Authors Note:
The following is short story, some parts based on fact, other parts on fiction.
Be aware that rock climbing is dangerous. The risk of injury and death can not be eliminated. The author does not recommend participation in outdoor activities without extensive, gradual, outdoor experience, as well as guidance and instruction from a seasoned climber. The story line is not necessarily indicative of how rock climbing should be approached and the reader should not infer that this story is meant to be instructional, or even informative. It is neither. It is a short story, meant to entertain, not guide.
Climb hard, play hard, live hard, but be safe.
John's breathing was heavy. In fact, panting. He was half scared, half angry, half courageous, and half pure adrenaline. That makes him twice the man than he really was. And that's how he thought of himself. Some macho man. Some ego-maniac. Some cocky little bastard. Someone who needed to come back down to earth. And come he would . . . back to earth that is. He was now ready to make his move. Anticipatory sweat now clung to his brows like a humid southern day. "This is it," John thought, "I really think this time, it's gonna happen. Wow, my first time." He couldn't decide whether this was positive or negative thinking. No time for that now. He had to focus at the task at hand. He had to concentrate or else he wouldn't get what he came here for. And then he saw what he needed. What he'd been waiting for. What he'd been wanting, no, yearning for. Oh how he wanted to touch it. To feel it. To put just one of his hands on it. Maybe even press his face close to it. Then he'd move up and press his hips close to it. Yes. That was the plan. John made his move. And began to fall. Somehow, he miscalculated his foothold. Somehow, he underestimated his balance. Somehow, he misjudged the distance to the next hold. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. It was too late for that now. He was falling. It wasn't a long fall, maybe 20-30 feet, and it lasted only as long as it took Ellen to say, "Oh my God! John!" He was now back where he started. On the belay ledge with Ellen and Rob. Three hundred feet above ground zero. They were just as surprised to see John there as John was surprised to be there. "Holy Shit John!" exclaimed Rob with surprised eyes. "Are you ok?" asked Ellen with concerned eyes. None of this registered with John. He was in shock. Fear. Rush. Pain. Surprise. He couldn't distinguish what from what. Instinctively, he simply answered, "Yeah, I'm all right." But he wasn't. He just didn't know it yet. After a few minutes, John looked up and began to climb again. And then it hit him. Extreme pain in his right ankle. Shit! He must have sprained, or worse, fractured it. He definitely could not lead another pitch. "How the hell did this happen?" he asked himself. He reviewed it in his mind. John was on the crux fourth pitch of Dike Route on Pywiak Dome, near Yosemite's Tuolumne Meadow's. It was the steepest section of the climb, a 5.9 classic that followed a diagonal dike up to a headwall. The guidebook warned that the route was run out. Another run out. A route that offered little protection for a fall. A route that would kick your ass if you let it. In this case, it broke your ankle. John seemed to be attracted to these. Was it the extra danger he felt? Was it mere stupidity? Was it a deathwish? He didn't know. Or just didn't know better. So there he was. Scared shitless. Sewing machine leg at full throttle. Trying to calm himself. "Breathe deep and steady," he thought. "C'mon man, you ain't gonna fall. You can do this! It's all mental." John's right leg stopped shaking. But he knew this wouldn't last for long. He was tired. He hadn't slept much. He hadn't eaten much. He didn't know if he was on or off route. He couldn't see the next pro. He shouldn't have been there. But he was, so he made the best of it. He just needed to rest his right calf muscle and move his hand up to the next hold, if there was one. He slowly shifted his weight off the right leg and moved it onto his left. That is when John began to slide. Pop! Not even a big one. Just a little pop, sort of like your jaw popping softly when you open it too wide. pop. His right foot simply couldn't hold it's edge any longer. Since his right hip was hugging the wall, it was his right hip that began to absorb the slide's force. Doing something he had only read about but never practiced, John moved his body weight from his hip to the bottoms of his feet. He was now sliding on the C-4 rubber of his shoes, protecting his body from further damage. All within an instant of a second. But he didn't have time to equilibrate his body weight over both feet. Most of it was still over his right foot when he hit the ledge. No popping. No snapping. Just a crash of flesh against metal against granite. Luckily, he landed somewhat above and between Ellen and Rob. Someone could have definitely gotten hurt if John had fallen to anywhere else. And this is where John now stood. The pain in his ankle a constant reminder of his recent failure. His first leader fall. "Man," he thought. "Guess I'll remember this one forever." Only time will tell. "Well," John finally said, "Any of you feel like climbing up there to retrieve my quickdraw?" "Sure," Rob responded, "I can try." "Problem is," John realized, "You'll have to down climb once you unclip itfrom the bolt. That means you're basically unprotected. It can be pretty dangerous if you fall." Rob looked up at the draw. It was at least 13 feet above them, on a 5.9 face. Maybe not. "Yeah," John said, reading Rob's expression, "I'd rather not get anyone else hurt. We just need to go down. I can't lead anymore." Ellen and Rob agreed. They looked down the wall. Now, all they had to do was figure out how to get this injured guy off the rock in one piece. Trouble was, John was the most experienced climber among them. And he was hurt. This was Rob and Ellen's first multi-pitch outdoors. How the hell were they going to do this? -- o -- John's breathing was heavy. In fact, panting. He was feeling both pleasure and pain, and couldn't decide which one he preferred. So instead, he took a deep breath to calm himself. John wanted to give off an air of confidence. He felt his calmness would help make Rob and Ellen believe in his ability to get them off this rock in one piece. "Ok Rob," John instructed, "You need to rappel down to the next belay anchor. When you get there, take this cordalette and make an anchor with it. Feed it through the bolt hangers and make a V that'll equilibrate when you put your weight on it. Do you know how to do this?" "Yeah," Rob responded, "I've read John Long's books on anchors. I've watched you do it. Yeah, I can do it." I hope so, John thought, because your life is going to depend on it. But he didn't tell Rob this. "Do you remember how to rappel?" John asked, and Rob nodded yes, "Good. Put yourself on rappel, wrap a bight of rope around your leg, then take yourself off this anchor. I've tied the ends of the rope together so that you won't fall off the end of the rappel." Well, actually, that was in theory. There have been some incidents where climbers still fell off the ends of tied ropes. But John didn't tell Rob this. "The next rappel point is down and to our left. Rappel straight down first. When you are slightly above the next station, start slowly walking towards it. Don't rappel directly to it, because if you slip, you're in for a huge pendulum swing." "Whenever you're ready," John said. "Ready," Rob affirmed, and he leaned back and started his rappel. Rob got to the next rappel anchor safely. He began setting up the cordalette, but was having trouble equilibrating it. He tried to remember what he read about anchors. He tried to remember what John had just shown him 10 minutes ago. But he couldn't. It just didn't look right. Dammit! Rob felt. How the hell do you do this? "Don't take yourself off rappel until you've set up a good anchor!" John yelled from above. "How's it going?" "I can't seem to get it," yelled back Rob, frustrated. "Ok. Just take one looped end and feed it through one of the hangers. Now take that same loop and feed it through the other hanger. Got it? Now take the cord that's between the two hangers and pull it down to make a V. Take the other two free ends and bring them down to the end point of that V. That's it! Clip a locking carabiner through all three loops." "OK! Got it!" Rob yelled up, relieved. "Off rappel!" John turned to Ellen. "You're next. Do you remember how to rappel?" "Uh," said Ellen, "No. I've never rappelled before." Shit! John thought. This was his fault. He should have learned about everyone's abilities before they started the route. He should have made sure that everyone was qualified to get not just up the route, but down in case they had to retreat. It was pretty obvious that Ellen was nervous. This wasn't helping. John put on his most confident face and began explaining how to rappel. Ellen listened intently. Her life was going to depend on it. "Ready?" asked John. "Ready," answered Ellen. Fuck, she thought. I hope I can do this. She began to descend. Immediately, she started having problems. The double rope rappel was very heavy. Ellen weighed a mere 93 pounds. Cute, but tiny. Her braking arm had to heave a section of rope above her rappel device, then feed that section through. Ellen was getting tired quickly. I hope she doesn't tire so much that she let's her braking hand off the rope, John thought. I'd hate to lose another friend while climbing. He started thinking about Joanne. It was too painful for him, so he set aside his thoughts and replaced them with the task at hand. "You all right?" John yelled down to Ellen. "Sorta. This rope is hard to feed." "You're almost there!" he encouraged, "Go ahead and start traversing over to Rob." Ellen finally made it over to the rappel station. She clipped in then took herself off rappel. Relief rushed over her body and she felt more relaxed. Thank god! she thought. Thank god. John put himself on rappel. He cleaned the anchor and started down, hopping on his left leg and keeping weight off the right. Rappelling on one leg was hard work. He had to keep himself balanced just right or he would start swaying left or right and hit the wall. Worse yet, he would occasionally hit his injured ankle against the rock. This was extremely painful, almost as bad as his memories and guilt over Joanne's fall. It's not your fault, he reminded himself. But the image stayed in his mind. He saw her beautiful face. He saw her expression of fear and surprise as she fell. He heard her last words to him. Johhhhhhhhhn! Johhhhhhhhhn! Johhhhhhhhhn! Johhhhhhhhhn are you ok? yelled Ellen. He'd simply been standing there, not rappelling. Just deep in thought. Substituting one pain for another. "John, are you ok?" yelled Ellen again. "Yeah" he finally responded. "Sorry. I'm coming." Oh, Joanne, he thought. I miss you. I miss your spirit. I miss your companionship. If you could only see me now. He chuckled, and felt a little better, then finished the rappel. One down, two more to go. -- o -- John's breathing was heavy. In fact, panting. He couldn't believe the effect this book was having on him. It was actually getting him excited. John had to keep shifting in his seat to readjust himself to a more comfortable position. "You should check this out," Laura had suggested to him, "It's got your sick sense of reality. I think you'll enjoy it. Besides, what else are you going to do while we are gone? But watch out! It's the kind of book you'll end up reading with one hand!" Laura was right. She was heading up with Ellen to go climb Cathedral Peak for the day. The two would be gone for at least half the day. John would need something to kill time. This book was the best answer. Laura had talked about the book on the way up to Yosemite. She even read John parts of some of the stories. He didn't really find the idea of it very interesting back then. But now, here he was, knee deep in its pages. Besides, what else are you going to do while we are gone? At first, he really didn't want to read the book. John would rather be climbing with Laura and Ellen. Cathedral Peak is a beautiful climb. The approach keeps most people away since it requires a few miles of hiking. The peak affords incredible vistas of the Tuolumne Meadow landscape to the east and the rest of Yosemite to the west. Beautiful. But he was missing out. It's your own damn fault, he told himself. If you just hadn't fallen and sprained your ankle, you'd be on the rock and living it up. Instead, John was in his car, waiting patiently for the return of his friends. His ankle still hurt. He took a look at it. Swollen. Bruised on both the interior and exterior ligaments and tendons. That was pretty serious. It meant that he probably twisted his right foot inward as he slid down the face. Then, when he hit the ledge, he twisted it outward. Ow-ie. Great. The best of both worlds. John would need more recovery time since he probably did more damage than a normal sprain. At least I got down off the rock after the fall without incident, he thought. Well, almost . . . After John, Rob, and Ellen made their first rappel, they were within sight of their backpacks. John set up another double rope rappel and this time let Ellen go first. (It seemed as if she needed to go to the bathroom really bad.) While John was concentrating on his pain, he forgot that they had climbed 3 pitches and had one more rappel station to move to. He mistakenly told Ellen to rappel all the way to the ends of the ropes. She followed his instructions. "I'm out of rope!" Ellen yelled up, frightened. "And I've still got a good way to go to the bottom!" "Wait a second," John yelled back, "Do you see another rappel point anywhere?" "Um," she said, "What does it look like?" Geez, John thought. She's in trouble. "It should have some webbing, two bolts with hangers, and a rappel ring. Kind of like what we were hanging off of before you rappelled." "Well, I see a bolt. But no hangers." Shit. Did we climb 3 pitches or 2? John couldn't remember anymore. Where had they started the first pitch? Above the packs or at the packs? "OK, well, do you think you can down climb solo from where you are?" "I don't know!" Ellen yelled. "It's pretty steep here." You fuck! she thought. What kind of mess have you gotten me into? She was scared. Not only did she have to go to the bathroom really bad, but now she was stuck. She couldn't go up. She was scared to go down. Ellen was stranded. "Can you swing around to a less steep part of the face and maybe down climb from there?" Ellen scanned the rock around her. Nothing. Damn. Now what? Then she spotted an area where the face flattened out slightly. Oh, thank God, she thought. "Yeah! I see a spot!" "Great! Swing over to it, then stabilize your position before you get off rappel. Once you are off, remember that you are solo. If you fall, you fall. So be careful." As if I needed reminding, Ellen thought. Climbing is supposed to be fun. This really isn't fun anymore. She swung over to her target then got off rappel. At first she started to descend with her back to the wall, facing outwards. But the face was too steep for this, so she decided to face the rock and down climb. All the while, she held her breath, and her bladder. Rob and John watched with nervous anticipation. She looked fine, and before long, she was safely down to the packs. She promptly ignored them and ran into the closest bushes, forgetting her toilet paper. "All right!" Rob said. "She made it!" John let out a sigh of relief then turned to Rob. "I should go next. When I reach the end of the ropes, you are gonna have to put me on belay then lower me down. There's no way in hell I can down climb solo on this ankle. When I get off belay, you'll have to clean this anchor and bring all the gear with you. Got it?" John's safety depended on Rob's getting it. "Got it," Rob said. John got on rappel and began the painful descent. On the way down, he looked for another rappel point but couldn't find one. Rob was going to have to put him on belay. John reached the ends of the ropes. Now, he was faced with a big problem. How would he take himself off rappel, tie in to his harness with one rope, and be safely on belay all at once? The simple answer is he couldn't. John would have to expose himself to a fall unprotected. "Hey Rob!" John yelled for attention. "Put the pink rope on belay. I'm going to tie in to the blue rope once that's done. Watch me though, because I'll be solo until I tie in, so if I fall, I'll be hanging on with my hands only." "Uh," Rob said, a little confused. "OK." What the hell is he doing? Rob thought. He can't stand on that face with one leg and both hands tying in? Is he crazy? John was nervous now. This is crazy, he thought. He had to find a good balance point over his left leg, then lean into the wall. With his hands free and body balanced on his left shoulder and left leg, he'd be able to tie in. In theory. One slip. Just one slip, and it was bye-bye Johnny. John took a bight of the pink and blue ropes and wrapped them around his waist. If he fell, this would give him a fraction of a second more to arrest his fall. It could make all the difference. He smoothly took himself off rappel, but his hands started to shake. This is not good, he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to think of something to calm himself. Joanne entered his mind again. He concentrated on her smile, and felt his muscles relax. Thank you Joanne. I knew you'd be there for me. John tied in with a figure eight onto the blue rope. But then he realized that what he should have done was stay on rappel with the blue rope. All he had to do was take the pink off rappel and Rob's belay would have held him on the blue. John then could have rappelled even lower on the single blue rope. Too late now. Either way, he was safely back on the rope. "OK!" John yelled up, "Belay me down!" Rob began to lower John. It was still difficult for John to descend on one leg. At least when he was rappelling, he could control the pace of his descent, and anticipate how to balance himself. With Rob belaying him, he would jerk a lot and didn't know how far he was going to lower. At each jerk of the rope, John hit his ankle against the rock. Motherfucker! That hurt! he screamed inside his head. The pain was starting to become unbearable for John. Soon enough, John made it to the back packs at the bottom of the route. Ellen was there waiting for him, with a look of relief on her face. "You must have pissed a river!" John joked. Ellen just smiled and laughed. You're so disgusting sometimes, John! she thought. No wonder you're single. Rob cleaned the anchors, rappelled to the ends of the ropes, then down climbed the final 40 feet without a problem. They all looked up at the rock, where John had fallen, where they had just come from. To their right, they finally saw the first pitch anchor that they missed on their rappel down. "Well," Rob said, breaking the silence, "We all made it." "Yeah," replied John, "Good job! Now, if you two can just carry me back to the car, I'd much appreciate it!" They all laughed, and made John walk . . . with his gear. When the three got back to the car, they met back up with Laura and Conrad, who had been climbing a different route. Of course, they had to hear the story of the fall and descent. Rob and Ellen deferred to John, who always had a knack for colorful storytelling. But now, John was engrossed in a different kind of storytelling. He hadn't put down the book since he began reading it, save having to make the occasional nature call. Noirotica , he read. Nice title. "It's got sex, but with a dark twist to it," Laura explained. "Some of the short stories are good, some aren't so great. Really, you'll like it." John liked it. More than a few stories gave him a boner. Some just turned him off. He started to wonder if he was "normal" if he got excited off of some of the decrepit stories. But he liked reading the different writing styles of several authors. It gave him ideas on themes, suspense, description, movement, and flow. He quickly read over stories with titles such as "The Big Black Dildo". Themes varied from domination and submission, to murder, to males attacking she-males, to homosexuality, to anonymous sex with violent strangers Most of the stories where based in San Francisco, New York, or LA. Gee, I wonder why none of them are set in Kansas? John chuckled. He read on. Some of these stories aren't that great, John thought. Heck, even I can write better than some of the authors in the book. The thought flashed in his mind. Yeah, I can write, maybe not better, but at least as good as these folks. John finally put down the book. He picked up his journal and pen, and began to scribble . . . -- o -- Scribble, scribble, doodle, doodle. John wrote for awhile, but none of it was coming out the way he wanted. Oh well, he thought, I guess I'm not as good of a writer in erotica as I thought! Maybe I've just lost my inspiration. He looked down at his pants. Yes. He had lost it. "Heya John!" Laura beamed through the open car window, startling John, "Whatcha writing?" "Oh," he replied, "Nothing." John closed his journal and put it away. He began to ask Laura and Ellen about their climb up Cathedral Peak. "Later," Ellen interrupted. "We'll tell you later! Right now, I REALLY gotta go!" John chuckled, then started up the car and drove them to the visitor's center where a bathroom waited. He forgot all about his writing. He forgot all about his journal. John didn't open it again for a long time. -- o -- I guess I better unpack all my stuff, John told himself. All his gear from the Yosemite trip had been lying around for over a month. He just never got around to unpacking it. He was too busy working, going to therapy for his ankle, or trying to pry himself away from the TV. God, he thought. I must've been really depressed or something. I never watch TV unless something is wrong in my life. I'm supposed to be happy. Why do I get the nagging feeling that I'm just pretending? John opened his backpack and caught a whiff of a sandwich that would put any petri dish culture to shame. He gagged, then held his breath and turned the whole pack upside down and shook it heartily. Everything began to fall out. His journal fell on his foot then onto the floor, opening its pages towards him. John picked it up and began to read the open page: October 25, 1992 Dearest Joanne, Well, instead of writing a letter to you, I'm writing in my journal again. Kind of like Anne Frank, or somebody like that. And again, the first thing I want to tell you is that I miss you. I know it's only been a few weeks, but it feels longer. It's true when they say that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Only in my case, I feel weaker too.... John put down the journal. He'd forgotten he'd taken this journal with him to Dominica, during the days when he thought he could save the world. He'd forgotten that he actually wrote in it for awhile, until he finally started writing letters to Joanne instead. He'd forgotten a lot, but he never forgot Joanne. John left his messy room and walked to the garage. Once there, he began to rummage through the section earmarked to go to either the Salvation Army or the dump. John always saved everything, but now he was trying to throw it all away - unless someone was willing to take it. C'mon, where the hell are you! he asked irritably. Where are you? After searching and sneezing awhile, John found what he was looking for. A small Addidas shoe box. The one that came with the white and green striped running shoes he bought in Dominica. At the time, he thought they were real. But after only a few miles, the shoes started to fall apart. Cheap imitations that cost him a good amount of his allowance for that month. But he still had the box. John put his fingers under the rubberbands that held the box closed, and moved them off. The rubberbands, brittle from age, simply snapped. He took the top off and pulled out the first letter he saw. It was from Joanne. John saved every single one of them. He had carefully organized them in this box. Chronologically, in the order he had received them. If the garbage pickup day were on Wednesdays instead of Thursdays, the box would no longer be in this pile. It would be gone and out of John's life forever. I need to put this behind me, John reasoned. I need to move forward and get on with my life. So, he cleared out most of his older belongings. All the things he felt he didn't need anymore. The box was one of them. The journal reminded him about the box, about Joanne. He carefully opened the envelope and unfolded the thin, onion-paper pages. December 18, 1993, Letter #26 My dearest John, It's 1:15 am and I thought I'd take a break from studying by writing you instead. I've gone through about 150 physics problems and my head is going to explode. I still have to grade two sections of problem sets. I'm so exhausted. But I'm never too tired to write you. I was so glad to hear from you the other day. Giddy is a better description. When the phone rang, I thought it was my sister. My heart jumped when your voice came through. I have to admit that after our conversation, I began to think about our physical intimacy even more, and how much I missed that. It's waking up in the mornings with your arms wrapped around my waist, or your leg on top of mine, or your body nestling next to me - warm, smooth, soft, and ever so squeezable. I really miss those long, muscular, gentle arms of yours. Just falling asleep in them gave me inexplicable pleasure and satisfaction. Waking up in them made me even happier. I really miss you. I know you're following your calling. I know you are making sacrifices to hopefully make the world a better place. That's just one reason why I love you - because you have a good heart. But dammit John! Why do we have to be separated for you to fulfill your destiny and me to fulfill mine? I know this'll sound selfish of me, but can't poor people get along without you? Can't you just come home and help those in need here? Does it have to be a thousand miles away? Well, enough. I know life is hard on you. I don't want to make it any harder. But truthfully, this is hard. The only consolation is that I'll finally see you at home for the holidays. I can't believe it's been over a year and 3 months already. You're almost there baby! We'll go climbing together when you come home - after we spend a few days in bed of course! I love you and miss you. Joanne John neatly folded the letter and put it back into the envelope. He remembered coming home that Christmas. He remembered staying with Joanne for 4 days straight, getting "reacquainted". Most of all, he remembered the climb Joanne had promised him. It was the climb that killed her. John put the letter back in the box. He placed the lid on it and layed it on top of the "to the dump" pile. Tomorrow would be Thursday. He walked back into his apartment, sat down in the living room, and turned on the television. He didn't even notice what was on. He was crying. It was the first time he had cried over Joanne. After all those years. He was crying. And it felt as if it would never stop.
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