Trying to get our oar boats parked in the mouth of Havasu, we camp at Ledges, and boogie down really early – as it turns out there are no trips downstream – except for a science trip. We swing into the eddy – freshly flushed out – to find a 33 S-rig and a Zodiac tied off – right in the way.
But Ellwanger, with his wild red hair and bloodshot blue eyes, and Kirk Burnett and a swamper are on their rigs and graciously help our peeps from our boats onto theirs, onto the Muav ledges. Those bridge pontoons do come in handy sometimes. Billy and Kirk are doing a September science trip, studying sediment (there was plenty of it in the river) and contouring the river bottom. At the moment, the scientists are fiddlefarting around up Havasu Creek and the boatmen are hanging by the river, savoring a little privacy.
Our peeps gather on the ledges, take off their pfds* and tie them in a pile and get ready to spend a day at Havasu, peeing, topping off water bottles, trying to decide how dry a wet hike is, etc. No other trips are in sight, a nice cool fall day. It doesn't even look like it'll flash. One guide starts leading the hikers, while the other guides finish securing the boats in the mouth. Rendezvous at the first crossing. Then we hear it.
A blood-curdling, gawdawful scream from downstream. Something none of us had heard before, but all of us recognize.
The lead hiker runs back, and dashes downstream. A passenger runs to grab some pfds. Billy and Kirk stand up on the motor rig, looking downstream. The boatmen tying up the boats scramble to shore, falling into the creek, getting tangled in ropes. A desperate shout comes from the mass of peeps standing around helplessly. “Swimmer!”
Billy dashes to the Zodiac, rolled up bluejeans and flops, and starts the 50-horse. Kirk grabs 2 pfds and jumps in the boat. The swamper goes for the rope and starts fumbling with the knot. Billy glances up, grabs his knife, cuts the rope, and hits the throttle.
Skipping across the brown, muddy waves, full throttle, Billy heads downstream to where a boatman is pointing. There! No, under again, There! On the eddy line, fighting but losing, under the surface, then up, limp, face up, then face down, then slipping back under.
Billy gets there, but she's gone, kaput. He hovers, looking, hoping to not make mincemeat, when she floats up again nearby, limp. He can't get there right away, so he tells Kirk to jump. He does.
And Kirk grabs her, Billy gets them back both back into the boat, she's breathing on her own – although she (a beautiful lady from nyc on a repeat trip) doesn't remember much of the last few moments. True professionals, they remember their hypothermia first aid and quickly get her stripped down, flesh to flesh with Kirk. Billy supervises – and once he's satisfied that all's well, motors back up to the creek.
There he was, John Wayne in a Zodiac, riding to the rescue, saving the lady, then, aw shucks, ma'am, anyone woulda done the same, motoring into the sunset.
Ellwanger an angel? Unlikely as it might seem sometimes, Billy had on his halo that morning. Doing the right thing at the right time, Billy and Kirk saved a life. Thanks guys.
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