Aquifer: A Novel Read online

  Unlike most Ozark mills which had used water wheels, chutes and flumes to harness water-power to drive their equipment, the grist mill at Alley Spring had used a totally submerged turbine that was driven by the river that exited the spring. It also used steel rollers rather than stone grist mills to grind its various grains. The state-of-the-art system had been the most advanced technology in its day when it was originally installed in 1893.

  The mill operators became quite wealthy in a short period of time because of the increased efficiency of this new technology. At the height of its production period, the turbine powered eight roller mills, allowing it to produce over ten tons of flour daily. However, the mill had not been in service since electricity was brought into the valley in the 1940s. Its only purpose now was to serve as a tourist attraction and historical preserve.

  The lady Park Ranger addressed the small group of excited tourists and began a lecture about the spring’s history and its water source. “Of all the springs in Missouri, the coloration of the water in Alley Spring is the most unique. The richness of the turquoise-blue color is caused by an abundance of limestone that is dissolved in the water. The dissolved calcium refracts the sunlight, diffuses the blue spectrum and reflects it back to the surface. The pool is a funnel-shaped spring basin with a depth of only about thirty-two feet. Then the spring channel cuts back under the limestone bluff where the water comes from an underground cave that goes for many miles. Scuba divers have mapped the first mile of the cave which we have reproduced in a brochure you can get at the gift shop inside the mill house.”

  While the ranger continued with her lengthy lecture, Larry opened his camera bag and removed his 35 mm single lens reflex digital camera. He then removed the telephoto lens and replaced it with his wide-angle lens. The ranger continued speaking while Larry, playing the part of the tourist, began snapping pictures of the spring basin and its surrounding area. Unnoticed by the ranger and the other tourists was the fact that Larry was actually circling around Tina and making sure that she was the focal point of every frame before he snapped the shutter.

  Though the scenery behind her was truly magnificent, back-dropped by the submerged turbine with the spring’s sapphire blue, 150 feet in diameter, smooth as glass lagoon in the background, Larry was nevertheless more interested in capturing every nuance of Tina’s features as she leaned against the railing of the mill porch.

  A little over half of the lagoon’s circular pool was circumscribed by a one hundred foot high, slightly concaved, horseshoe-shaped limestone bluff. At the top of the bluff, near the center of the horseshoe bend, a small waterfall trickled water over the edge. Plunging toward the base of the bluff, the tiny droplets nearly evaporated on their way down, causing a slight misting effect of gentle rainfall landing upon that end of the otherwise still lagoon.

  “There are hundreds of springs in this area,” continued the Park Ranger. “Most of them receive their water from the local karst topography. However, some of the larger springs receive a portion of their water from the large underground transcontinental aquifer that brings water down from as far north as The Great Lakes and Canada. This aquifer supplies water to much of our country and it is believed that it even extends down into Mexico and South America. The aquifer connects much of our country’s water supply, from New York to Los Angeles.

  “Missouri in particular is a complex system honeycombed with caves, grottos, sinkholes, springs, and rivers, many of which are fed from the aquifer. Almost one fourth of all the artesian spring water in America can be found within fifty miles of where you are standing, producing enough water to provide for all the culinary water needs of every person in America . . .”

  The Park Ranger’s interesting, though admittedly dry, lecture continued as Tina led Larry down the back steps of the mill porch, away from the crowd, to the six-foot-wide dirt path that extended around the perimeter of the spring, As they approached the path Larry heard the ranger say something about the Delaware Indians becoming frightened of evil spirits and leaving the area when the spring suddenly stopped flowing and the waters were sucked back down the tunnel that fed the spring from the bottom of its basin. But then Tina’s hand brushed against his, their fingers intertwined and embraced, and he suddenly lost all interest in what the Ranger was saying. Though it was the middle of the day, the overhead arching tree branches of the dense forest kept the path cool and shady.

  “Isn’t this just beautiful?” she beamed, gazing across the lagoon as they lazily strolled down the path. “I love the Ozarks.”

  Larry stopped walking, turned, and looked straight into her eyes. “I never knew such beauty existed,” he replied.

  Both of them seemed a little uncomfortable at his boldness. Tina looked away and they awkwardly continued walking again, though it was obvious that Tina had enjoyed Larry’s comment.

  When they reached the midpoint of the perimeter trail, near the center of the horseshoe bluff which majestically rose from the water’s edge, they stopped momentarily to gaze back across the millpond. Its glassy smooth surface formed a giant, semi-translucent, turquoise-blue reflecting mirror. Not far to their right and thirty-two feet under water, the spring basin was fed by water gushing from the submerged cave tunnel exiting from the base of the bluff.

  “Look!” said Tina, pointing to a small furry creature swimming across the millpond. It was headed right at them and wasn’t more than fifty feet from the water’s edge.

  “He’s a cute little varmint,” Larry commented.

  “He’s not a varmint,” she corrected. “He’s a muskrat. There’s lots of ‘em around here.”

  Larry continued to watch the muskrat swim toward them, but Tina’s gaze was momentarily distracted by a hawk. When the muskrat was within twenty feet of the bank it dove for the bottom. The ripples caused by its dive distorted his visibility, but Larry was sure he saw something large and dark dart out from the mouth of the underwater cave tunnel, grab the muskrat, and then immediately retreat to the recesses of the cave opening.

  “Did you see that?” he asked.

  “See what?”

  “Uh, nothing,” he replied, realizing how foolish his question would appear since there are no underwater predators in the Ozarks large enough to take down a muskrat. After all, it had all happened so fast and the swirling motions of the water made him unsure of what he had seen. “I guess the ripples in the water were just playing tricks on my eyes.”

  “You talk like you’ve never been in the mountains before. Where are you from?” she asked, grabbing his hand and leading him toward the remainder of the perimeter path.

  “I’ve lived all my life in New York City, the Bronx actually, except for my schooling in St. Louis . . . even though I was a Boy Scout as a kid, I’ve never really spent much time in the great outdoors . . . but I love the ocean. I spend as much time there as I can.”

  “What do you mean?” she laughingly asked.

  “I love whales. I spent much of my free time back home watching them and recording their songs. I have quite a tape and CD collection of whale songs, mainly humpbacks.”

  They climbed a series of stone steps chiseled out of the limestone bluff wall on the far side of the bluff as they continued their walk around the spring's lagoon.

  “That’s wonderful! I’d like to hear them sometime. But, how did you ever get into frog studies? You don’t seem the herpetologist type,” she laughingly prodded.

  “Wow, I’m impressed,” Larry chuckled. “You actually know what the word means. And no! I don’t intend to devote my life to the study of frogs.”

  “Then how’d you get hooked up with Dr. Clayton for the summer?”

  “Well it’s kind of a long story. I want to be a medical doctor, a neurologist to be specific. My favorite aunt died of a brain tumor. I was very close to her. I watched her suffer as the debilitating effects of the tumor spread throughout her body.” Larry gazed across the lagoon momentarily as his thoughts reflected upon that experience and his emotions rose
in his throat. Gaining his composure, he continued. “So, I want to learn more about how to help people with that condition. After I got into med school I began studying some of the latest research and learned that some species of Amazon frogs secrete a substance that helps to either eliminate or reduce the size of certain types of brain tumors.”

  “Sounds really . . . technical,” she said while wrinkling her nose and drawing the corners of her mouth into an innocent, disarming smile that revealed a genuine interest in what he was saying.

  “Well I guess it is, but if I can extract and chemically identify this substance, then isolate it, and finally synthesize it, we could help a lot of people. Then Dr. Mclninch, one of my medical school committee members, told me about this summer internship that opened up with Dr. Clayton and his research with frogs, and I jumped at the chance.”

  Tina laughed, “No pun intended I’m sure.”

  Larry chuckled and smiled a wide jovial smile as he slowed his gait. “So here I am – a boy from the Bronx learning about the Ozark backwoods.” Larry stopped, turned to face Tina and stared directly into her eyes as his jovial smile faded and he became rather serious, “. . . and I’m finding that there is a lot of unexpected beauty down here.”

  Tina blushed and changed the subject. “I think it’s time to continue your Ozark tour.”

  =/=

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Barber Shop

  The makeup of the barbershop discussion group changed from day to day and from hour to hour within a day. Some of its participants showed up more frequently than others, and certainly more frequently than their need for a haircut. Bill Jackson was one of the most ardent participants. He usually made an appearance at least twice a week, for an hour or two, just to talk and to rub shoulders with other men in the town.

  This Saturday morning’s discussion started out as usual with the various weather prognosticators forecasting daily conditions for the coming week. The topic however, quickly changed to a discussion of the “meteorite” crash of two nights earlier.

  “I tell ya the military's up there doin’ some kinda secret research,” Bill emphatically stated.

  “Noooo, they're not! It says right here in the paper that an asteroid hit beyond Blue Spring and a military unit from Ft. Leonard Wood is doing cleanup work,” stated another man who was reading the Current Wave newspaper. “It says right here that they’ll be there most of the summer cleanin’ things up.”

  “Yeah, I hear they got the entire area cordoned off. Ya can’t get within a mile of the place,” another man added.

  “Come on!” interjected Bill. “Surely ya don't believe that the army’s up there just doing cleanup work from some asteroid that strayed off course! There certainly wouldn’t be anything secret about that. Look, I spent time in the army. I know what they do. If it was something that simple then why won’t they let us up there?” he asked rhetorically.

  “They said the asteroid is radioactive. They gotta neutralize it to make it safe,” explained Zeek.

  “For cryin’ out loud Zeek – asteroids aren't radioactive. I tell ya, they're up to somethin’,” exclaimed Bill.

  =/=

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Round Spring

  Tina’s yellow Jeep traveled along the narrow, twisty, tree-top canopied Highway 19, headed north out of Eminence. The tour of Alley Spring had greatly impressed Larry because he had never seen such a large artesian spring. He shot the equivalent of nearly an entire roll of film, claiming to be photographing the spring, but in reality Tina was his main focus.

  Though he had truly enjoyed the day so far and was already looking forward to other opportunities of getting to know Tina, internally Larry was grappling with having to spend his entire summer in such a small town. He knew, of course, that the town would be small, but the culture shock he was experiencing was something for which he was not entirely prepared.

  To buffer him in his cultural adjustment, Larry had devoted himself to long hours of work with Dr. Clayton, which he thoroughly enjoyed. Nevertheless, when not working, he continued to suffer from a mild case of Stuck-In-Hickville-Itis. Unbeknown to Larry’s conscious mind, however, Tina’s presence was quickly proving to be an effective cure.

  “Okay, so other than this incredibly beautiful spring, what other claims to fame does Eminence have?” asked Larry, in a somewhat teasing demeanor.

  “Well,” she replied, “we made the Guinness Book of World Records.”

  “You’re joking, right?” said Larry incredulously, assuming that she was teasing him back.

  Tina laughed. “No, really. We’re the canoe capital of the world. There are several float fishing camps around here. They all got together a few years back and piled up their canoes in a great big pile: 767 canoes; 40 tons of aluminum. It was a really big to do. Almost everybody in town got involved in it. One of our state senators even got his picture in the Guinness Book putting the last canoe in place.”

  Larry laughed too. “That’s a good one. But hardly what I was expecting. Anything else?” he teasingly prodded.

  “Well . . . let’s see,” Tina responded contemplatively as the breeze wisped her long blond hair about. She loved driving along the twisty, winding mountain roads with the Jeep’s top down. Effortlessly she down-shifted as the Jeep began to climb the steep mountain road. “Well, we were listed as the top outdoor sports town in Missouri in Sports Afield magazine and as one of the top fifty sports towns in the country . . . and we host the nation’s largest annual organized trail ride.”

  “That’s nice. But all that stuff deals with tourism. Don’t you have anything of mention that’s really important?”

  “Of course, lots of things. But most of the things we’re really proud of would never get heard of outside the county. Except of course, for our hometown astronaut.”

  “An astronaut? From Eminence?” Larry chided.

  “Yeah! Tom Akers. He’s a shirt-tail relative of our sheriff, but before becoming an astronaut he was the principal of Eminence High School. He’s a veteran of four space shuttle missions.”

  “Tom Akers . . .” Larry drawled in amazement. “If my memory’s correct, he was part of the crew that captured the Hubble telescope and helped fix it.”

  “That’s right.”

  “He’s really from here?”

  “Yup.”

  At that moment Tina pulled the Jeep into the parking lot at Round Springs. She parked in one of the stalls at the end of the meadow, near the spring’s outlet branch. They got out and headed up the path toward the picturesque spring.

  Round Spring had a recorded maximum daily flow of 336 million gallons but usually averaged about twenty-six million gallons per day. It was unique in that it had two surface openings for the same spring. The first was a round sinkhole forming a crater, the sides of which rose vertically from the water. The pool was rather small, only sixty feet in diameter, and like most Ozark springs the surface was as smooth as a sheet of glass.

  Round Spring was one of the first State Parks in Missouri, established in 1932 and incorporated into the Ozark National Scenic Riverways park system in 1972. The Park Service operated a campground with sixty family camping sites, ten cluster sites, and three group sites. The campground offered canoe rentals, a camp store, restrooms with hot showers, and a coin-operated laundry. It was a very popular camping area and remained open year-round.

  Tina and Larry stood on a wooden observation platform built along the sidewall of the crater, jutting out over the spring. Looking over the guardrail they gazed into the water of an almost perfectly round pool, thirty-five feet below. The abundant growth of underwater mosses and grasses growing around the spring’s perimeter gave onlookers the impression of looking into the depths of a giant iridescently green emerald with a heart of sapphire-blue.

  “Round Spring . . . appropriately named,” Larry observed.

  “This spring is truly one of a kind. The pool in this crater is about sixty feet deep before it curves back under the
bluff. But the surface water flows into that cave over there,” she pointed to the far side of the pool where there was a fifteen-foot wide, four-foot high, ovoid opening in the crater’s sidewall right at water level. “The water winds through the underground caverns and comes out again in another pool on the other side of the hill behind us. From there it flows about a quarter of a mile and then empties into the Current River,” she explained.

  “This is incredible,” Larry said in awe as he surveyed the crater above the spring. “It almost looks as if the whole thing should be a cave.”

  “It was. Thousands of years ago, where we’re standing was about fifty feet underground. But then a sinkhole formed above this pool.” She leaned over the guardrail and gazed into the depths of the spring. “Gradually the sinkhole ate away at the soil above the cave’s ceiling and dissolved its support until the roof collapsed, opening the whole thing up to the outside.” She straightened up and turned to look at Larry. “But the ancient stream bed is still visible. If you’d like to see the inside of the cave, the Park Rangers conduct a two-hour tour by flashlight and lantern.”

  “Yeah, I’d really like to do that.”

  “Okay, but we’ll have to come back some other time ‘cause they only do it once a day, at ten in the morning.”

  They stepped off the observation platform, turned and walked down the footpath toward the secondary pool which was located a hundred and fifty yards away and on the other side of a low hill. Tina continued to educate Larry about the spring as they walked.

  “Another of the really unusual things about this spring is that dye tracing studies have shown that some of the water actually comes from the other side of the Current River. The water from the recharging area has to make a complete circle, flowing from the east, going under the river, coming out in the spring, and then flowing back to the east again and emptying back into the river.