Mountain Ice (David Dean Mysteries)

Usually there were few cars at the site but now, with the early festival climbers in town, the parking lot at the curve of the county road was filled. A number of cars carried out of state license plates. As the group trudged up a small rise in the road, the awesome creations of the ice park came into view.

Imposing columns and pillars of ice were visible everywhere-massive icicles and mounds, built up from the spraying water tapped from the piping that paralleled the penstock. The colors were striking. A blue-green tint shone through the sunlight while frozen waterfalls, hanging from the upstream cliffs, bore a hint of the rust-orange hue from the natural deposits of Red Mountain above. As the group approached the area, climbers could be seen, bright colored flies tacked on a wall of ice.

At this spot, a bridge spanning the Uncompahgre River bisected the two main climbing sections that extended almost a mile. Once the festival was underway, this would be the prime area for gear demonstration. Now it held about two dozen people, some climbers preparing their equipment and photographers availing themselves of the excellent location where they could look straight down on the climbers below them.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Ryland said to the silent group. Donnie clung to his mother, eyes wide, pointing to a climber about to descend from the corner of the bridge. From a distance, it looked as if he leapt backwards into the abyss. Edith shut her eyes and Dean thought for a moment she might once again faint.

"I can't watch this," she said, a tremble in her voice. She turned away, looking straight ahead, back down the road.

"The ice is beautiful," Cynthia said, "but they should have a psychiatrist in residence for the participants. That's the scariest thing I've ever seen." In spite of the closeness of the park to Bird Song, this was Cynthia's first view of ice climbing. While Dean had wandered up to the area with Cynthia's son Randy on a few occasions, she had steadfastly stayed away.

Ryland just laughed as they crossed the bridge. "Let's go up river a way and you can hold my rope." While the others moved cautiously to the bridge, enthralled by the scene in both directions, Edith refused to budge any further. Ryland's pleading fell on deaf ears. It was obvious she was petrified to venture anywhere near the edge. Finally, it was acknowledged she would return to Bird Song alone.

The view downstream and directly below the bridge was awesome. The chasm appeared to Dean to be a hundred feet or more to the river below. There was ice everywhere, a panoply of shapes and forms. Climbers could be seen in pairs, groups and singles, some nearly beneath them. All seemed to be in perilously dangerous situations, clinging to the sheer walls with outstretched arms and spread legs, somehow adhered to the clear surface before them. The steady chinking of ice axes could be heard echoing up and down the deep gorge.