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Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Color

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Grant nodded. "Oh they'll open all right. They just need a little help. We need to get some demolition guys in here."

The governor came back to life. "Let's get this straight, you want us to blow up the spillways?"

"That's exactly what I want to do governor."

He looked skeptical. "How much difference exactly would it make, Mr. Stevens? Are you sure that your boss, the commissioner, would make the same recommendation?"

Grant could see that attitude was as natural to Rally Jenkins, as breathing was to the general population. "Governor, I have no idea what the commissioner would recommend. I would hope that he would make the same recommendation, since it's the only possible strategy. As far as what difference, the report said sixty feet of water would breach this dam. We have two things going for us here. First, the report assumed the dam would be full as a worst case scenario, and second, we have a twenty four hour warning to dump water, of which we have already wasted almost three hours." Grant slowed down and tried to choose his words carefully. "Governor, if we can reduce the amount of water that ends up going over the dam by — let's say a few feet, it may be the difference between Hoover Dam failing or not."

Grant saw Fred walk over and peer into the spillways, then glance back at the wall holding the water from entering. He put one of his fingers in his mouth and looked like he was going to chew on his fingernail. Like waking from a trance, he straightened, bringing his hands back down, and looked at the governor. "He's right, Governor. I agree with Mr. Stevens."

The governor looked around the group for dissenting views. He also turned and looked at the concrete spillways. He spun and looked back at the crest of the Hoover Dam itself. Grant wondered if the governor might be visualizing sixty feet of water going over the top of the dam.

The governor held out his hands. "Anyone know any demolition guys?"

12:50 p.m. - Dangling Rope Marina, Lake Powell, Utah

As the Mastercraft rounded the bend in Dangling Rope Canyon, Julie saw the marina. It was unbelievable. She had never seen it that crowded before. Boats were stacked triple deep around the dock and there were at least a hundred people mulling around on the platform.

Dangling Rope Marina, which is accessible only by water, had limited resources. The floating docks were configured like a big cross, with a small grocery store, restrooms and a ranger station at the intersection, a sewage pump-out on the right, a repair facility on the left, a ramp to the shore on top, and the floating fuel station midway down the long bottom section. A state of the art photovoltaic power generation system on the hill powered the marina, with battery backup and propane generators for sunless days.

Greg pulled back the throttle and stood up in exasperation. "What's going on?"

Paul stood behind him. "This is crazy."

Julie touched her husband's arm. "Do we have enough gas to come back later when it's not so crowded?"

He shook his head. "No, Julie. Besides, something's wrong. We need to find out what it is."

He accelerated toward the frenzy of boats. When they approached the dock, Greg slowed to minimize the effect of the wake. Julie saw arms waving and she heard yelling as they approached. She heard someone say something about whose turn it was. Suddenly, a blue boat exited recklessly from the mass, and after seeing daylight, sped past them aiming for the main channel. The cluster of boats collapsed immediately, filling the previously occupied space. Julie guessed that the blue boat had either finally gotten his fuel, or had given up waiting.

When the Mastercraft pulled up next to the other boats, Greg called out to the driver of the boat next to them. "Where's the end of the line?"

"There isn't a line," the man said. He motioned at the mass. "It's every man for himself."

Greg grimaced. "What's going on anyway? Why the crowd?"

The man perked up. "You haven't heard about downstream?"

Greg shook his head. "No. We saw the water had dropped, but we didn't know why. What happened?"

"Somebody blew up the dam!"

Julie wondered if she had heard wrong. "What?"

"So the dam is leaking?" Paul asked.

The man exaggerated a nod. "The dam is more than leaking, it's gone."

"The Glen Canyon Dam is completely gone?" Greg asked.

"Yup. That's the word." The man motioned at the other boats. "And everybody is filling up and heading out before they get ―" The man was interrupted and yelled at the boat behind. "Hey, watch it buddy."

Julie looked at her husband. "What does that mean? Should we just go?" She wondered if they had enough gas to get back to Wahweap where the truck was parked.

Greg checked the gas gauge and shook his head. "There's no way. We don't even have enough gas to make it back to the houseboat."

Paul interrupted. "Are you sure we should even try to leave?" Wouldn't it be safer to just wait it out?"

"Wait for what?" Greg asked. "To get stranded someplace up here on the rocks, fifty miles from civilization?"

"Yeah, but if we head down river, we could get pulled over the dam, couldn't we?

Julie didn't like the way that sounded. "Maybe he's right Greg."

Erika nodded.

Greg turned back to the man in the boat next to them, who had been listening to the argument. "What are you guys doing?"

The man pointed south. "As soon as we get some gas, we're heading home. We might not make it to Wahweap, but we're going to try to get as close as possible, Warm Creek maybe, Padre Bay for sure."

"Wouldn't it be safer to wait for help?" Paul asked.

"From who?" The man said. "Do you have any idea how many people will need rescuing? You could be waiting for weeks."

Greg looked at Julie. "He's right honey, we need to take care of ourselves."

Paul nodded as if he concurred.

Julie looked at the mob of boats waiting for gas. "Well, we better get in line then."

1:15 p.m. - Grand Canyon, Arizona

Keller told the rafters to paddle hard at the shore. David felt the raft nose up onto the sand. The landing had been small and a little tricky and they almost missed it. The rock cliffs and sandy beach looked enticing. Named Elves Chasm, the place featured a small stream that trickled through white and orange rock walls. According to the guidebook, Elves was located at Grand Canyon mile one hundred sixteen. A large waterfall, one of many at Elves, was visible just two hundred yards from the landing. The water seemed to flow right out of the rock then fall about twenty feet into a pool at the bottom. Half way up, there was a big cavern in the rock behind the fall, which Keller said they could climb up into. In the mist of the small waterfall, green plants covered the rock walls, more like a rain forest than a desert. It was one of the most incredible sites so far on the trip. Keller said that Elves Chasm continued above the lower fall with more falls and more small pools.

Judy expressed what David felt, "Wow, it's so beautiful."

They were all tempted to run toward the site, to explore it, but they were hungry. It was after one o'clock and they hadn't eaten since breakfast.

"Let's eat first," Keller said. "Then you guys can climb into that hole above the waterfall and I'll take a picture of you. We'll hang out here for a couple hours. There's more waterfalls and pools upstream from the main one." He looked directly at Becky and Sam. "It's very romantic up there."

Sam blushed enough to make the others laugh, but Becky showed no embarrassment.

"When are we going to meet up with the other raft?" asked Sam.

That morning, the group in the other raft, had decided to sleep in. They had seen Elves Chasm before and were feeling lazy. So the guides had agreed to separate.

Keller motioned upstream. "When they finally get up, they'll meet us here. It'll give you guys some time to explore Elves."

Afram popped the top on the cooler "All right. What's to eat?"

Keller looked confused. "I thought you guys were doing YOYO for lunch."

"Screw YOYO," Afram said smiling. "We'd all starve and you know it."

Keller gave in. "All right, who wants to make the sandwiches?"

No one actually volunteered, but everyone in the boat pitched in and helped. Why not? They were at an incredible spot and the mood was upbeat.

1:30 p.m. - Dangling Rope Marina, Lake Powell, Utah

Julie checked her watch. They had been waiting for gas at Dangling Rope for almost forty-five minutes and there was still a crowd of boats ahead of them. This was taking way too long. Additionally, the wind had started blowing, which was typical in the afternoons at Lake Powell. Patience was wearing thin in all the boats, and numerous arguments about who was next had taken place. The gas pumps had been operating non-stop since they arrived.

Dangling Rope's gas pumps were self-service with a slot to insert credit cards, and there were a total of eighteen pumps. On a big day, the marina pumped twenty thousand gallons, but Julie thought today might be a new record.

"What if they run out?" she asked.

Paul shook his head. "They better not."

While waiting, Greg had continued to nose the boat closer to the dock. Now they were pinched by boats that had arrived after them. They were committed to pump #11. A small yellow boat had just replaced the nozzle in the pump, and was trying to back out of the slip. The crowd of boats made his exit very difficult.