Sunlight streams through the foliage, forming shafts of sunlight pointing toward the forest floor. Birdsong fills the air, and the scent of loam and dirt overloads my senses.
Mud, sticks, and leaves cling to me. My feet squish in my boots. Once I get Hayes out of the water, our first concern will be to dry out our feet after immersion in the river. In the jungle, wet feet fester in the blink of an eye, creating open sores if we’re not careful. Not to mention, wet clothes abrade delicate skin where infection can set in.
“Can you see the falls?” Hayes calls out, reminding me we don’t have time to waste.
“Let me see.” I stand and peer down the path of the river. “I can’t see anything except mist.” Dear Lord, this waterfall is bigger than I thought.
“I’m going to work toward it and see if I can find a way up,” Hayes calls out, letting me know what he’s doing. I keep pace with him from above as worry tightens in my gut.
“Okay.” Fear makes my voice crack, and I do a poor job of keeping it together. “What do you want me to do?”
“Keep up with me and don’t worry. We’ll find a way out of this.”
I wish I was as confident as him. I hug the edge, placing my feet carefully. The whole reason we wound up in the water is because I didn’t watch where I put my foot. I know better than that, but I was distracted.
As we move toward the waterfall, Hayes in the river, me twenty feet over his head, the river narrows and picks up speed. Glancing down, Hayes fights the force of the water, trying to sweep him off his feet.
Then I see it.
The drop-off.
THIRTEEN
Hayes
The only positive thing that has happened thus far is getting Rosalie out of the river. She’s fucking phenomenal, although I worried she wouldn’t be able to scale that wall. It was a Hail Mary on my part; a last-ditch effort to get her out of the water and away from what comes next.
As far as what comes next, I’m literally up Shit’s Creek without a paddle. A waterfall doesn’t bother me. I eat those up for breakfast. It’s the adventurer in me, but when I tackle Class V rapids, including waterfalls, I do so in a competition kayak complete with helmet, life vest, spare air, and the ever-important paddle.
I’ve got no paddle, no kayak, no life vest, and no clue how I’m getting out of this.
People think me an adrenaline junkie, and they’re right. I love the thrill of living on the edge.
Want to jump out of a plane? Sign me up.
Interested in going underground to explore a cave? I’m your guy.
Want to drift dive pinnacle reefs? I’m first in line.
Heli-skiing, mountain biking, parasailing? I haven’t met a challenge I’ve failed to conquer.
However, all of that pales in comparison to going over a waterfall in a rainforest without any support. No backup. And no advanced planning.
But what are my options?
“Hayes?” Rosalie calls down from overhead.
“Yes, luv?”
“Have you found a way up?”
No.
“I’m working on it.” Gritting my teeth, I turn my attention to the water and perform the same assessment I’d make if I was in my kayak, getting ready to go over the falls.
It’s all about picking a line. The safest path is the centermost line, where the water bunches together and speeds up. You need that to create what I call a cushion. That is where the greatest force exists; to push you out as far as possible from what’s behind the waterfall.
I slowly work toward the lip of the waterfall. The closer I approach, the faster the current speeds up, becoming wild and unrestrained. It isn’t strong enough to sweep me off my feet, but it’s as angry as a bull—a respectable force to approach with great caution, respect, and apprehension.
“You’re getting close to the edge.” Fear threads through Rosie’s voice. I imagine her high above me, wringing her hands, helpless to do anything about my plight.
My plight. It’s not hers. I got her out of the dangerous waters. Where she’s safe, but not where I can watch over her.
I’m glad she’s up there and not down here. I’ve got this. It’s not much different from the many waterfalls and rapids I’ve conquered before.
But I’m not so egotistical that I won’t ask for help when I need it.
“Rosie?”
“Yes?”
“How much of the waterfall can you see?”
“Um—not much.” Sounds of her crashing through the underbrush allow me to track her movement.
I continue my slow approach to the edge of the drop-off. As long as I hug the wall, the power of the water rushing past me is manageable. I hope I can get to the edge and look for myself. From the solid wall beside me, the chances of that happening are slim to none, which means Rosalie will have to be my eyes and ears.
I should’ve thought about this sooner. It would’ve been easier to explain what I need her to look for when she was down here rather than shouting to be heard over the raging water.
“Tell me what you see at the base of the falls.” I grimace, realizing my definition of being safe differs from hers.
It takes some time for her to scout the waterfall. While waiting for her to return, I turn my attention to the water and shifting current.
No big surprise, like most waterfalls, the fastest water bunches up in the middle.
The underwater terrain acts like a funnel, gathering most of the water and pushing it to the center. That’s where I want to be—if I was going over the falls. The current will push me away from the edge. What’s at the base of the falls is the only thing left to be determined.
There’s going over waterfalls in a kayak, knowing the depth of the pool at the bottom. Then there’s certain suicide if I crash on the rocks below.
I give myself 50-50 odds, and I’m not yet certain going over the waterfall isn’t the only way down. I might be able to scale down the side of the waterfall.
“Hayes? Hayes, are you there?” Rosalie’s soft voice calls out to me.
“Right here, luv.” I’m close to the edge and realize I didn’t tell her that was my plan.
“I thought I lost you.”
“I'm trying to see if I can get to the edge and climb down instead of going over.”
“Go over? I thought that was a joke.”
“No joke, and don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”
“You’ve gone over waterfalls before? Why would you do something so dangerous?”
Because danger is my middle name.
I don’t say that out loud. It sounds as corny as it is. I open my mouth to remind her I’m a former Navy SEAL. Accomplishing the impossible runs in our blood, but I clamp my mouth shut.
We can discuss that to her heart’s content later. Right now, I’m eager to get the hell out of here.
“Luv, what does the top of the falls look like? Is there a spot on the side where there’s less water flowing over?”
“Um, I think so, but it’s on the other side.”
Of course, it is.
“Can you describe it in more detail to me?” While she describes what she can see, I work my way back upstream, impressed by her attention to detail.