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Bewilderment

Historical accounts referred to the cascade as Bewilderment--not Bewilderment Falls--simply Bewilderment. Legend has it that an early explorer, beset with hunger and fatigue, stumbled into the hidden basin where the river plunged over an escarpment. To survive he fed upon unknown plants and fungi that grew in the misty defiles near the falls and drank from the plunge pool. That night as he rested near the falls, a moonbow appeared in the spindrift that bathed the chasm; a pale glow danced in the bemisted light. Transfixed by the spectacle, he stood and slowly spun round and round and round as he looked to the apogee of the falls. Spellbound by the outrageous beauty and wildness of the place, he remained there for eight days.... Or so goes one early story of how the falls was named.

Ten years had passed since he and Daniel ventured to the falls. That was the first time he'd seen them and he remembered the wonder that filled him that day. After parking their truck where an old logging road ended, they followed a faint trail that paralleled the rushing river for miles. Using makeshift carriers fashioned from old backpack frames, they hauled their boats and gear on their backs. It was an arduous task, especially after the trail vanished and they were left to bushwacking; it took them the better part of two days. After reaching the falls, they unloaded their boats and dumped the paddling gear plus a small rucksack of basic climbing equipment on a flat boulder that rested at the base of the scarp. As they gazed in awe at their surroundings, they realized they stood in a realm so daunting--yet so magical--that it defied explanation. When they turned their eyes upward to where white plumes fired out from the heights, they thought they saw--pulsing and wavering in the whiteness--the face of a dragon. Soon the image became clearer and they knew that it was a dragon--their dragon.

Now, as he lay back on the large boulder from which they had staged many years before, head resting on his backpack, he remembered how on that day Bewilderment rendered his complex life down into an element of crystal clarity; his world of family, friends, and career--those things apart from their epic adventure--had temporarily ceased to be. He also thought about what this sport--although paddling was of a greater importance than mere sport--meant to him. Perhaps it was the escape it provided from the hustle of life in the twentieth century and certainly it was a mental sanctuary. But he dwelt not long searching out the underlying reasons for his love of whitewater, for his was more of an intuitive way of reasoning; he knew simply that it appeased a strong, atavistic urge embedded deeply within his very soul. A few kindred others, like Daniel, felt it, too.

" HEY, MAN! CAN WE HAVE THIS ROCK?" a voice shouted over the mesmeric thunder of the falls. "Name's Joe Kyle from Ad Extreme Productions," he continued, quickly extending a hand. "We've got lots of folks involved in this shoot and our window is small--maybe two hours--to get it all done while the light is right. We've got to get Johnny K and his kayak to the top--hired some climbers for that. This is a big deal, you know. Mitsasushi Motors has a big fall promo-push planned for their new SUV, the ATC--that stands for AquaTerraClassic. Man, we took some primo footage coming in; the ATC absolutely busted that big creek crossing and we slung mucho rock coming up that old road! Jeeezus! That was some grade--and rough, too--but I know we got at least two miles farther in; didn't have to walk as far with all this equipment. Hey, that's kind of what the ATC is all about: getting you closer into the heart of nature! The Guinness people have a vested interest in this thing, too. We have a thirty-five meter waterfall here, my man--contemplate that for a minute! Plus there's beaucoups of smaller sponsors and that's why we've got to catch this good light, so we can pick up their decals on Johnny K's kayak and gear when we cut to slow-mo during his big dive! 'Course the guys shooting stills will get good shots with their motor-driven telephoto SLR's; gotta have something for the slicks, you know. So, now that you know where I'm coming from, you can understand why we need your rock here, my man... THANKS A MILLION!"

He arose and stepped back out of the way as the boulder became crowded and a cacophony of conversations and the sight of gearbags being emptied ended his reverie. He swung his backpack to his shoulders then dropped to the well-worn trail below, almost colliding with two men carrying a bright orange kayak. Close behind them another individual walked, alone. He passed silently by this trio and continued down the trail to where it veered into the woods. There he stopped and turned, looking back at the magnificent place that was so special. But the panorama was filled with a marked dissonance as he watched the spectacle of colored ants going about their tasks. The sight evoked the memory of a Bible story from his boyhood--was it from Matthew?--where the temple had been turned into nothing more than a cloister for buyers, sellers, and moneychangers.

Continuing down the trail, he tried to make some sense of it all. Was he being selfish, wanting to keep this magical--this revered--place to himself and a few like-minded friends? Was he an anachronism--a throwback to a time when a remarkable experience was measured within ones own heart and to have been allowed the experience at all was reward enough. Then perhaps it was an aversion to the crass commercialism that seemed now to invade many heretofore sacrosanct quarters--but who was he to judge how a person pursued a livelihood? Could it be that there was a new order dawning that he was unwilling--or unable--to embrace?

As he walked down the twisting trail, tangled thoughts filled his mind....

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