Wet Desert: Tracking Down a Terrorist on the Colorado River (32 page)

"I don't think he's thinking that far ahead," Julie responded. "Or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

Max motioned at Greg. "Is Julie right? Have you thought it out?"

Greg chose his words carefully. He glanced at Julie,
then
pointed to the shore of the narrows. "Look, you can see how fast the water is moving here. It's reasonable to assume that it's traveling about the same down by the dam, or possibly a little faster."

With all the traffic in the channel, Julie hadn't even noticed the strong current carrying them down the narrows. She looked at the rock walls moving past on the shore and realized they were already being pulled toward the Glen Canyon Dam. It scared her.

Greg continued. "But, at full speed, the Mastercraft can do almost 30 knots, which is way more than enough to overcome this current."

"How do you know it's not way stronger down there?" Darlene challenged.

"The width of the narrows is relatively constant," Greg answered, "and it's the same water down there as it is here."

"Isn't the spot where the dam was built the skinniest part of the canyon?" Paul asked.

Greg shrugged. "Well, yeah, but it's much wider where I would be turning into Wahweap." He motioned at the shore. "It's at least this wide."

"What if you ran out of gas?" Julie argued.

Greg pointed at the gas gauge. "We have plenty of gas. That's why we stopped at Dangling Rope."

"What if the engine stalls?" Darlene asked.

"It hasn't stalled all week."

"But what if it does? You'll die!" Julie said.

Greg stared into his wife's eyes. "Julie, if I thought I was going to die, I wouldn't do it. The engine is running great. I'll be fine."

No one said anything.

Greg continued. "I don't think insurance is going to cover it, if we just abandon it. I think I should try."

Julie knew that Greg would not be able to afford to replace the Mastercraft for years without insurance money. And there was still the issue of the houseboat, for which hopefully, they would not be held financially responsible. But Julie still didn't feel it was worth risking a life. "The problem, Greg, is that there is no trying. Once you go left toward the dam, there's no turning back."

"That's not completely true," Paul inserted. "There's that new marina in the narrows."

"Antelope Point," Greg said, remembering.

"Yeah, you could get off there if you were in trouble," Paul said.

"If we can get to Antelope Point, why are we even talking about Wahweap?" Julie asked.

Paul shook his head. "Antelope Point was never designed to launch boats with the lake this low. You would basically be looking
a hundred-feet
up the cliffs at the launch ramp."

"Wouldn't Wahweap's ramp be the same?" Max asked.

"No." Greg said. "They used to launch boats at Wahweap while the dam was filling. The ramp goes hundreds of feet down."

"But it would be covered with moss and slimy stuff, wouldn't it?" Paul said.

Greg shrugged.
"Probably.
But all you'd need is a power washer to clean it off. Then you could drive right down and grab your boat."

Max leaned forward. "So is that your plan? Just park the boat next to the ramp at Wahweap, and retrieve it after they clean the ramp?"

Greg nodded.

The three couples looked back and forth between themselves.

"And you're dropping us off first?" Max asked.

Greg nodded. "Yes, both for your safety, and the lighter the boat, the better."

Erika spoke for the first time in a while. "But that means you'll be back to the marina
tonight,
and the rest of us will be stuck on the shore through the night."

Greg smiled. "That's the upside."

"I want to go with Greg," Erika said teasingly. "I'd willingly risk my life to avoid a night out on the rocks."

Julie could see that ahead they were quickly approaching the landmass of
Antelope
Island
. The island loomed huge, much larger than Julie ever remembered it before. Judging from the height of the wet marks, she estimated the water levels had dropped over a hundred feet at this spot in the lake. On the left side of the channel Julie saw a ranger boat tied to a rock, its lights blinking. The boat was broadcasting some sort of message that she could not quite decipher at first. But as they got closer, she could understand.

"Danger.
Danger.
Currents downstream near the dam site are hazardous. All boats must detour right, into
Warm
Creek
Bay
, especially houseboats and other slow-moving watercraft. Repeat.
Danger.
Danger."

Slightly past the first ranger boat, another one on the right side of the channel broadcasted a similar message. She could see that ahead most boats were veering right, but a small number were ignoring the warnings and turning left. The sight gave her the chills. When their turn came, Greg turned right with the larger group.

As they passed into
Warm
Creek
Bay
, they could see that it was littered with boats, many of them stranded high and dry around the edges of the bay. Hoards of people were standing around the beached boats. There were trails of people hiking up the hillsides toward Castle Rock. Julie guessed that many had decided to try to hike to Wahweap Marina tonight, a journey she estimated at almost ten miles.

When the boats parted in the large bay, Greg accelerated toward Castle Rock. Julie was nervous about the separation that would occur in a few minutes. A million arguments were running through her mind. Too soon, Greg slowed and brought the Mastercraft up to the shore. He shut off the engine. Without saying anything, Max, Darlene, and Erika started gathering their clothes and blankets.

Paul walked up behind Greg. "I'll go with you."

"Not necessary."

Paul nodded, not waging much of a fight.

Max had jumped into the waist-deep water, and was helping Darlene down. Julie handed the pile of blankets to Max. Erika followed, then Paul. Julie handed Erika's and Paul's shoes to Erika. Greg moved to help Julie, but instead, she sat down in the front seat next to her husband.

"What are you doing, Julie?" he asked.

"I'm going with you."

He looked concerned.

"Are you going to die, Greg?"

"No, but--"

"Then, I'm staying with you." She could see she was making him re-think his decision.

"Honey, there's no reason for both of us to risk--"

She stood and raised her voice. "We both go, or we both stay."

He backed off, considering her statement. "Are you okay going?"

She nodded. "We can always ditch at Antelope Marina, right?"

He smiled.
"Yeah.
And you're not mad?"

She shook her head. "I want to go with you."

He nodded and turned to the others, who had been quietly watching the argument. "Okay, if everything works the way I think it will - and it will!" he emphasized, "--then I'll pick you guys up on the other side of Castle Rock in a half hour. Then I can motor you back to the marina and you won't have to sleep on the rocks." He winked at Erika.

Julie hadn't considered that option. That was better for them. Paul pushed the Mastercraft out into deeper water, and then both couples wished Greg and Julie good luck.

CHAPTER 22

8:00 p.m. -
Hoover
Dam,
Nevada

Standing on the
Arizona
side of Hoover Dam, Grant watched as a line of trucks formed on the winding road from the
Nevada
side. The trucks, loaded with sand bags from construction companies all around
Las Vegas
, had started arriving 20 minutes before. The logistical nightmare was beginning to sort itself out. The original plan was to direct the trucks to turn around, and then back all the way across the dam to unload their sandbags. It was Shauna who had suggested the alternative. Plan B called for the trucks to drive across the dam, turn around on a small access road on the
Arizona
side, then pull back onto the dam. The sandbags from many trucks could then be offloaded simultaneously by a swarm of volunteers and National Guardsmen. After the trucks were all unloaded, they pulled out at the same time, making room for the next group waiting on the hill. The plan meant that sandbags were to be stacked only on the upstream side of the dam, leaving the downstream side open for vehicles. Starting on the
Arizona
side where the east side of the dam abutted into the cliff, and all along the upstream side, a ten-foot wall of sand bags was being erected. Plan B ended up being a huge time saver, since the sandbag dike could be built all the way from
Arizona
to
Nevada
at the same time.

Only after the first phase was done, sometime in the middle of the night, would they go back and extend the dike to its planned twenty-foot height and widen the base to the full width of the dam. And by building the dike in two phases, it gave them much more time, almost a day, before the water rose above the eight-foot first phase dike.

A man with a bullhorn moved along the dam, barking orders. "Overlap that one, soldier. That's it. Right to
left
.
Yeah you."
He pointed to someone placing a bag below him. "Butt it right up against the others or it'll be a weak spot. Yeah, pick it up and move it over. That's it. The stagger gives the dike strength."

Originally, Grant had expected to be in charge of the construction of the wall of sandbags, something he was not confident about, especially since he had never worked with sandbags before. However, the mayor told them about the man with the bullhorn, a retired engineer named Steve Alby, who lived in
Las Vegas
. Before he retired, Alby had actually been in charge of building sandbag dikes along the
Mississippi
for the Army Corp of Engineers. Grant had been more than willing to concede the responsibility to the old engineer who had arrived just before the trucks.

Grant watched as the old man trained the soldiers. He was incredible. He watched the placement of every sand bag. He barked orders through the bullhorn like an auctioneer. When the cops found him at his house a few miles south of the strip, he was working in his yard. They hadn't allowed him to change. So he was still dressed in denim shorts, a grimy white t-shirt, black tennis shoes with contrasting white socks, and a green camouflage hat, which he hadn't been wearing when he arrived. Grant guessed he had been given the hat by one of the soldiers.

When Grant first saw Alby, he wondered if they had made a mistake. The man seemed feeble in his movements and speech. Grant guessed the man was in his mid-sixties. He had short gray hair, bird legs, and a potbelly that peeked out from under his t-shirt. However, after they explained to Alby the goal of the next 24 hours, the man went right to work. The National Guard gave Alby a bullhorn, and as soon as the trucks started to arrive, he transformed from a lamb into a lion. It was obvious he had done this before. When Grant looked at him, he thought he could imagine a much younger Alby, dressed in a raincoat in pouring rain, helping farmers build dikes along the
Mississippi
to protect their farms and homes. Grant wanted to talk to him, to ask him some questions about the dike, but to interrupt him now would be like trying to talk to a conductor during a symphony.

When Grant looked back at the incoming trucks, he wondered if everything could happen in time. These bags came from the construction companies. The bags from the volunteers would come later. The empty bags being flown in were not expected to arrive in
Las Vegas
for an hour or more. To avoid needless chaos, a TV announcement calling for volunteers would not be made until after 9:00 p.m. In the meantime, eighteen sandbag locations had been chosen around the area, and police crews were roping off parking areas, making signs, ordering portable toilets, and generally making whatever other preparations they could think of before they were mobbed by thousands of volunteers.

So much could still go wrong. The extra bags could be late. It could take longer than planned to fill them. Traffic could affect their delivery to the dam. And what if the call for volunteers went unheeded? Grant worried more about the opposite: that they would be bombarded by crowds too large to manage. Even if the plan for sand bags worked, what if the Bureau's numbers were wrong? What if the water rose more than fifteen feet over
Hoover
? What if the water arrived early, before the dike was completed? Grant stared upstream. He tried to imagine the water coming toward him. He imagined a tidal wave roaring across
Lake Mead
. But that wasn't logical. No, there would be no waves on the lake. It was too big and would dissipate the flood. If anything went wrong, it would happen gradually, as the water rose inch by inch until it breached the dam. All violent waves, currents, or flooding would be limited to the
Grand Canyon
.