Errol clasps my hand, smiling at me with his lips sealed, the expression sweet and encouraging at the same time. Just the feel of his hand holding mine reduces my anxiety. How does he always know what to do to keep me calm? I'm not normally a bundle of nerves, but we are about to descend into a canyon that has high, steep walls.
"Take slow, deep breaths," Errol tells me. "Munro swears Peter is an expert pilot. Trust his skills and try not to look out the windows."
Munro glances back at us and gives me a tight smile. Then he makes the thumbs-up sign. "You're doing fine, lass."
The helicopter descends gradually, sinking below the rim of the canyon, following the serpentine track of the Colorado River. I grip Errol's hand tightly. I'm probably causing him pain, but he just keeps smiling at me.
"Final descent," Munro says. "If you look out the windscreen, you'll see the sandy area where we'll set down."
"Errol said I shouldn't look out the windows."
The man still holding my hand gives it a light squeeze. "If you want to have a peek, go on. We aren't racing across the sky anymore."
"Okay, I want to look. But don't let go of my hand." When he nods, I crane my neck to peer out the windshield. "Oh, I see the sandy spot."
"Best sit back now," Munro says.
I lean back in my seat and bite my lip. Then I shut my eyes because I can't watch if we're going to crash. Logically, I know we won't. The odds are infinitesimal. But my emotional side can't stop worrying.
The noise of the rotors begins to slow down, and soon it fades away.
Errol removes my headset. "Open your eyes,gràidh. We're on the ground."
I peel my lids apart and cautiously glance out the windows. We are indeed on solid ground, on a sandbar, with the Colorado River rushing past. We made it. None of us died.
Errol unhooks my seat belt and his too, while Peter and Munro climb out of the helicopter. Peter opens my door and helps me out. Errol and Munro meet us on this side of the chopper.
I can't resist taking in the surroundings, turning in a circle to get the full experience. I have finally reached the Grand Canyon. Without thinking about what I'm doing, I throw my head back, spread my arms wide, and whoop. I do that three times before I realize the men are all staring at me like I'm a lunatic who just escaped from an asylum for the criminally insane.
"What?" I say. "This is a big moment for me, and I needed to celebrate it."
Errol kisses my cheek. "Celebrate all you want. You've earned it."
I try to help the guys unload our gear, but they insist on doing it themselves. Errol orders me to enjoy my first experience in the Grand Canyon. But I end up watching them instead, because they're hauling a flat, rectangular cardboard box out of the backseat area. I'd noticed that box when we boarded the helicopter, but I'd assumed it had nothing to do with our expedition. I purchased all our equipment, and I know I didn't order anything that isn't already in my backpack or Errol's. My partner also brought another bag that isn't a backpack, but he wouldn't tell me what's in it. Errol just winked and smirked when I asked.
"What is that big box?" I ask, inching toward the men while trying not to get in their way.
"You'll see," Errol says. "It's a surprise."
"Uh-huh. Tell me what it is anyway."
Munro lifts a single brow. "Demanding, isn't she? I suppose you need a lass like that, Errol, so she can stop you from blowing up the entire United Kingdom."
Errol rolls his eyes.
The men set the box on the sand. Munro and Errol say goodbye to Peter, and the pilot jogs back to his helicopter. Before getting in, though, he pulls two long objects out from under the backseats. Peter tosses the paddles toward us, though they slap down on the sand several yards away. Then he climbs into his big machine. Just before he shuts the door, Peter shouts, "Good luck! I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."
Munro tosses the cardboard box about thirty feet away from us, where it splats down on the sand, and waves for me and Errol to follow him as he jogs away from the helicopter. He snags the paddles along the way. We carry our backpacks, but drop them on the sand once we've reached a safe distance.
The helicopter starts up. Within a few minutes, Peter has taken off, and the chopper is rising toward the canyon's rim. Not long after that, the machine has flown out of sight.
"I'm confused," I say. "Are we going to walk up these steep cliffs?"
"No," Errol says with a chuckle. "We're going on a rafting adventure. Ye want to see what Kincaid saw, aye? Well, that means rafting."
"But we don't have a raft."
Munro nudges the cardboard box with his boot. "Actually, we do. It's in here."