the vanishing stone ch 1-4

8/2/2019 The Vanishing Stone Ch 1-4

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The Vanishing Stone

The universe moves ever forward, on and on.The Vanishing Stone brings it back around again.

The Wise One

The p l a c i ngThe slender being looked around and smiled, seeing it was good. Hewas far from home but surrounded by an unparalleled naturalsplendor. The sky was azure, the moist air refreshing. Good country,this. A land worth surviving in.

He observed the local fauna, busy at their daily tasks of acquiringnourishment. The being especially enjoyed watching the large bi-pedal predators. They appeared to be quite fierce and well adaptedfor killing. These beasts would make a good match for a Torkabackhome. If only one could be captured alive, the being mused.

However, he was here on an important mission. Enough withinteresting thoughts in this chaotic and virile environment. The WISEONE had given him specific instructions and HIS words carried great

weight. Best just to get on with the task at hand and reluctantlyleave this place.

The being leapt gracefully out of the large tree, making no sound atall. He moved with great stealth, attracting no undesired reptilianattention at all. As he approached the desired locale, the being feltthe first pangs of remorse that always seemed to surface on missions


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such as these. They had always told him that killing and death weremerely parts of life but this did not make the sadness any morebearable. Such was his task, such was his burden. On with it then.

Crouching low behind a large fern-like plant, the being reached intohis small equipment pouch and produced a curious object. Now, inhis delicate palm, was a brilliantly glowing sphere of deepestemerald.

A faint humming accompanied the radiance emanating from thesphere. Deftly the slender one placed the sphere on the ancient soiland sat back to wait. It would not be long now.

Several patient minutes passed and then there it was, a sound thathad been described to him many times. A shrill, piercing cry thatrose above the countless others. A hunting call perhaps, or, awarning? The being now drew another object from a sleek sheath onhis back, a wickedly sharp blade of charcoal black. He was quiteready, as always.

The sound drew closer, intense and perhaps even frightening.Movement in the bushes now, though barely detectable. This was a

clever beast, a skilled hunter. As was the slender being.

The stone remained in the center of the small clearing, the humbeckoning the creature to come closer. Suddenly, in a furious releaseof steel-strong muscles the creature burst into the clearing, preparedto claim yet another meal. Yet, puzzled now by the absence ofpromising fresh meat, the great beast hesitated. The slender beingmoved like liquid, before the creature used its keen senses to locatehim. The charcoal blade of smooth sharp metal found the vital

arteries in the creatures neck and it was done. The being movedback to allow the death throes to run their course. Those were verysharp claws the creature possessed, no time for an injury now.

Silence. The slender being retrieved the small sphere, undamaged bythe fray. He took a moment to gaze at the creature, his fellowhunter. An imposing specimen though not in size. This was a hunter


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of great magnitude and undoubtedly few prey could resist it thoughtthe being. He would not have wanted to engage it in a fair match.No, not at all. The wicked talons on one toe of each foot could easilyslice through both hide and armor. The thick muscles of the upper

thigh had propelled the creature far through the air to deliver thekilling blow. The rows of teeth in its mouth were serrated, recurvedand meant for business. This environment had truly bred someformidable organisms thought the slender being. A welcoming fact tolearn in this endless galaxy. And pleasing.

The being extracted what appeared to be some kind of herb andspread it over the carcass. He raised his hands high and utteredsome sounds in his own proclamation of the hunter over his prey.

Reverence and respect was paid that day.

Back to business. With the skill of some otherworldly surgeon thebeing quickly opened the beasts skull in a swift motion. Grimacing heextracted the reptiles brain, the most powerful weapon in this beastsarsenal. With great care the being took the emerald sphere andplaced it firmly in the beasts skull. The fit was immaculate, aspredicted. The hum had now changed its pitch, a dull thrum. Theglow remained. The being dug a worthy grave for the worthy beast.

Covering the odd treasure, the beings work was now done. How longwould it take before the treasure was found once again. What wouldfind it? The WISE ONE had guided him in this. HE must know what itwas all about. So the being gazed around once more, drew a deepbreath and disappeared into the underbrush.

Time to go home.

C h a p t e r O n e D i s co v e r yThe Badlands. Stark, beautiful and ..


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Holy shit Frank, you better get your ass over here and look at this!I hollered over the bracing wind of that afternoon.

What now Mike, find yourself another piece of amber? came

Franks fourth skeptical reply of that day.

Nae laddie! You are not going to believe this one man. Come on! Ipleaded as I tried to solicit my friends help in identifying what Ihoped was to be a grand dinosaur fossil discovery.

It was the hottest day of the dig yet. And that summer was ascorcher. We were heading into the end of August, the time of truthin the dinosaur-digging business. The Badlands of Alberta were

forgiving rarely and merciless consistently. And today proved therule.

As I swept the sweat from my brow and pleaded with Frank to comesee what I prayed was what I hoped it was, a rare cool breeze wasfunnelling up the Red Deer River valley. A brief reprieve. Andhopefully a discovery. We had been scouring this little patch of hellfor the past few months as part of a contract for the local provincialmuseum. A small team; quick, efficient and passionate about what

we were doing. Fossil hunting zealots that wouldnt conform to thepolitical rigors of life in a large museum, but happy to take theirmoney nonetheless.

We had already extracted the agreed upon partial ankylosaurskeleton and were spending the last few days looking for otherbeasties. Now it seemed I might just have had some luck finally.Usually keen-eyed Frank found all the goodies, like he had radar orsomething. Today was my day however. Little did I know.

Frank ambled over the rough terrain separating us with ease. Allright Mikey-boy, watcha got?

Well mate, I owe you a big-beer at the waterin hole if this aintsome wrist material of a wee therapod.


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We had always been hoping to find rare fossils as we went about ourduty to the big boys at the museum. Hardly ever happens but younever know. A new species perhaps, or at least more material to addto the growing body of knowledge. But soon we were going find

something far more unique, unprecedented in human experience.

Let me see about that boy-o! said Frank, having already foundmore of these critters in his lifetime than was fair. He knew whatthey looked like.

Christ man, you werent kiddin me this time. Thought the heatmighta got to you! But nope, looks like we may have a partial semi-luminate carpal of perhaps Deinonychus. Shit man, way to go, we

may be on to something here! proclaimed Frank in honestexcitement.

About time I came up with something eh? Rather than just beingthe bugger that carves these things outta the sandstone for you! Thisfeels pretty good man. I said somewhat victoriously. I had alwaysprided myself as not so much as a digger but rather an artist,sculpting the fossils out of the rock. But now it might seem that I hadfound something special at last!

We quickly set out upon devising a plan to extract this little predatorydinosaur, no room for mistakes here. Frank surveyed the sandstoneslope that had served as sanctuary for the fossil for countlessmillennia, gauging and assessing what was going to be needed here.I took photos from every useful angle I could envision that we couldstudy later on the computer. A couple of entries into the nifty littleGPS unit helped mark the location as well.

Its getting a little late in the afternoon to start a full scale extractiondont you think? I asked Frank after our discussion yielded the manyhours of work ahead of us.No doubt it is Mikey-boy. I hate to leave this baby here unattendedfor even one night with all the trouble lately. But we really shouldhead home and plan properly for this I suppose. admitted Frankreluctantly. Frank was referring to a problem occurring in the area


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recently where black-market fossil hunters would find and stealfossils being excavated by legitimate agencies. One recent incidentresulted in the vandals stealing several teeth from a rare specimenand adding further insult by smashing the valuable skull material with

a rock hammer. This was poor behavior at its finest and an unwantedthreat to our operations.

I may have a way to keep this little girl safely out of sight I toldFrank as an idea popped into my head. As I had only exposed a verysmall section of the fossil, my idea was to camouflage the find withthe very sandstone I had discovered it in! I grabbed a few chunks ofthe sandstone and smashed it to small pieces and grains. I quicklywhipped up a glue-like concoction with some of the acrylics we use

to preserve the fossils. Covering the exposed wrist fossil with agenerous amount of good ol fashioned toilet paper as a separatinglayer I then smeared the fake sandstone cap over the specimen.

What do you think? I asked Frank with a satisfied grin.

Well Mikey, mused Frank. I think that its good to have an artsy-fartsy along on any dig! That should do it. And nobody could possiblyknow we were here or what we have discovered, er, what you have

discovered! So with that we gathered our gear and headed out onour half hour hike up the 400 vertical feet of Horse Thief Canyon.

A wonderful part of every day in the Canyon was the grueling hikeout of it. It was a kind of daily rite-of-passage to make your way upand out of the tan, wind-swept landscape. My first impressions of thisunique environment were formed early on in my life on a visit here asan over energized 8 year old. I feel like Im walking on Mars I hadtold my very patient mother. 20-odd years later climbing out that day

I still felt the same way.

As you make your laborious ascent out of Horse-Thief you arerewarded along the way with breathtaking vistas, each one havingits own impact as you gain altitude; none disappointing. And everycorner you take yields a new marvel on a smaller scale as well. Wehad come to name the various rock formations and hoodoos we


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came across every day and welcomed each one as being one stepcloser to a cool refreshing beer at the waterin hole. Hoodoos areespecially fun formations as they take on the appearance of wise oldhermits pondering away the fading light. As we rounded one familiar

bend a favorite hoodoo of mine came into view. Tall, proud andsteady I had named this 10-foot tall stone structure The Wise Onefor it seemed to be pondering the very nature of the universe. Andthis time, seeing that hoodoo gazing to the unknown, I recalledsomething from earlier that day. A faint humming came to my mind,was it when I had discovered the fossil? Or was it that beautiful coolbreeze that came to visit so briefly?

Well Mikey, this daily hike surely helps us stay a little younger eh?

Not to mention the fact that we pursue the same dreams now forreal that we did as kids! And a cold beer at the end of the road donthurt none either said Frank with a satisfied look on his face, bringingme out of my reverie.

Frank, as tired as this makes me each day with this god-damnedpack you make me carry, it also makes me feel as if I could take onthe world somehow. You dont get this feeling commuting to work intireless traffic each day in the city. Can you believe this splendor is

our office? was the best response I could muster. We were indeedlucky lads to have such a gig.

And we reached the end of the trek with good feelings in our hearts.A sheer 80 vertical wall of soft rock that we had long ago cut crudesteps into was our last obstacle, and provided the most amazing viewof the Red Deer Valley that any photographer would pray for. Out weclimbed and headed back toward town for that revered cold beer.

Chap t e r Two .M i n ima l l y Adap t edThe very droplets of moisture running down the side of the colossalmug in front of me made me smile. The little ram-shackle office outof which we ran our humble business had as a feature its proximity


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to The Waterin Hole. A very down to earth establishment short oncreature comforts but boasting a liquid treasure locals had come tocall The Big Beer.

Dont drink that all in one place Mike! said the waitress as shescurried off to tend to other thirsty patrons.

I smiled again, hoisted the brew to meet Franks own raised mug andand said Heres to sedimentary rocks and the wonders they maycontain!

You got that right Mikey-boy. Good thing it seems to be a naturalhuman behavior to want to dig in the dirt. From the sand box to the

oil rigs, there we are digging away said Frank and then took a longpull from the Big Beer.

Another part of our daily routine out here in Canadas scorchingBadlands was the great philosophical discussions that arose from toomany hours in the hot sun combined with too many mugs of cold ale.We were quite possibly half delusional at the end of each day but itsure made for some fun talk.

You know boys, I believe you started your little fossil enterprise asan excuse to avoid the real world with real jobs in suits and ties!Somehow you have convinced people to pay you to essentially dig inthat sand box from your youth, albeit with a little more skill andprecision said a large fellow seated to Franks right.

This was Eric, a gentle giant of a man that had wandered into ourshop one rare rainy morning when no excursions were planned. At 6foot 6, Erics stature belied his impassioned interest in the natural

world and the fact that he was a professor at a small college inOregon. Nearly a full foot taller than myself, I had looked up at himas he stooped to fit into the doorway and asked Welcome to Paleo-Quest, how may I help you sir? He had been hanging around withus ever since. Eric was on sabbatical and genuinely loved what wewere doing. He was willing to lend a hand with our daily grind inreturn for experiencing real fossil work and was developing quite an


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eye as a fossil hunter in the process. I came to affectionately call himEric the Well-Read.

I pointed an accusing finger at him in mock confrontation Indeed,

and this would be the same reason you left your suit and tie back inPortland. Although I cannot imagine you ever being a little boy, Ibelieve your heart also remains with your favorite plastic pail andshovel from youth!

As Eric laughed at that, Frank stood and signaled for another round,OK, OK. Thats about enough about sand boxes. Sorry I brought itup. Remember my cat also digs in the sand box to cover its duty andmy daughter finds that with her favorite plastic shovel!

Laughter rang out from the three of us as the relaxing effects of thecold beverages took hold. I looked around the place and felt thatgood feeling again. Modestly decorated, the Waterin Hole had largewindows that offered a nice view of the Badlands in which the smallcity of Drumheller sits. The Badlands is a term for the areasurrounding Drum and reflects the unique landscape that has beencarved into Albertas rolling prairies by the Red Deer River. The playof light off the sandstone cliffs in the early morning or evening is

magical. I lifted my mug in a silent toast.

Hey Glenn, over here exclaimed Frank waving as he spotted afamiliar face amongst the various groups of oil riggers and myattention was brought back to my table of friends.

Now here was a lesson in contrast I thought to myself as our friendmade his way over through what could safely be called the rabble.Dr. Glenn Stark was an academic born and bred and now waltzed

comfortably past the sweat stained oil rig workers. He was theCurator of Paleontology at a large museum in the American Mid-Westwho had joined up with us to survey the Canyon for a potentialfuture excavation. A marine reptile specialist he brought a wealth ofknowledge to our evening discussions and didnt mind having a BigBeer or two himself.


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Ahh, so what were you three so brilliantly discussing in myabsence? asked Glenn as he grabbed a seat next to me.

You happened to miss a very poignant talk concerning sand boxes!

I said with a little smirk.

Glenns face lit up, Excellent. I fondly remember my own sand boxat home growing up. I one time thought I had made a majordiscovery and ran into the house with it to show my mother. Ofcourse, she pointed out that it was a filthy cat turd and chased meout of the kitchen with it! Imagine that. That evoked another roundof laughter from all of us.

Now that all of us were gathered together I gave Frank an inquisitivelook, wondering if and when we should break the news of thediscovery. We trusted our companions entirely and would need theirhelp to successfully excavate the fossil. Frank, as the leader of ouroperation, took the hint and said Listen up guys, we had a ratherremarkable afternoon, me n Mikey did. From first inspection it lookslike Mikey here may have found some wrist material from a smalltherapod, possibly Deinonychus or the like. We didnt get very farinto it but the lay of the slope looked promising for more material.

And if she is facing the right way in, we may have a crack at a skull.

Grinning happily, I pulled the camera out of my tattered field bagthat I religiously took with me everywhere and handed it to Glenn,cueing it up to the photos of the fossil itself. With anticipation Iwatched as the Ph.D. looked over the photos.

Hmmm. Yes. You see the curve there, would be in the wrist,allowing great flexibility of that appendage. Unique among these

therapods and indeed birds as well. Some use it as a strong chladisticargument of their possibly phylogeny, meaning of course, a possiblerelation or common ancestry between certain families of dinosaursand birds. Excellent. Well done. I would like to help with theproceedings if I may!


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Well that helped confirm Franks assessment though I had been surehe was right and my excitement built. Well that is a sweet thing.We have hopefully found ourselves a skeleton of one of Naturesperfect little hunting machines. This will be the best excavation yet

eh, I said, my enthusiasm quite evident.

A fine hunter yes, Mike, perhaps one of natures finest. But notperfect. No, no. said Glenn with his usual conviction.

What could you mean Glenn? I exclaimed. I cant see describingthose little dinos as anything but perfect. I was reading the othernight about various animals at various stages of geologic time andhow they might seem ridiculous today but were perfectly adapted to

their respective time and environment. Take that crazy shovel-tusked, elephant-like gomphothere, he would look ridiculous in a SanDiego zoo but he managed to do quite well for hundreds ofthousands of years no?

You must be more selective or more current in your readings MikeGlenn fired back, building up some steam. Of course oldgomphothere did well as you put it but it, as with all species, wasonly minimally adapted to its environment. It had the minimum

biological hardware and behavior to accomplish its evolutionaryimperative of deriving enough nourishment to reproduce.

Excuse me Glenn, but are you saying then that, say, a lion is not aperfectly adapted hunter of the savannahs? questioned a previouslysilent Eric.

Ah. Yes. An excellent example. A lion, formidably armed withmuscle, claw, fang and behavior still selects the weak or young of the

wildebeest herd to prey upon. This is sensible for the risks are thusfar fewer to the hunter. The lion doesnt need to pick out thetoughest wildebeest in the herd and take it down to show off to thegirls. Indeed the girls are doing the hunting anyway. The large 500pound males grow large to fight of other males of their own kind. Again for reproductive reasons. And the herding behavior of the


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wildebeests is their main weapon for reproductive success, not theirhorns.

But, say the rains fail to come one year and the grasses grows poorly

or not at all and the wildebeest and zebra herds take a differentmigratory path and then what do the lions do? Sure they hunt othergame as well but lets say that decades pass with their main foodstaple absent from their territory. Chances are the lions will adapt orrelocate but can they do it fast enough and still produce enoughhealthy offspring as they compete with other prides? Too drastic anenvironmental change and the lion may have a problem regardless ofits great skill at bringing down certain savannah ungulates. Do yousee asked Glenn as he took some time to pull on his ale.

Well let me ask you this then exclaimed Frank pointing to a relicspear hanging on the wall, What about Homo sapiensthen? Are weminimally adapted too? I could name a few heads of state ofpowerful industrial nations that likely would disagree with that.

Aha. Glenn seemed ready for this reasonable argument. I admitthat humans are indeed an anomaly in the grand scheme of nature.The reason for this is of course the development of culture for that is

our greatest adaptation. But even culture allows the various walks ofmankind to minimally adapt to their respective environments. We dothe absolute minimum to sustain our settlements though it wouldseem otherwise. It would not take long for our weaknesses tobecome apparent if you disabled the power grid for the easternseaboard of the U.S. for example. I hope that our biological drive toadaptively develop new cultures based upon new situations wouldensure survival. I suspect it has in the past.

Well I still think that our little fossilized hunter is perfect, the perfectfossil at any rate I proposed to soften our debate a little.

Mike, I think that your discovery today will cap off an exceptionalsummer for all of us offered Eric with his usual well-placed concernfor others. We should focus on figuring out the best way to learn a


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little more about this spectacular little beast that has so graciouslypresented itself to us.

Cheers to that added Frank as we all finished off the last of our Big

Beers. With bellies and minds full of ales and our unique bar-roomdiscourse we headed over to the shop to plan our strategy for thecoming work. And as we walked out into the fading twilight ofanother late summer day in the Badlands, I found myself wonderingabout what Glenn had said; are we humans also minimally adaptedfor life on earth?

C h a p t e r T h re e T h e S h o p


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The Shop. Headquarters for our little business venture. It was a smalllittle section of an old Drumheller building that had been convertedinto a odd collection of shops intended to lure the multitude oftourists that visited each summer. T-Rex Music was among my

favorites and there was a little art store in there as well.

Paleo-Quest, our fossil excavation and retrieval operation, had beenformed a few years earlier by Frank, myself and Dr. George Larimie.George was perhaps the most personable academic I had ever met.He was down-right fun to be around most would say. He was bothmentor and friend to Frank and I and had taught us everything weknew about geology and how to run a dig. George had been amammal guy and studied the saber-toothed cats of the southern

states but had a soft spot for dinosaurs as well. George had passedaway the previous year and Frank and I had sworn to keep our littlebusiness going as long as we could.

Paleo-Quest derived its primary income from contracts granted bylarger North American museums to excavate fossils for research anddisplay. The Badlands of Alberta are arguably one of the richest fossillocalities in the world. Frank and I would locate potential specimensand organize excavations with prospective and interested facilities.

We worked closely with the provincial museum here in Drum andwere careful to not tread on any toes. That was Franks department;negotiating the complex rules and regulations concerning fossilexcavation here in Alberta.

Since we were based out of Drum and knew the region well, wecould direct and assist our client museums excavations and savethem a great deal of expenses in the process. It costs a lot of moneyto put a crew in the field 500 miles from home. But to us, Drum was

home. So we were able to make a modest living doing what we lovedbest, digging in the sand.

Frank unlocked the door and we stepped into the slightly mustysmelling room inside. Lets have a better look at those photos Mike.I want to have a better look at the slope and the general lay of the


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land around the beastie said Frank as we moved towards our ratherout of date computer.

I handed Frank the camera and crossed the open space of the shop

and approached the little work space I called my own. The oldbankers desk was a messy affair with drawings, art supplies andlarge mounds of modeling clay competing for space and attention.Several small dinosaur figurines I had sculpted on those rainy dayscrowded a little shelf overhead. I took the little velociraptor figure inmy hand and thought about the coming excavation with anticipationwhile the others began looking at the photos. Placing the figureback with its companions I then grabbed a lump of clay and beganfashioning a small model of the area where we had found the fossil. I

have a pretty good memory and after a few minutes I had aworkable representation of the locale.

Frank printed out a good shot of the site and came over to my workstation, the others in tow. Hey thats a fair mock-up of the site,Mike. Lets see if we can plan the first days work. What well need todo first is to remove this part of the slope above the critter here andwith that Frank used his ever present Bowie knife to remove aportion of the top of my model.

Great. What took you two seconds to do here will take four hours todo out there I remarked.

What, youre not going to let a little concrete-like sandstone get inbetween you and your prize are you Mikey challenged Frank?

Frank and I had known each other for over ten years, having met onone of Dr Larimies first digs out in Drumheller back in the early 90s.

He was a bit of a conundrum himself. No-nonsense and oil-rig tough,Frank relentlessly pursued his passion for all things fossilized. He hadamassed a collection of literature that any professor would envy andhad likely read all of it too. He possessed the keenest eye I had everseen and loved to scour the Badlands for hours and days on end.That combination of skill and determination helped contribute to hisgreat success in finding new discoveries with an almost clock-like


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consistency. Some amongst the local museum crowd called him alucky maverick but I suspect that was just their envy of his naturalgift speaking.

True enough. A bit of pick-axing in the morning is always a delightI suggested sheepishly. Actually I rather enjoyed the strenuousmanual work that accompanies any excavation. Good, honest workyour grandfather might be proud of if you could explain to himexactly why you were digging up apparently useless rocks. Helpedkeep a fellow fit as well. Indeed, having just turned 30 I may havebeen in the best shape of my life. The daily hikes in and out of theCanyon over the weeks had built up my stamina nearly to my oldhockey-playing days on the frozen sloughs of Manitoba.

Dont worry Mike, youll have help in this endeavor. Lets gather upwhat well need for the morning offered Eric, ever thoughtful andpractical. He could move a lot of earth when he set his mind to it butEric much preferred entering detailed notes in his field book andstudying maps.

After 20 minutes of shuffling about the shop we believed we hadassembled the required supplies for the next days work. Over the

past few days we had gradually been bringing a bulk of our field gearback to the shop as fall approached so we were quite selective withour choices: a bag of plaster, rolls of burlap, picks, shovels and thatprecious and heaviest of commodities; water.

Frank looked over the assembled pile and said Well, that should getus started. Lets meet back here at the shop at 7 AM sharp and wecan load up the ol wagon in the morning. Im bushed so lets call hera night folks.

So we headed out into the still night and made for our respectiveplaces of rest. Frank had a house and family here in Drum and Ericwas renting a small suite for his two month summer stint. Glennsmuseum had put him up in the posh Jurassic Inn for his few weeks inAlberta and I called a friends refurbished garage home. I hopped onto my well-used mountain bike and figured that a small boot around


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town would help clear my head. Rest well lads, Ill see you upon themorrow I said as I sped off into the night.

The streets were deserted as I made my way down to the path by

the river and the cool night air felt refreshing after the days heat.Tomorrow was going to be a great day and I thought it just might bethe best fossil Id worked on yet. But for now I emptied my head ofthe many details involved in the work ahead and just rode. I had noway of knowing it was to be the last ride for a long, long time.

C h a p t e r F o u r D e s c e n t i n t o t h e C a n y o n


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Dawn in the Badlands. The customary stunning view of Horse ThiefCanyon wasgone. Seemingly due to an unusual combination ofhigh humidity and cool air, a thick blanket of fog had crept into the

Red Deer Valley that morning. It looked like you could just walk outoff the edge of the cliff face and make your way over across thevalley.

Now thats odd Glenn was the first to break our perplexed silence.Seems someone has taken our canyon away!

Have you ever seen anything like that before Frank queried Eric. Ihave never associated fog with the Badlands before

Ive seen fog here before in the spring but not a thick bank like that.I half expect to hear a foghorn from a tugboat or somethingexclaimed a bewildered Frank. Going to be an interesting hike downI suspect.

Be kinda cool if we had hang-gliding equipment I suggested. Idlove to soar out over that eerie silence

Picks, shovels and 40 pounds of water dont lend themselves well tohang-gliding Mike pointed out Frank. Sorry to spoil your fun. Welllets saddle up this gear and see if we can actually get down to thesite.

Right then, down we go added Glenn for good measure.

The trek down that first 80 feet is challenging enough under idealconditions, especially with a 50 pound backpack as a convenient

counterweight. This abnormal fog would not only impede our sightbut likely make each step slippery. The Canyon was essentially alayer-cake of varying deposits of sedimentary rock laid down some 80million years ago during the last great days of the dinosaurs. Tansandstones, grey mudstones, rusty ironstones and pale greybentonite alternated in a colorful sequence that leant to thedistinctive beauty of the place. Bentonite, essentially formed from


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volcanic ash, becomes a hellish olive-drab vaseline-like affair whenwet as was the case now. We were going to have to be cautious.

We hefted our respective burdens and Frank led the way down as

usual. Sensing a Kodak-moment I quickly grabbed the camera andtook a snap as his lower half disappeared into the fog. This wasgoing to be a strange day it seemed. Glenn and Eric followed nextand then I took up the rear, our typical arrangement.

Even sounds seemed somewhat stifled with the thick fog. I couldbarely hear Franks occasional curses down below me or even thesquishing of Erics footfalls directly ahead of me. A little disconcertingindeed.

Frank, whats your report from down ahead? You know we couldjust hang out a bit and wait for the sun to burn this stuff off I calledout somewhat anxiously.

I think well be OK once weve gotten down this first bit so becareful and theres no rush. Well reconvene when were done withthese steps. All right with everyone Franks reassuring voicesuggested from somewhere down below.

Roger that I somewhat reluctantly agreed. I was carrying the waterof course. As I weigh only 160 pounds soaking wet, the load I carriedequaled almost a third of my weight. One false move on my part andId go down, taking Eric the Giant down with me in the process nodoubt. I was not about to let that happen.

Several minutes and a few close calls later we had regrouped on therelatively level sandstone terrace that offered more secure footing.

OK. So far so good. Only a kilometer or so to go said Frank. Andhopefully the sun will clear this up a bit like Mike suggested.

The four of us continued our way down the winding path that wouldlead us eventually to our discovery. The going was much slower thannormal, of course, so I decided to strike up small talk with Eric a littleahead of me.


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You know Eric, you are pretty nimble for a large fellow I offered asan opening. You move around these hills with, I dare say, somegrace, even in this blasted fog.

Why thank you for noticing Mike replied a pleased sounding Eric. Ihave done my share of hiking over the years. The area aroundPortland is full of great trails and splendid scenery, though nothingthere directly compares to the distinctive beauty of these Badlands. Ilong ago decided I would try to remain active and escaping to theoutdoors was the way I chose to accomplish this. So you see comingacross you guys has been a stroke of good fortune for me indeed!

For us as well my friend I agreed. Say, Ive been meaning to askyou more about that sea-kayaking youve done out on the Puget.That must be a truly wonderful experience to be at one with the sealike that and perhaps a little scary too, no?

Ah, Mikey-boy, you have not truly lived until youve paddled for afew hours alone on the ocean. Of all the wonders and mysteries ofthis world, the ocean has to be the greatest. Just to be a visitor onthe surface with only your strength and skill to rely on is quite a

feeling. No motors, no mechanical noise. no sound at all save forthe delicate swish of your paddle strokes as you glide along. And youstartle far fewer creatures that way so are rewarded with greatopportunities to see wildlife. I have seen sea lions, sea otters and yeseven whales from not too great a distance. A marvel indeed.

That sounds great Eric I said honestly. One day Im going to comeout to the coast and visit you and force you to take me out withyou.

It would be my pleasure to introduce you to..

Aw shit came an exasperated voice from further ahead. Frank hadtaken a bit of stumble it would seem. Frank never stumbled, not oncein the five years we had been working these cliffs had I seen himeven momentarily lose his balance. Damn iron-stone pebbles. Didnt


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see them because of the fog so be careful around here he warned.The iron-stone deposits, or siderite, eroded into small jagged pebblesthat actually helped ones traction on a dry day but becametreacherous when combined with wet bentonite.

Thanks for the heads-up I yelled. You Okay fearless leader?

Yeah, yeah. Just pissed off for the moment exclaimed Frank. Justhappens to be the spot with that convenient drop off too.

As we made our way further into the canyon I decided to leave theremainder of the kayaking conversation for when we reached thesite. With each deliberate footfall I started losing myself in my own

thoughts. The excitement of the upcoming excavation and theforeboding fog had my mind racing. What if this little fossilizedcreature just happened to be a new species? What if Paleo Questcould help author a paper on the beast? What if.. wait a minute;the familiar but peculiarly altered silhouette of The Wise One cameinto my view. The fog had done nothing but add to its already other-worldly appearance but there was more. It seemed almost as if therewas the palest green glow around the thing. Impossible, it must be atrick of the light, maybe reflecting off the greenish bentonite or

something. I tried to focus on it more clearly but then the glow wasgone. I shook my head and turned my attention back to the trailahead of me.

Eric I dared to ask, you didnt notice anything weird about thatlast hoodoo did you?

Mike I can barely see Glenn 6 feet in front of me replied Eric.Mayhap one too many big beers last night got you feeling green this

morning?

Heh, heh. That must be it I responded unconvincingly. This dayjust kept getting stranger and it was barely eight in the morning. Iwas starting to wish this fog had never come our way for we wouldlikely already be at the site.


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We continued on nonetheless, all of us eager to set up ourequipment and begin the work ahead. But I still couldnt get thatweird glow out of my head.

the vanishing stone ch 1-4

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