Tim Parks - Rapids

Claustrophobic, Adam replied. He had his sardonic smile. Place could use some good garden lighting.

Bit of a toilet, if you ask me, Phil sneered.

Vince?

Can’t describe it. He shook his head. What could he say? A great wind was blowing through him. Like a place, he hazarded, I kind of always knew existed but had never been to. Does that make sense? He didn’t look at Michela as he spoke, but saw Clive lift an eyebrow in her direction. There was a squint of anxiety in his expression. The Italian girl’s voice came very flat and clear: Last place on earth, she said. Terminal.

Did we really miss anything? Amelia was demanding of Max. And has anybody got any lipsalve?

Rapid poke in Mother Earth’s old womb, Max said. Core of the universe kind of thing.

Earth’s what?

For Christ’s sake, Phil, where have you been, where did you come from? The womb!

Cunt to you, Brian explained, checking his spraydeck.

Kids, Adam began.

Not exactly, Amelia protested. She pressed a stick of Vaseline against her lips.

Thereabouts, Brian said. And just as wet by the sounds.

You should be so lucky, Max told him.

Cunt is warm, Phil objected.

Unless you’re into necrophilia.

Kids, I said enough!

Then they were on the water again. It was distinctly dirtier now as the rising streams brought down earth from the mountain sides. There were the first bits of debris. A broken branch, a dead bird. Yuck, Amelia said. Bugger off, foul fowl. The creature rolled over softly in the eddy — line, limp feathers outspread. How quiet the valley seemed, Vince thought. The dull roar of rain and river made a strange ferocious hush.

Just before the first rapid, Clive told Phil and Max to go ahead together and scout. First sign of anything really tricky, out of your boats and check it from the bank. This is the definitive four — star test, okay?

The boys paddled off and disappeared over the horizon line. The others chattered. Adam acknowledged that the little cave behind the fall was worth a visit, but didn’t see why Clive wanted to insist on the word mystical. Michela stared glassily into the water: because it was where she and Clive had kissed so passionately three weeks before, she thought. Amelia was asking Brian if they would let him have his four — star even if, with his bad foot, he couldn’t do this scouting business. Then Mark shouted, Listen up!

It was Max’s voice. He was hoarse. Shrieking. Unable to get along the rocky bank, the boy had climbed five or six yards up in thick bushes. Quick! He’s drowning. Quick. Oh God! Hurry. Help!

Clive thrust his boat out into the stream. Adam! With me. Everybody else, stay. The two men were out of sight in a matter of seconds. Max was crashing away again through the trees. About halfway through the rapid, the instructors found Phil trapped under a tree that had fallen, uprooted, across the water, its trunk just clear of the flood, the branches beneath forming an impassable sieve. This was a place to die in. But a man was already out there. Straddled on the trunk in a mass of broken twigs, he had got a hand under the boy’s shoulder, keeping his face just half out of the water. That crazy bloke was waiting there shouting, Max explained later. The boys had gone down over the pour — over, heard him yelling, seen the obstacle and tried to eddy out. But Phil must have planted his paddle exactly between two rocks as he turned. When he lifted it, the blade had gone. He hadn’t even felt it snap. The river had him. The boat was dragged beneath the tree. The water pulled him down into the tangled branches.

With a coolness that was the opposite of his reaction to the violence in Milan, Clive found two half — submerged stones to wedge his boat between, got out and tossed his tackle to Max who had arrived on the bank. In a moment he had brought Adam alongside of him. But for all their competence, with the strength of the current sweeping into the matted branches and the difficulty moving along the bank and then out onto the trunk, it took the men almost fifteen minutes to get the boy free. Meantime, the old tramp held onto his shoulder in the freezing water, shouting incomprehensibly, while the instructors secured ropes to the belt of his buoyancy aid.

Pulled clear, Phil retched and vomited. Never again. He would never get back on the water again. His gormless face was white, lips bloodless, and his whole body shaking. Never, never, never! He shook his head violently. It’s my fault, Clive told Adam. He studied the narrow gorge with its steep banks, the fallen tree. We’ll have to portage.

The kayaks were dragged out with ropes. They must find a way round. At this point it was clear that the person who really ought to have been excluded from the trip was Brian. Safest in the water, the crippled boy couldn’t carry his boat and couldn’t even walk unaided except on a fairly flat surface. Ask the guy if there’s a path, Clive told Max. Wie heissen Sie? Max asked. The man was squatting on a rock with his shoulder bag and rod, filthy khaki trousers soaking below the knees, a sodden raincoat. He had shaved perhaps a week ago. The stubble was white. Roland, he answered. There was a smell to him. He wore boots with no socks. Roland. He grinned now. I’m Max, Max said.

The man began an expansive monologue, gesturing constantly towards the tree. He seemed to be scolding them. Gibt es ein Weg? Max asked. Ein Wanderweg? The man pointed up. Tell him how grateful we are and ask him if he can help us with the portage, Clive instructed. We have someone who can’t walk. Tell him we’ll buy him a meal. Anything.

Max interpreted, but Roland didn’t seem to understand. Max repeated the offer. The man picked up his rod and opened his bag. It stank of fish. I think he’s saying he has to stay by the river. Cius, Roland stood up abruptly and without moving began to wave as though to people already in the distance. Auf wiedersehen, au revoir. It was clownish. We should have scouted ourselves, Adam said. But if his paddle hadn’t snapped … Max objected. We’ll debrief later, Clive said. We’ve been lucky.

The slope above the river bank was slippery with rainwater trickling down through roots and pine needles and patches of exposed rock. Having got back to the main group and then found a way up to the path far above, they arranged a pulley with the throw — ropes and hauled the eight boats more than a hundred steep yards through undergrowth and thickets. Clive lifted Brian on his shoulders and staggered zigzagging among the trees. Keep your helmet on, he told him. Good view, the boy said, ducking his head. Then they regrouped along the path. It was narrow but clearly marked, following the contour of the gorge through slim pines a couple of hundred feet above the river.

The rain still fell heavily. They hoisted the kayaks onto their shoulders. How far do we walk? Back to the minibus, Phil said. I’m not getting in the water again. The others were silent. Each boat weighed twelve kilos plus whatever kit they had. Emergency candy supply, Adam announced cheerfully. He still had a dozen packs of wine gums. Clive carried two boats, one on each shoulder. Brian used paddles for crutches. He seems undaunted. How far? Mark repeated. There’s a sort of chute here, Clive explained. He had run it twice. Too fast and steep to get back in on. Especially in the state we’re in now. About quarter of a mile. Maybe half.

Suddenly they were exhausted, what with the waiting around, the cold, the dragging the boats one by one up the slope. Everyone had a blister, a rash, scratches. Only Vince was still in a strange state of elation. Why had he behaved like that? He hadn’t even told himself he was crazy about her. So why had he shouted it? And why had she kissed him, then hurried off? But he wasn’t really thinking of Michela. He wasn’t sure at all that she mattered to him. His main thought is: When I wake up tomorrow, will I really have changed? Is it over, the paralysis of these awful months? The canoe bit into his shoulder. He didn’t notice. He wanted to speak to Louise, though he couldn’t tell her of course. Phil almost died, he chided himself. It didn’t seem important. Okay, here, Clive eventually decided. He put down the boats. We’ll try here.