Taking of the Rock




Jack tells me there's a beautiful rock out in the desert in an abandoned quarry he had
to leave cause the 4 wheel drive on the Nissan failed, and do I feel like giving him a hand
going back and getting it.

I ought to know better. He's the kind of guy who says

- all you do is get a Sawz-all...

and neglects to mention that leaning "you" (me) on a 30 foot ladder is required.

But he tells stories with lines like

- Seeing as how you can't swim too well, if I was you, I'd pick the boat
you are least likely to be thrown off of, and that wouldn't be mine.

And I love what he does with stone.

We meet up in Riverside, My truck, his truck.
Drive northeast, 30 miles or so. This is Desert, in the Lucerne Valley.
I follow him to a lonely and lonelier road and we go and go, till it turns
from pavement to dirt, and 10 more miles that way.
Till my two wheel drive can't proceed.
Ride the rest of the way with Jack.
We are all alone out here. The silence, solitude, the plain air and nowhere
vista's are awesome. Now out of the valley and up into hills.
Jack winds the truck up some gnarly rocky rutted road, till we we can't go anymore.
We take the rock dolly Jack made for just this occasion out of the back of the truck.
He used the wheels from my old Yamaha 550cc Seca, welded an axel, a bed, and
a handle. Even tied a little rope to the arm of the brake drum in one of the wheels,
so we can stop.




And so we go up, winding around a rocky path a pair of turns, a hundred
or so yards. Beside a gully where rests the ancient wreck of a big A-frame truck,
and then up some more and there's the Quarry, in a side of the hill that looks like
its been dynamited. And there's the Rock.
Jack spritzes some water on it for me to see.
A luster of pale avocado jade, veined with purple, flecks of gold.
Now he taps it with a hammer.
It very purely rings.
That's how you know.
Okay, lets go.
Surprising amount of pussyfooting he wants to do to lift it up straight
to fit on the dolly. Its square, like 18-20 inches by about 40 inches tall.
He wants to use boards and other rocks to leverage it step by step.
I used to lift prone 55gal drums of stuff much easier.
He's telling me to watch it.
What you do is squat, grab one end and lift, both legs, back and arms into it,
little wiggly reaching a fulcrum, and then its easy, 600 lbs, I guess, straight up.
So my technique has prevailed. Not often that happens. Heh heh.
Now he secures with rope it to the dolly.
Its starting to warm up.
There's also a bowling ball sized chunk of the same stuff.
Its very hard to break the dolly back from vertical to the slightly canted
horizontal position we'll need to roll it down the hill. Now we go.
The rock dolly, as we lift it to gain momentum and aim its roll, makes
the handle into the end of a catapult when the weight of the rock shifts,
suddenly flinging us aside. The string operated Brake is a joke.
Its remarkable no bones are broken.
90 yards to go down this rock strewn path.
We have a length of rope.
I help him tie a harness around the Rock, an immense effort.
He takes his 20 feet of slack in front of it and starts to pull, while
I push behind it, for momentum. Oh, 20 feet or so.
And then the harness has to be fitted again.
Seems to take about 20 minutes.
We get another 8 feet.
Fuck this man, I clear a path, turn the rock from narrow to wide so I can roll it.
Jack's shaking his head and calling me Dude as in that's wasted energy and that
ain't gonna work, but I get it it to tumble - a 20 plus something foot advance.
We try that again.



It goes like that.
Its absurd, but you can't leave behind the efforts taken to get it this far.
And it is getting closer to the truck. You think of the pyramids and, two
guys better be able to figure this out.
Every hour or so I roll the balling ball sized rock in front of us a ways.
Till we catch up. As we turn, its a mere 50 yards from the truck, but fortunately
our decline is increasing. I roll the little one down and it tumbles off the path,
down the hill. Jacks tying the harness together again, and taking a break.



I tromp down for it.
Lift it up.
Rattle.
Fuck!
Audible Shudder - the Willies.
Fling the rock up and scramble up the hill.
Watch that fuck from up there.
About 5 feet long.
Sidewinding. Whoa.
That's like real fuckin nature man!
I get an awesome and slightly sick feeling.
Gooseflesh.
Jack gets a chuckle.
That's the last response you want he says.
For one you don't drop the rock. Its a weapon.
Two be still and look around. Where's the one, there's usually another.
Is that right.
About 5 hours in all, the sun is going down.
We make a loading dock out of the hill to the back of Jack's Nissan.
There is rare excitement on Jacks face at having accomplished this.
Big boys with real toys get the good rocks, he proclaims.
He shakes my hand and says
I couldn't have done it with you.
Jack who specializes in not needing help.
It was immensely satisfying to see it on his truck.
I drive back to Big Bear, get a hotel and hardly move for 24 hours.
And then very slowly for another day - beat up.
His geologist friend estimates its weight - 700 lbs.
In the next few years Jack whittles it down to about 90.
Turns the bowling ball sized chunk into a water bowl for Sasha.



I'm always thinking he's going to offer it to me. Never happens.
That's alright.
I got plenty of other stuff.
Two months later I'm listening to Jack tell the story at his 4th of July party.
And somebody says,
- Really, you can just take rocks like that?
Yeah, you just take em -




white 12:51 PM

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P U B L I C A T I O N S
Chris Sullivan thingnamer at gmail dot


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