Jen's Legacy.

The former mine workings had left waste-heaps everywhere where the ore had been picked-over before being winched over the gorge to join the mining operation from the other side, to be carted into Culver. That cable was still there, over the river, but the pulleyed carts, used to move the ore out of the mine on the north side and across the gorge, were rusting on the bank on either side, and the trail that had once seen several carts each day move along it, had suffered from the weather and neglect, and was impassable now for anything but walkers.

Mineral collectors found the place a treasure trove of oxidized copper minerals; the green Malachite, blue Azurite, but not the hard, blue, precious Turquoise that the Indians most valued. That, was found elsewhere.

Others brought radiation meters in, to scout for uranium, which had been part of the ore from deeper in the mine, but it had been ignored and thrown away as gangue; waste, and of no value, by the early miners who knew nothing about it. It was a bonanza for mineral collectors. There were places where their radiation meters chirped wildly and were driven off-scale, actually making some people nervous. They were the younger, ignorant, and more easily-spooked collectors, shy and fearful of this noisy mineral and its supposed dangers, while the wiser oldsters smiled at them, and continued to load-up, while sitting in the midst of it all.

Had the mine been closer to a road or a city, the health faddists would have flocked there in their thousands and have paid to sit in the radioactive air of the mine galleries. There, they could breathe in the radon gas and be bathed in radiation, just as they did in abandoned mines in parts of Colorado. Despite the mindless and ill-informed fears about this misunderstood, invisible radiation, others continued to enjoy the warm, radioactive springs of Europe, much as they had for the last two thousand years since Roman times, as the rich and famous ‘took the cure’ in the various spas, and drank its radium-laced waters.

The Parks service had posted warnings everywhere about the dangers of going into the old workings because of rock-falls, and they had also put metal grills across the entrances to keep adventurous youths out.

They had also posted the river banks all of the way from Marsden, downriver, warning of the gorge ahead of them, from which no one had ever emerged alive after being dragged into it.

At the narrowest point, just a couple of hundred feet upriver from the mine adit, the park service had built a suspension walking bridge across the river. It was anchored to each bank by metal rods drilled deep into the bedrock on either side, and had been constructed to last, having been positioned high enough not to be carried away by entire trees that sometimes were carried over it in the spring freshets.

There were three metal hawsers down each side, with slats to walk along, across the lower two, each one tied securely with no more than an inch gap between them, and with ropes woven like fishnet up each side to stop small children squeezing through. It had become a sightseeing place, but only by those hardy souls that could tramp the last few miles from Culver across rough terrain, and provided they were not too nervous or overawed by the noisy majesty of the place.

Claire was nervous about going across it with that hundred-foot drop at her feet, almost as intimidating as that climb she had done with Royce.

“We camp on the other side, about a quarter mile back from the beaten track.”

He had done this walk with Jen, and with his father, years earlier, and knew how to avoid everyone and to stay back from the sightseers.

He detected her nervousness.

“It’s safe.” She wanted to believe him.

“I’ll go across first, while you watch me. I’ll leave my pack over there and come back for you and take you over with me. I still have a rope loop with me. I can tie us both to that if you like.”

She nodded. She had no choice.

He came back to her carrying one of his rope loops with its attached carabiner.

He would piggyback her over; that rope, looped around them both, tying them together. She would have her eyes closed until she dared open them, gaining from his confidence and his constant commentary about the wonders of it all.

She grew more nervous when he paused in the middle and spoke to her, causing her to open her eyes, as she took a tighter hold around his neck.

He wasn’t going to cater to her nervousness, knowing that she would soon get over it, just as she had on that climb, having no choice about that, either.

From the middle of it, he pointed out ‘Lover’s Leap’, on the far bank, also known as ‘Mitchum’s Leap’ (after one unfortunate victim of that place), and ‘Tilting Rock’. Aptly named when one or two hardy adventurers stepped on it, causing it to tilt slowly to a slightly steeper angle before it came to rest. There was a chain link fence around it now to keep daredevils away after several accidents on the slippery, wet surfaces that had cost others their lives.

He told her some of the history of this place, where lovers made their wishes and said their vows to be true to each other, and that if ever they betrayed those vows, they would feel compelled to return and throw themselves into the gorge, or stand on the tilting rock to be judged as to their fitness to continue in this life.

She didn’t want to be reminded that this was where Royce had planned to end his own life. She could not bear to think of that. Had there been any other way across the river, she would have suggested it.

Others returned here on anniversaries to renew their vows.

She noticed various cloth decorations tied all across that central part of the bridge on the metal hawser, with others tied at the edges by those too timid to venture out onto it.

She asked.

Lovers again.

He pointed.“Jen and I made our vows to each other here, and tied that green ribbon there.” Just as others had done. There were hundreds of them. She noticed a hair-ribbon wrapped around the cable, away from the others, wrapped around it many times and tied securely. It had survived the intervening five years. He and Jen had left that here; done this together. That fired her up with enough courage.

Jen had done this. So could she.

“You can let me down, Royce.”

He was surprised. “Are you sure?””

“Yes.” But she would hang onto his belt.

He turned into her and held her close. “I’ll hang onto you.” He could feel her heart beating against him as he looked into her eyes.

“You are being very brave.”

“Thank you. I can hold onto the side rails.”

They stood in the middle with her holding his belt securely with that rope still around her, looking down into that boiling foam, mesmerized by it as she regained her confidence, her heart beating like a trip hammer.

No one could survive falling into that. No wonder the Indians had revered it as a holy place, and still did.

She was thoughtful when they got to the other side, walking slowly and steadily, aware that there was a slight sway to the bridge as they walked.

“Royce?” That was the first question she’d asked all day in that way he had grown to look forward to; especially considering what often seem to follow that question as they got closer together and he answered her as she wanted him to.

“Yes, my love.”

“We could leave a marker of our own. Say our own vows. I would like to.”