Day followed day for a week as the rafts descended the Canyon. Mostly, the days were easy; gone were the rushed days above Phantom Ranch, when the party had been racing to catch up with the one ahead. Normally, Canyon Tours took eighteen days to run the 240 miles between Lee's Ferry and Diamond Creek Wash; this trip was scheduled for thirteen, and the race through the upper Canyon and the layover day at Bass Camp had erased most of the extra five days. Now, they could return to something resembling a normal schedule; there was time for long stops, with long hikes up side canyons, time to explore some of the hidden places of the Canyon, time to just sit back and wonder. They stopped frequently, at places like Elves' Chasm, where a trickling little stream wound down through a rugged slot filled with greenery; like Deer Creek Falls, where a stream rushed through a narrow slot and plunged down well over a hundred feet to a pool just above the main river; like Havasu Creek, where a long, twisty hike wound for miles upward past waterfalls, around and through pools to an exceptionally spectacular one. There were still rapids, though somewhat muted after Adrenaline Alley until they reached Lava Falls days later. Running Lava was a rush, but everybody rode the rafts through it, bucking and yelling with the thrill.

Finally with everybody a little down at the adventure coming to an end, there came an afternoon when they stopped a little early in Lower Granite Gorge just a few miles shy of Diamond Creek. It would be their last night on the river, their last dinner together, their last campfire; tomorrow, after a short run they'd meet the bus and the flatbed truck that would haul them back to Flagstaff, and on to Phoenix.

There was a good hike from the camp, not as spectacular as some, but good for a last hike. All but a handful of the party were soon working their way up a side canyon toward a great overlook from a prominent mountain. By now, Crystal was used to Myleigh's going off alone with her harp at almost every opportunity; on two or three occasions, she'd snuck up close to hear the mysterious music her friend was playing, but never for long. By watching though not discussing it with Trey, she realized he had continued the practice, too.

So it was something of a surprise to see Myleigh hanging around camp while the hikers were out. It was hot that afternoon; Crystal and Trey were both wearing swimsuits and little more while they stood at a folding table, peeling potatoes for the last dinner, when Myleigh walked up to them, also in a swimsuit. "Crystal, might I have a word with you?" she asked.

"Sure," she replied. "These spuds can wait. I can stand a few minutes in the shade."

"Trey, I should appreciate it if you could join us," Myleigh continued. Crystal glanced at Trey, who shrugged; both of them put down paring knives and followed Myleigh off a few feet into the shade of some trees, out of the blistering heat of the hot Arizona sun. They sat down on the ground and let the cool breeze up the Canyon cool them.

Crystal wound up perched on a convenient rock. "Got something on your mind?" she asked.

"Yes," Myleigh said. "I have a question to which I would appreciate your reaction. I have from time to time observed the both of you watching quietly as I have struggled with Brown Bess the last two weeks, and I appreciate your forbearance in allowing me my solitude with her."

"We could see you wanted to be alone," Trey responded, obviously wondering as much as Crystal at what was going on.

"Yes I did, and I appreciate your consideration. Doubtless you have been wondering what I have been attempting to do."

"Now that you mention it, yes," Crystal smiled.

Myleigh sighed. "This has been a most unusual experience for me," she started. "Am I not correct that you will have an eight-day break before starting your next trip?"

"Yeah," Crystal said. "Trey too, since he's going to be on my crew. That's going to be the longest break I've had during the season since I've been here."

"As I believed," Myleigh nodded. "What I am wondering is what you might think Al's reaction would be to my asking to joining you on your next trip."

Crystal shrugged. "It probably could be worked out. Got hooked on this place, huh? I knew you'd like it, but I never figured that you'd get addicted to it like I am."

"It's not that," Myleigh said. "Fascinated, certainly. But, that's not what I have in mind. Trey, Crystal, I know that this will sound esoteric and mystical of me, but I feel I have been hearing the Canyon attempting to talk to me through Brown Bess. I should like to attempt the trip again with Blue Beauty, that I might hear it better with her in my hands."

Crystal looked at her for a moment. Yes, this was a strange thing for Myleigh to say. While she was a talented person, even strange in ways, "mystical" wasn't a word that fit her very well. "From what I've heard," she said finally, "It's been saying some powerful things to you."

"Yes," Myleigh said. "As you know, Brown Bess is a new instrument to me, and I do not feel as comfortable with her. With Blue Beauty in my hands, I think grander things will be heard, enough so that I want to attempt to capture the experience."

Crystal watched Trey's eyes open wide with the comprehension of what she was proposing. "Yeah, you might have something there," he smiled.

"Trey," she asked, "Would you know if there's studio-quality recording equipment that could be used in the field for such a project?"

"I'm sure there is," he said with a nod. "I'd have to look into it a little, but right off the top of my head I think it'd be best to go to straight digital and not try to mess around with tape. There's good stuff out there, but it's not cheap. The biggest problem is to come up with microphones that aren't going to have problems with wind noise, but they're out there."

"Yes," she said. "But I don't think I could recapture the experience in a studio, and I think that I should want to capture the song of the wind, the water, the sound of the insects, the music of nature. I feel it is a part of the whole harmony."

Trey frowned and looked at her. "You wouldn't happen to be thinking 'album,' would you?"

Myleigh looked down at the sand. "I confess I haven't even considered it that far. Yes, I suppose there might be a possibility of something of that nature. Perhaps I am just being whimsical, but in these past days, I have felt less a musician than I am a vehicle that brings a message out of the strings of Brown Bess."

Crystal looked over across the Canyon at the brown walls beyond. If she hadn't known Myleigh as well as she did, hadn't heard snatches of the music that she had been playing the last several days, it would have been different. Finally, she spoke. "I think you might have something there. Let's go talk to Mom and Dad."

* * *

Al Buck had come to the Canyon with a bad knee, a legacy of Vietnam. While he was a riverman, he enjoyed hiking in the Canyon -- but thanks to the knee, he did it in small doses. He could do a big hike with a lot of climbing if he had to, but normally only did such ventures rarely, maybe not even one a trip, and he wasn't on today's hike. As it turned out he and Karin had found their own breezy spot in the shade of some tamarisks, and were just stirring from an afternoon nap when Crystal found them and told them that Myleigh had an idea that they'd like to hear about.

Myleigh didn't know Al that well. She was a little shy about presenting the idea of taking a second trip with Blue Beauty and recording equipment, but Crystal and Trey filled in some of the details as the five of them sat in the tamarisks along the riverbank late on that hot afternoon.

After he'd heard the details, Al took off his hat, and stared out at the cliffs above the river before smiling at Myleigh. "You know," he said, "I've heard a little of that music you've been playing. I thought at first you were just playing something I hadn't heard before, but after a while I realized that you were just doin' it as the inspiration struck. That right?"

"Essentially," Myleigh said. "When I sit down and attempt to connect with the Canyon, I know nothing of what will result. I find the experience intoxicating, but otherwise indescribable."

Al smiled at her. "Been there and done that," he said. "That may have something to do with why I've never been able to leave this place. Every now and then I'll get this incredible damn urge to just get out the guitar and play my feelings. It's always sounded good to me, but when I get back to camp, much less the house in Flag, I just can't re-create the music."

Myleigh had been acting very shy up to this point, as if people would think her crazy, but now she brightened. "You know, don't you, Al?" she said in astonishment.

"No, it's you know, don't you, Myleigh?" he grinned. "I can't explain it either. Couple times I've thought I might take a tape recorder and try to capture it, but I never got organized enough to do it."

Myleigh shook her head. "I really feel uncomfortable with the thought of not trying this," she said finally. "I think it's a case more of that it wants to be done, rather than me wishing to try it. My only fear is that if I set out to attempt it with the intent of recording it, I'll get out there with Blue Beauty and the inspiration won't arrive. Then I should feel most ashamed to have asked you to go to the extra trouble."

"Aw, it's worth a try," Al said. "If it works, fine. If it doesn't, it doesn't. If it's any help, maybe you'd better concentrate on the inspiration, rather than the mechanics of trying to record it. Trey, you know about that stuff, don't you?"

"Not exactly my field, but close," Trey said.

"That's what I thought," Al grinned. "Maybe you'd better run the recorder back out of Myleigh's sight some place, and just let her concentrate on what the Canyon is trying to say to her."

"Al, I really appreciate your understanding," Myleigh said. "I really don't wish to put you to extra trouble. Since Trey will be going anyway, I shall be happy to pay the full price to go on the trip."

"Might be a problem with that," Al said. "I'd have to check it out back up on the rim to be sure, but I think the trip is booked full. The park service limits us on the number of passengers we can have on a trip." Then, he broke into a broad grin. "Of course, if you went as crew, a swamper or something, we could get around that. If those jokers from Colorado Expeditions can advertise a string quartet, I don't know why we couldn't advertise a trip with a professional harpist."

Myleigh looked pleasantly surprised. "Why, thank you, Al. You need not be that generous, but as far as I know, I shall want to return here again. This has been a most interesting trip."

"They're not all quite like this one," he grinned, giving Karin a squeeze on the shoulder. "All I ask is that if an album does come out of this, that you mention Canyon Tours on the cover somewhere. That way I can write it off."

Myleigh grinned back at him. "If an album does result, I think perhaps that can be arranged."

* * *

Nine days later, Crystal, Myleigh, and Trey were again sitting in the shade of a grove of tamarisks, this time far back up the river at Lee's Ferry, while waiting for the tour group to arrive. Michelle was with them; the rest of the crew was in the shade as well, just taking it easy for a while after spending much of the day yesterday and this morning getting the rafts rigged and loaded, with everything tied down and ready to go. In the raft on the end sat a drybag with Blue Beauty in it, strapped into place, along with an array of special equipment beyond what the other rafts carried -- digital recorders, a good one and a less capable spare, external hard drives, microphones, cables, spare rechargeable batteries, a gasoline generator and battery charger and gallon cans of gasoline. Some of it was pretty miniaturized, but it was still a lot of extra gear. But to the casual observer at Lee's Ferry that morning, things looked pretty normal.

"Do you get the feeling we've done this before?" Trey asked with a grin.

"A few times," Crystal grinned. "You get used to it. Myleigh, Trey, you may think that you've seen the Canyon, but really, you haven't. Every trip is new. There's always something different. This is just a little more different than normal." She let out a long sigh. "It's just going to be good to get back out on the river again."

"Yeah," Trey said. "Things ought to be a little more peaceful."

In truth, it hadn't been that hectic a week even though it had been busy. Trey remembered back to the late afternoon and evening down there in Lower Granite Gorge just above Diamond Creek Wash when Myleigh had brought up the idea of taking Blue Beauty on this trip. They had sat and talked until after the hike group got back, and then had to hustle around with the dinner that had been abandoned in the middle of the process. However, many hands made light work, and soon the passengers and the crew were in the middle of another fine Canyon Tours dinner.

As the last of the fires got under way that evening and everyone gathered around the flickering flames, Al got the proceedings off by another quotation from John Wesley Powell, done from memory: "Now the danger is over, now the toil has ceased, now the gloom has disappeared, now the firmament is bounded only by the horizon, and what a vast expanse of constellations can be seen! The river rolls by us in silent majesty; the quiet of the camp is sweet; our joy is ecstasy. We sit till long after midnight, talking of the Grand Canyon, talking of home."

All of the travelers talked of the Grand Canyon, and many did talk of home. It was a sad moment, a graceful ending to a memorable trip. But for a few, Myleigh and the crew members, another trip would begin in a few days -- and now it was about to; already had, for that matter, as the crew had piled onto the crew bus for the run to Lee's Ferry the afternoon before.

But, there had been some modifications and improvements to the original idea that got worked out in the talking in the last camp, and, as soon as they got back to Flagstaff, they got to work on them. The first step was a call to Spearfish Lake, to Jennifer and Blake. "Actually, it sounds pretty interesting," Jennifer said after Myleigh had explained it. "I think I'd love to hear the album. I have to admit though, while we're heading off into new directions, new age ambient music is just a little beyond what I imagined. Blake, what do you think?"

Blake had joined the conversation on a second phone. "I've got to admit, I don't have any idea how we'd go about marketing an album like that," he said. "And I don't know what kind of a market there would be. But people do it, so there's got to be a way, and it'll take some work to find out."

The call was made from the speakerphone in Al's office, in the back of the Canyon Tours office. "Blake, this is Crystal," she spoke up. "You remember me?"

"Of course," Blake said. "It's been a while, but you'd be about as hard to forget as Myleigh."

"Have you ever been out here to the Canyon?" she asked.

"No," Blake said. "We've been a lot of places, but never there. We should have run out there back when Jennifer used to play dates in Vegas, but never got around to it."

"You should make the trip sometime," Crystal said. "Anyway, that's not the point. There's a pot load of gift stores and the like around here. We even have a small section here at Canyon Tours, where we sell souvenirs and stuff from the office and online. Every one of those places has a rack of Canyon-related music CDs. Some of it's pretty good. I'll bet we sell 500 CDs a year out of here, and we're a rafting company."

"Yeah, there'd be some of that market," he said. "Your point is?"

"I was talking to a gal up at the South Rim overlook here a while back, and she told me that they sometimes go through a case of some of those CDs in a couple days. And, some of them have been on sale up there for years, going steadily. The most popular album we sell out of here was cut years and years ago."

"What's that, out of curiosity?" Jennifer asked.

"Grand Canyon Suite," Crystal said. "Howard Hanson and the Rochester Orchestra."

"I've heard it," Blake snorted. "He rushes the grandiose parts of Cloudburst too much."

"Right," Crystal agreed. "I like the Mannheim Steamroller version better, even though it's just the one movement. But can you imagine the number of copies they must go through? I know the guy who supplies most of the gift shops around here. I think he'd be thrilled at some new -- what did you call it? -- new age ambient music. Especially if he can get it direct from the production company and make a better profit by not having to deal with a distributor."

"You're saying that there's that market if nothing else, but it's a long-term one, right?" Jennifer said.

"It's not a hundred percent sure thing, but pretty close," Crystal said.

"Well given that, I don't see how we could fail to back an attempt, even if it doesn't work out." Jennifer said. "Myleigh, you're planning on having this friend of yours do the recording, right?"

"Yes, Trey," she said. "He has a concentration in sound production at Marienthal, and he has a number of ideas he'd like to look into."

"Are you there, Trey?" Blake asked. "What do you think you're going to need?" The call quickly turned into a discussion with Trey and Blake working out what would be needed for recording equipment; Blake had a number of good suggestions to add to Trey's already well-worked-out equipment list. As it turned out Blake had some of what was needed right there in the house at Spearfish Lake, and he promised to round up the rest of what was needed and get it heading to Flagstaff air express.

While they were waiting for the recording equipment to arrive, Crystal took Trey and Myleigh to the airport in Phoenix. In a few hours they were back in Kansas City. Myleigh exchanged some dirty clothes for some clean ones, and Trey got a few things from the gear that he'd left in her apartment for the summer when he'd left to go to Flagstaff. They were only in the apartment for a few minutes before they were heading west again for Arizona in Myleigh's Neon, with Blue Beauty strapped into the back seat.

It was a long drive, made a little longer by a stop at a place in Aztec, New Mexico, to have a special drybag made up for Blue Beauty. Brown Bess had made the trip in one of the bigger drybags that Canyon Tours owned, but there had occasionally been some water seepage into the drybag, although none had penetrated the harp case. In the case of a real upset, things might have been different, and Myleigh was not about to risk her treasured blue harp; it would make the trip in the special drybag, packed inside a larger one.

Two days after they'd left Flagstaff, they were back again. The FedEx guy had already left some boxes from Spearfish Lake at the Canyon Tours office, and more arrived daily. Trey hauled it all out to Crystal and Scooter's house, where he and Myleigh were staying with Crystal; there he set it up, tested it, and tried to get familiar with it, working out how he'd use it in the field. It took time, and not everything went right, so there were problems to figure out.

Al had been enthusiastic about the project from the beginning, and now he began to add some ideas. Canyon Tours only had so many rafts, and they'd used them all to run the two big trips for the wedding trip and still launch Scooter's party in the middle of it, but now they had some spares. Without a great deal of thinking about it, he decided to send an extra raft on this trip, solely for Trey, Myleigh, Blue Beauty and the recording equipment, along with an experienced boatman to row it. That would let the recording raft run a little separately from the rest of the party and not be tied to it or have to put up with the confusion if an interesting place for a recording came up. The company only had so many boatmen, though; the plan had been for Al to run one trip, with Karin going as a spare, and trade off office duties with Michelle, who was also an experienced boatman. Trey wasn't sure how the decision was reached, and he had the impression that a coin flip was involved -- but it worked out that Al would be staying behind at the office, while Karin and Michelle went on this trip. "Hell of a thing to happen two weeks after your wedding," he'd snorted, "But we knew it was going to happen sooner or later, so I guess I can't complain. If Michelle is going," he went on, "We just about have to take the extra raft anyway, to carry all the bubble gum."

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