WAITING FOR THE CREEPER: Part Two
If You Are Waiting To Die, How Long Do You Wait?
DEER CREEK - AU RESERVOIR!: PART TWO
Gareth and his sister used to make up words as a young boy in England. The English have a humorous love affair with language. Sometimes it was just fun to mix two words. So it was with reservoir and the French phrase, Au Revoir, meaning goodbye. Au Reservoir it became. As children, they laughed loudly at their new words. It seemed innocuous, but it was to become goodbye in the reservoir on this day.
He was sure of it. He did not want to die; it was true. No, now he was sure he wanted to end it all. Gareth could not cope with the grief. The anguish. Not another minute, not even a second. It was not only what he had lost. It was also the reason why. Almost sixty percent of his life had just vanished in one quick phone call and gone forever! It disappeared just like that! The other forty percent? Well, that had gone a long time ago. One of the reasons both of them got married so young was to escape from their family homes. Affection had not been there for her, and fear was ever-present for him. Maybe they could finally find love, respect, and safety together? However, little did they know then they were already damaged goods. They did not know it yet.
Gareth did not remember driving the long straight lane from Midway to the reservoir. A four-mile ride with nothing to distract him except his thoughts. The radio was blaring loud music, but he was not listening. Then Dido started singing her classic song, White Flag. He listened now. The chorus destroyed him, "I will go down with this ship," she sang. Stopping the van was a nightmare. He could not see through all the tears. Slowing down, he skidded to a stop. He should not have had any tears left. He had cried every night, all night, every night, all night, every freakin' night, all freakin' night until finally sleeping as the sun rose. He had not slept in their bed since she went. "It was ours, and I did not want to sleep without her," he said. He slept on the floor next to the phone. "You never know; it might just ring, and I need to be there," he said. His daughter had suggested unplugging the phone and moving it closer to the bed so he could sleep. Gareth did not dare remove the phone cord from the wall; in his mind, that would be exactly when his wife would call him to say she was coming back!
The radio continued playing. Although with loud driveling gulps mixed with frequent pleas for help, shrieking loudly, Gareth did not even notice the radio. Driving anywhere in this condition would be impossible and not safe. It was safe for the moment by the reservoir side; he shut off the engine. The radio continued to play. As Gareth looked out over the vast mass of water, he again heard a familiar tune. He wanted to turn it off but found he could not. It was almost as if the radio was his modern-day scourging punishment. The music continued, and he collapsed once more. It broke into the chorus, "Time to say goodbye." Although initially a love song in Italian, when Andrea Bocelli sang the song in English, all Gareth could hear was the heartbreak and sadness of saying goodbye to those you love. He could no longer stay sitting in the van listening to that damn radio. It was getting warmer too. There was nobody close to where he was parked, so maybe being in the open air would be better. Closing the van's sliding door, he walked a few yards to the low concrete barriers surrounding the reservoir's east side.
The reservoir has over eighteen miles of shoreline and is six miles long north to south. The various State parks and picnic areas sit on the east side next to highway 189. People of all ages sit and fish any time of day. Many people in the parks were legitimately there, while many more illegally crossed the concrete barriers overlooking the water. Over on the west side of the reservoir remains the railway track of the original Denver and Rio Grande rail line. All of this picturesque scenery sits in front of the gigantic Mount Timpanogas. If you gaze across the mile of buffeting water at certain times of the day, you will see a steam locomotive, just like Casey Jones used to drive. It lumbers along on its way from the Heber City depot to Vivian Park down in the canyon. A sixteen-mile trip usually takes about an hour each way. The steam engine pulls or pushes a few boxcars typically filled with passengers reliving 'old western' days long ago. It's a fun ride, although it can be expensive. Gareth had ridden on the train years before with his wife and young babies. Little did he know what part the 'Heber Creeper' would play later in his life
PART THREE of this story will be published midweek. Follow me on Medium email, and you will receive notice of when you can read the dramatic part of this true story! Thanks
© Stephen G. Arrowsmith 2022
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