and Paul looked at each other. Michaels took a deep breath and blew it out with a huff. “I think she’s dead set. We’ll just have to fix her up the best we can.”
Paul nodded. He called another ranger in from the back room to hold the fort and we followed him into the room housing the radio station. Paul took out an orange two-way radio, popped the back off and dumped the batteries in the trash. He then went to the refrigerator, pulled out new batteries and inserted them into the radio.
“I’m not taking any chances. You’re going to stay in touch, right?”
“Right.”
“Cell phone charged?”
“Yup.”
“You know how these things work. I’ll be here days, Larry will be here nights. I’ll inform him that you’re out there and he’ll keep an ear out for you. Test it just to make sure it works and test it just before you hit the trail. Check in every day, rain or shine, preferably on my watch. If you haven’t called in and Larry doesn’t hear from you by midnight, he’s gonna be calling me and you don’t want that to happen. We’ll keep a log of your calls, what time they come in and where you are.”
I pushed the button on the radio. “Test, test,” I said quietly. I hated the sound of my own voice across a radio. It never seemed right to me.
“Here’s the GPS system. This shows your location. The coordinates appear here and here. Keep it on you at all times. We don’t care where your pack is. We want to know where you are.”
“Is this supposed to tell me where I am or you where I am?”
“Both. If something happens we’ll know where to look.”
“Then why the radio?”
“A dot on the screen is not an update. We want to know you’re okay out there. Some of us wimpy guys just gotta hear your voice. And if you find Green, we’ll need instructions.”
I clipped the radio and GPS system to my belt.
When we pulled into Piney Point the campground was nearly empty. A motor home had taken one of the nicer camping spots with a big rock off to one side. It’s funny how a single rock or a stand of trees can make or break a site. A young couple on motorcycles and camping in a pup tent had the spot next to the camp host. We rolled on quietly through the campground. It was still early. The couple was up making coffee. No one stirred at the motor home. At the trailhead we stopped at the first parking spot.
“Do you know where Green’s truck was parked?” I asked.
“Vaguely.” He opened the side door to the Explorer and pulled out a cardboard box. From the box he pulled out a worn pair of work boots and a framed photo of Green and his wife. “This is Kelly and his wife, Rhonda. He’s about six one, a hundred and ninety pounds. Here his hair is short, but by the time you find him it’ll be down over his collar. I asked his wife about any injuries he had, and she only mentioned a climbing accident from five years ago when he bashed up his ankle. He’s got a long, ground eating stride.”
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