Chapter 20Water, Where Is It? A Bitter Disappointment

For what felt like forever - a seriously long, exhausting hour - a bunch of wild ideas popped into my head about why our chill, reliable guide was acting so weird. Like, totally absurd stuff, each one more unbelievable than the last. I honestly think I was losing it, either a little or a lot.

Then, outta nowhere, like from the ground itself, a comforting voice. Footsteps! It was Hans, coming back.

Slowly, the light started to peek through the walls of the passage, then way down the slanting tunnel. Finally, Hans showed up.

He went over to my uncle, put his hand on his shoulder, and gently woke him up. My uncle saw who it was and jumped right up.

"Seriously!" the Professor said. "Vatten," the hunter replied.

I didn't know any Danish, but somehow, I just got what he said.

"Water, water!" I yelled, totally freaking out, clapping my hands and gesturing like a lunatic.

"Water!" my uncle murmured, sounding super grateful and emotional. "Hvar?" ("Where?") "Nedat." ("Below.")

"Where? below! "I understood every word. I grabbed the hunter's hands and shook them hard, and he just looked at me calmly.

Getting ready to leave was quick, and we were zooming down the tunnel.

An hour later, we'd gone a thousand yards and dropped two thousand feet.

Just then, I heard a familiar sound echoing through the granite - a dull, low rumble, like a waterfall far away.

For the first half hour, we didn't find the spring, and I started feeling awful again. I was losing hope, for real. But my uncle noticed I was getting down, so he started talking to me.

"Hans was totally right," he said, super excited; "that's the low rumble of a river."

"A river," I yelled, stoked to even hear the good news.

"No question about it," he replied, "a river's running underground next to us."

I didn't say anything, just sped up, feeling hopeful again. I totally forgot about how tired I’d been. The sound of the awesome water was already refreshing me. We could hear it getting louder every second.

The river, which had been rumbling over our heads for a while, now ran clearly along the left wall, roaring, rushing, and splashing.

I kept reaching out to touch the rocks, hoping to feel some moisture - even just a tiny bit. But no luck.

Another half hour went by in the same tired grind. We kept moving.

It was clear the hunter hadn't been able to find anything more while he was gone. Using that instinct mountain people and water finders have, he "smelled" the spring through the rock. Still, he hadn’t seen the water. He hadn’t even quenched his own thirst, let alone brought us a drop in his gourd.

Plus, we quickly realized that if we kept going, we’d be moving away from the river, and the sound would fade. So we turned around. Hans stopped exactly where the sound was loudest.

I couldn't take the waiting and the suffering anymore, so I sat against the wall, where I could hear the water bubbling and fizzing just two feet away. But a solid wall of granite still stood between us!

Hans looked at me closely, and weirdly, I thought I saw a smile on his usually unflappable face.

He stood up from the stone he’s been sitting on and grabbed the lamp. I couldn't help but stand up and follow. He moved slowly along the solid granite wall. I watched him, super curious and eager. Soon, he stopped and pressed his ear against the dry stone, moving along carefully, listening intently.

I instantly knew he was looking for the exact spot where the torrent's roar was loudest. He found it pretty quickly in the wall on the left, about three feet up from the tunnel floor.

I was totally hyped. I could barely believe what the eider-duck hunter was about to do. But then I saw him lift the heavy crowbar and start attacking the rock itself - it was impossible not to understand and cheer him on, even hug him! "Saved! I yelled.

"Yeah!" my uncle shouted, even more excited than I was. " Hans is totally right. Oh, what a great guy! We would’ve never thought of that."

And I don't think anyone else would have either. That process, as simple as it looked, would definitely not have popped into our heads. It would’ve been seriously dangerous to start chipping away with pickaxes in that spot.

Imagine if the rock broke, and the torrent, once it got a foothold, just burst through the broken rock!

Those dangers were totally real, not just some fantasy. But at that moment, no worries about the roof collapsing or even a flood could stop us. We were so thirsty, we’d have dug all the way to the bottom of the ocean to get a drink.

Hans headed to work - a job neither my uncle nor I would have touched for anything. We were so hyped up that if we’d started with pickaxes and crowbars, the rock would’ve shattered in a sec. The guide, though? Super chill, ready, and steady.

He chipped away at the hard rock with small, consistent hits, not even trying to make a hole bigger than six inches. As I stood there, I thought I heard, or maybe did hear, the roar of the torrent getting louder for a moment, and I almost felt the nice feeling of water on my dry lips.

After what felt like forever, Hans made a hole where his crowbar could go in about two feet into the solid rock. He’d been working for exactly an hour, but it felt like a dozen. I was going crazy with impatience. My uncle started thinking about using more force. I had to work hard to stop him.

He was just grabbing his crowbar when we heard a loud, awesome hiss. Then a stream - or, more like a jet - of water burst through the wall and shot all the way to the other side!

Hans, the guide, who was totally thrown by the shock, could barely keep from yelling out in pain and disappointment. I got what he meant when I stuck my hands in the sparkly jet and let out a wild, frantic cry myself. The water was burning hot!

"Boiling," I said, totally bummed.

"Eh, whatever," said my uncle, "it’ll cool down soon."

The tunnel started filling up with steam, and a little stream ran into the earth. Soon enough, we had some cool enough to drink. We chugged it down like crazy.

Oh! what an amazing feeling - what rich and incredible luxury! What was this water? Where did it even come from? To us, what was that? The simple truth was - it was water; and, even though it still had a little warmth to it, it brought back that life that would have faded away without it.

I drank it like crazy, almost without even tasting it.

When, however, I’d almost quenched my crazy thirst, I made a discovery.

"Wait, it's chalybeate water!"

"A seriously good stomachic," my uncle replied, "and super mineralized. This trip is way better than going to Spa." "It's really good," I said.

"You think so? Water found six miles underground. It has this kinda dark, inky flavor, which isn't bad at all. Hans can be stoked he made such a rare find. What do you say, nephew, like travelers usually do, should we name the stream after him?"

"Sounds good," I said. And the name "Hansbach" ("Hans Brook") was immediately agreed upon.

Hans wasn't any more proud after hearing our decision than he was before. After taking just a tiny bit of the welcome drink, he’d settled into a corner with his usual calm vibe.

"Now," I said, "it’s not worth letting this water go to waste."

"What's the point?" my uncle replied. " The source where this river comes from is endless."

"Never mind," I continued, "let’s fill our goatskin and gourds, and then try to block up the hole."

My suggestion, after a little thinking, was followed - or at least, we tried. Hans picked up all the broken granite he’d knocked out and, using some tow he had, tried to shut up the crack in the wall. All he did was burn his hands. The pressure was too much, and all our attempts totally failed.

"It's pretty obvious," I said, "that the top of these springs is way up there - we can figure that out from how much pressure there is from the jet."

"No question about it," my uncle replied.

"If that column of water is like, thirty-two thousand feet high, the air pressure has to be insane. But something just popped into my head." "What's that?"

"Why bother to seal up this hole?" "Because - "

I paused, kind of stumbling over my words, because I didn't really have a reason.

"If our water bottles run dry, we’re not exactly sure we’ll be able to refill them," my uncle pointed out. "Yeah, that seems likely."

"Alright, then, let the water flow. It'll naturally follow us, and it’s gonna guide and refresh us."

"That’s a solid idea," I said. " With this stream along, there’s no reason we can’t pull off this crazy project."

"Ha, my boy," the Professor said, laughing, "you're finally coming around."

"More than that, I'm feeling super confident we'll make it."

"Hold on a sec, nephew. Let's get a few hours of rest first."

I totally forgot it was night. But the chronometer reminded me. Soon we were rested up and fast asleep.