” The young man ran and embraced Gabriel.
“Blake! Come here!” the guide shouted. “I’d like you to meet John Ezra, my son. We call him J.E.”
I extended my hand to have it nearly crushed by the rock-solid man. He was the spitting image of his father.
“Nice to meet you, Blake.”
“You too. So are you a guide as well?” I asked.
Gabriel answered before his son could.
“The best.” He wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “He and I are getting ready to run some big water over the next few days. There’s nothing better than having your son become your best friend.” He looked at his son with eyes full of pride. “You ready to make history?”
“Let’s do it,” J.E. said confidently.
“Have a safe trip back, my friend.” Gabriel extended his strong and weathered hand and pulled me in for hug.
“Gabriel, I can’t thank you enough.”
“Listen, you’re welcome anytime. I have a great idea. Bring your whole family! We’ll show them the time of their lives.” He opened his eyes wide and smiled.
“I hope I get a chance to take you up on that, friend.”
“Well, if you do, I’ll have to share some of the most amazing miracles that our family has experienced on The River. They’ll blow your mind,” he said through that comforting, crazed grin.
“Nice to meet you, J.E.”
“You too.”
I climbed in my car. As I was getting ready to shut my door, he called my name one last time.
“Blake.”
I turned.
“Go make history.”
It was dusk as I pulled into the long drive of our small farm back in Tennessee. My heart jumped out of my chest as I saw a couple of bikes lying on the side of the drive and her SUV in front of the garage. Out of the corner of my eye, Dylan came sprinting from the side yard carrying his firefly net.
“Daddy’s home! Daddy’s home!” He grabbed onto my leg like a little capuchin monkey. “I caught eleventeen fire-flies, Dad!”
Lily came skipping around from the back of the garage carrying her glow-in-the-dark hulahoop around her waist. Her smile was electric.
Jake was sitting under a large maple tree in an old Adirondack chair with his headphones on. He took one off.
“Where you been?”
I looked to the front porch of the house, and there was Sarah standing in the twilight. Her arms were folded. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore my favorite faded jeans and sweater. Her face looked as beautiful as ever, but tired from crying. My heart melted at the sight of her. There was more love in her eyes than anger, which surprised me.
I spent a few moments with the kids, asking them about the fun they’d had at Grandma’s and such.
“Guys, I need to talk to Mom for a few minutes. Then maybe we’ll all go get some dinner, okay?”
“I’m making dinner. It’ll be ready in about thirty minutes.” She leaned up against the support beam on the porch. Her voice sounded kind but distant.
“Would you walk with me for a minute?”
She threw the dish towel over her shoulder and strolled by my side over to the large tire swing on the edge of the property.
The first words out of my mouth brought both of us heavy tears.
“I’m so sorry. I’ll do whatever it takes. Please tell me we aren’t over. Please tell me you’ll give me a chance. You are the love of my life. You’re my best friend. I’ve been chasing everything that’s wrong. I want you. I want the kids. I don’t know how I let myself wander. I just . . .”
My words came out like a machine gun until she stopped me.
“It hurts so deep, Blake. I can’t even explain it. I’m so angry. But I know it’s not just you. I’ve shut you out. We need help, Blake . . . we need help. We need a new beginning.”
“Whatever it takes, Sarah. Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”
I dropped to my knees.
“I love you, Sarah. With all my heart . . . I love you.”
She knelt down slowly, and we embraced in the tear-soaked dirt under the maple tree with the tire swing. In a moment of the greatest love and grace I’d ever known on this earth, my bride sat next to me for dinner that night.
Sarah and I have been on the richest and most glorious journey. It’s been a painful road, but pain toward healing, like surgery.
We’ve dug up the bones, but we’re giving them a proper burial. It’s a burial in The River, so to speak.
It’s been a journey toward each other. Grace and forgiveness are winning the battle over judgment and condemnation. We have been given another chance, and we are not wasting a second of it. I’m giving my life to something greater now. No more empty pursuits. Relationships . . . in the end . . . they are the only things that matter.
When your life collides with someone like Gabriel Clarke, you’re never the same. I want to live a life like that . . . a life of unexplainable purpose and love in the face of fear and tragedy.
Sarah and I are taking the kids out to Big Water Adventures this year. I want them to meet Gabriel and John Ezra. There is so much more of his story I want to hear. I can’t wait to show them what I saw, teach them what I learned, and hope beyond hope that the ways of The River get in them too. I hope we’ll see you there. If not, you can be sure I’ll write about it. It’s important to share our stories. It helps us know we aren’t alone.
Don’t forget the words of my friend Gabriel Clarke, “We are all made for The River.”