Adventure Contributor Alex Stoy tells the story of his own Central American escape.
WARNING: This piece contains some salty language and a drug reference or two. If you're offended by that, you might want to pass on this one.
“Good morning. I’ll be your pilot today taking you safely to the destination of your choice.”
Soft and sweetly, the straight haired Spanish brunette with creamy olive skin sitting extremely upright in Seat 23A shyly replied, “Ok” and opened her book “The Emperor of all Maladies- the biography of Cancer” page 102.
It’s been a long stretch without travel, adventure and alone time. I needed to escape my everyday life, the life where travel had been replaced with a career, play exchanged for work and life put on hold for what, I don’t know. Needing change and a new direction, I sought out an old friend and colleague, Professor McNally.
Professor McNally has always been there to guide me through rough and troubled times. When he said move to Utah, I packed up the car with all my ski and mountain bike gear and headed West from Pennsylvania. When he said there was a plane ticket waiting for me at the airport for Argentina, I quit my job as a Botanist and spent 3 weeks skiing and backpacking in the Andes and drinking wine in San Rafael and Mendoza. When he said ‘wikki wiki,’ off to Hawai’i I flew for a little Na’ Pali Coast. The Professor has always been full of quiet wisdom and advice and of great insight to the roadmap of my life, a very trustworthy friend.
Sitting in his old-world office full of adventure stories and memorabilia, I took notice of something time-tested, stiff and soft. I reached over the old oak desk to grab a nickel-plated dart, 6-inches long with iridescent green and translucent silver feathers hanging from the tail. The Professor told me “many members of the original American colonies signed their names on this desk,” as he caressed the desk with his leathery hand as if he was caressing his intimate lover. I paused, wondering if I should pray to that, then continued with my outreached hand and took the dart.
“Oh that. Have I ever told you about the dart? “
I sat back in his olive green leather chair with arcing cherry armrests, lifted my glass of Mendoza Malbec, a gift I gave him when I returned from Argentina and said “I don’t think so.”
“That comes from the Havasupai Nation of the Grand Canyon. Have you been yet?” Professor McNally is always gifting me places to go.
“Yes, the waterfalls are very beautiful.”
The Professor continued, “Sitting on top of the falls with Chief, he handed me that dart and said to throw it into the gleaming Caribbean colored pools below. ‘If it returns, then let it guide your way through life.’ So I threw it thinking it would somehow magically fly back like a boomerang into my awaiting hands. Instead, it just disappeared into the frothy waters below. ‘Did you think it would fly back into your hands? Crazy white man’ Chief said.”
“So, how did you end up with…?”
Cutting me off, “A few days later, when I was jumping off the melting red rocks of Beaver Falls, I noticed something more shiny than the waters of the great Havasupai, so I dove down to the bottom and guess what I found?”
“Really? You found the dart? That’s a good amount of river to cover for something this weighty?”
“Of course I didn’t find it. I found a cheap, imitation Rolex. Must have been from one of those Las Vegas scenic tours, you know, the ones that fly you in with your khakis, button-down collared shirts, laptop and all that?”
“Yes, I know! Ridiculous.”
“No, I found that soon after I threw it. The waters are so clear, you can see anything!”
I softly rolled the throat of the dart between my rough skinned hitch hiking finger, my ‘go in that direction’ finger and my f#$k you finger and felt its weightiness. The green and silver Mallard feathers are straight out of a Kama Sutra sex kit, soft and ticklish. ‘Maybe one day,’ I thought to myself.
The Professor interrupted, “You came to see me. You must be struggling. It’s the only time I see you these days. Waddya need?”
I place my head heavily into my hands, moving my facial skin in circles and ran my fingers from my forehead across my stressed out face and down my jugular veins.
“You know what to do Stoy. You don’t need to come see me for the same old answer every single time you need adventure and escape from life’s realities.”
As I lifted the Havasupai Dart eye level, I had no response. I just spun the throat clockwise between my fingers, closed my left eye as it never sees straight, peered with my good right eye right into Professor McNally’s mind and with the flick of my right wrist, I let it fly directly in the direction of Professor McNally. He didn’t flinch, never has and never will, keeping his back against the wall, stern and straight, letting the tip of the steel cold dart leave another scar on his already wrinkled and pock-marked face.
Stay tuned for Central American Epic Part II.
Alex Stoy is an adventure sports junkie who has been exploring the world for over 25 years. Stoy lives in Park City, UT and is always on the lookout for 'idiotic adventures' including running, yoga, ski mountaineering, canyoneering, mountain biking in random and off the beaten path locations like Argentina, Colombia, the desert southwest and Rocky Mountains of North America as well as interior Canada and Hawai'i.
Stoy's writings capture his life experiences through his own eyes and travels. His goal is to bring people the most intimate view of what it really is like travelling and adventuring in his shoes which are sometimes buried in a foot of Death Valley sand or fresh Wasatch Powder.