Tim Parks - Rapids

Then after only ten more minutes Amal asked for another stop. I’m getting a headache, he said. Pressure, Adam told him. At this point when I climbed it two years ago, we were already on the ice, Clive said. All around them, the ground was arid flint. Again Michela said out loud, I won’t get through the whole summer like this. Again no one responded. She said it in such a strangely detached way. Slim and tall against the sky, it was as if she wasn’t quite among them. Or she is just complaining about the path. Look at this, Amal said. On a plaque nailed into the rock there was an oval photograph of a young woman’s face. Vince went close to read. Katrin Hofstetter: 19.1.1979—31.8.1999. The face was bright and the woman’s long blonde hair had been brushed forward to fall on her shoulder. Actually, that’s about the fourth of those, Adam said. First woman though.

Eventually, they reached the snow and began to walk around the horseshoe of the ridge, so as to descend behind the hostelry. They were on top of the world here. Only far to the north, in Austria, were there taller peaks with larger glaciers. When the ice is gone, Clive explained to Vince, but he evidently wanted Adam to hear, you won’t get that slow storage and release of water you get at the moment. It’ll either be bone — dry, or, after it rains, you’ll get great surges ripping down the slopes and flooding the valleys out. Obviously, the less snow there is, the more the temperature goes up and the more the glacier melts, so there’s a built — in acceleration to it all.

Standing on the crusty grey ice, Vince turned to look in all directions at the phenomenon of the Alps. It was curious how something could be at once awesome and vulnerable. Your instinct was to shiver at the majesty, yet you were being told you had destroyed it. Amal asked if anything could actually be done. Only if the whole world changes its lifestyle, Clive remarked, and drastically. Then Adam said: A hawk, look. Apparently he has decided not to argue. Below them a large bird was slipping across the air — stream that rose from the valley. Same principle as a ferry — glide, the Indian boy said. See how he sets the angle and lets the wind squeeze him sideways. Standing right on the edge, where the ridge fell away into the valley beyond, Michela had taken Clive’s hand. The couple stood together looking out over an ocean of empty air. The drop is dizzying. The hawk closed its wings and went down like a stone. Clive slipped an arm round her waist. How can I ever go back to the bank? Vince wondered.

Then Michela said: You must do something serious, Clive. She squeezed his hand hard. He turned and found her face flushed with the sun and the glare from the ice. Her eyes were melting in the bright light. Not just demonstrations, she told him. He was staring at her. They were standing on the edge. One forward step and they would be gone right out of things. Had he understood? We have to move, Clive announced. Or we’ll be late. This is where the path turns down. Careful not to slip now.

Where are you taking us? someone shouted. Driving back to Sand in Taufers, the minibus had turned off the road down a dirt track. Suddenly the river was beside them, swirling through a deep gully. We’re going to look at the get — out point for those of you who are on the trip tomorrow. Clive had his solemn, almost religious expression. When he speaks, Michela thought, it’s as if he knew vastly more than anyone else could imagine. He hasn’t told me anything.

The bank was steep but easy enough to get down. Basically, Clive pointed upstream, when you come under the bridge, there, where the road crosses, you have about two hundred yards more to paddle, and you’re looking for the long flat spur on your right, here, below us. Everybody crowded round. Doddle, Phil said. As ever, he gave the impression of being let down. Yes, it’s easy, Clive said. Oh, check out the marker someone’s tied on the tree there. A few yards upstream, a long ribbon of orange plastic dangled from the drooping branch of a spruce. And now, Clive said, let me show you what would happen if by chance you fell asleep and drifted a few yards further down.

The dirt track turned abruptly away from the river and up the mountainside through stands of larch. Leaving it, they scrambled down a steep narrow path through brushwood and saplings. This was the gorge that made such a dramatic backdrop to the castle of Sand in Taufers as seen from the campsite. You can see why Long John Silver stuck to oceangoing craft, Brian complained. His club foot slipped. He had hurt himself. Max and Mark stayed to help. Vince grabbed a thin branch and leaned out over the water. Narrowing, the river tumbled rapidly in jumps of five, six and even ten feet, swirling between boulders and rushing against smooth walls of rock.

Clive stopped on a patch of mud and waited for the others to catch up. X — treme! Amelia breathed. They were looking down into a boil of water as the main stream went over a ledge to crash and froth around a huge dark rock just visible in a torment of backwash. This, Clive said, is grade five, verging on six. Give us the BCU definition, Amal. In his high — pitched voice, the boy sang: Only one line to follow, as with grade four— but harder to find and more technical to negotiate. Failure to follow line is seriously life — threatening. He seemed pleased with himself. Ambulance waiting at the bottom sort of thing, Louise said. Hearse more like it, Amelia added. Wicked! Phil approved. He was excited. Wally says this is nothing to Niagara, Max remarked. He was holding the bear to his ear, as if they were whispering together.

Mark stepped back. It’s not do — able, though, is it? he asked. He looked worried. I mean, like, I don’t see how anyone could get through that. They’d never try. Adam had been gazing with folded arms. Now he invited his son to come and stand beside him. He squatted down, pointed: Punch through the stopper to the right of the rock. There’s just room, okay? You use the hole behind to brake and turn, but without falling into it. Then a determined ferry over to the far side, spin just before the bank and take the next drop where that tongue of water shoots through the debris down into the next pool.

They all considered this hair — raising manoeuvre. Vince tried to imagine the effect of gravity in the drops, the power of the water. Perhaps it was possible. Is this the hardest bit, then? Tom enquired. To look down with more safety, Amelia had put an arm round his strong waist. It was curious how she was both the gawky schoolgirl and the society snob. Louise, Vince thought, has a coarser, franker energy. Let’s go and look, Michela said. She seemed to have cheered up. The sheer energy of the river was a source of pleasure.

They worked their way down a further hundred yards, scrabbling on stones and mud, occasionally pushing through the wet grass to the edge of the gully from which a soft spray drifted upward with the impact of water falling onto stone below. Immediately you looked down, the eye was captured by a kaleidoscopic shifting of dark — green and brown rock, white foam and blue transparent pools.

Fun to be had with the log there, Adam said. He was shaking his head. Life hath many exits, quoted Max. You just don’t have to hit the bloody thing, do you, Phil said boldly. Hard to avoid, Amal thought. A thick tree trunk was wedged between boulders right below a pour — over. Unless you’re mad enough to run river — left, that is. They were all relishing this contemplation of dangers they would never undertake. The water boomed. Almost belligerently, Mark again demanded: But nobody’s ever done it, have they? Sure they have, Clive replied. He had a smile on his face. There’s almost nothing people haven’t done. The boy wasn’t satisfied. He pushed back the hair that fell on his eyes. But, like, someone you know, you’ve seen them?