I have been moving and climbing all my life.
My mother says I kicked the "Begesus" out of her before
birth. She has told me of how she would grab a foot and try to keep
it still, only to have the other lash out in a different direction.
I think I was also provided a gaggle of guardian angels.
The day I was brought home from the hospital I was laid in the
middle of my parent's double bed. Babies were not an unknown entity
to my mother for I was the second born, she left the room for a
second to get something.
Mistake
She tells how she ran back into the room and caught me, as I was
about to go over the edge of the bed.
Fast forward to 5-6 months old.
Mother walks into baby's bedroom to check on baby.
Baby is gone. Disappeared.
Mother freaks
.
Baby is sleeping on the cold floor under the crib.
One or two more episodes of the disappearing baby and engineer
father fashions a lid for the crib. Child is now caged- only for
naps, but mind you, still caged.
Maybe that's one reason I climb.
I checked the map. This was going to be different. The first mountain
climbed I used tennis shoes. Climbing is really a misnomer, for
it was simply a really long walk up to fourteen thousand plus feet.
From the nine thousand-foot level the trail wanders 11 miles to
the summit. But this summit before me was more technical.
This was going to be different.
It was cold.
It was dark - it was the middle of the night.
A Solo climb - no safety rope tonight. All of 19 years old.
I had come this far, and the summit was only about the equivalent
of a 25 story building away. I had already come almost two miles
and only had hundreds of feet to go.
I decided to go for it, scaling the first obstacles with ease.
I became more confident and afraid at the same time. This was REALLY
STEEP.
REALLY REALLY STEEP.
The gaggle of angles hovered. I began the ascent. Because of the
cold I was wearing my down jacket, heavy gloves and my climbing
boots. Swiss climbing boots, they had already seen lots of walking
in their short life.
This was a hand over hand type of climb. On a simple "walk
up" your legs do all the work. This time I was taxing my arms
as well. Once I had reached only 25 feet from the plateau below,
the wind began to pick up. Wrapping my foot into a secure place,
I used one arm to pull my hood sung and then leaned into the side
of the slope while using both hands to tie the hood.
In the distance I could see city lights. One great thing about
heights is the view. The higher you go, the better the panorama,
and this night I had visions of a wonderful vista before me.
Up and up. My progress was measured by one foot at a time. Because
of the nature of the summit I only had a very narrow space in which
to climb.
I paused often, and the wind began to howl.
The wind can play tricks on the unwary observer. Around one bend
in a trail, over one small ridge and you can be blasted by a cold
persistent wind. This night the wind was unrelenting.
I am not sure how long it took, I kept looking up toward the summit,
trying to gauge how much further. Look at the summit; peek out at
the view, hand over hand, one foot up at a time.
Finally. The last move.
There was one small opening to crawl through and a then a ledge
with enough room for maybe 3 people to stand on. Some summits have
a lot of room, this one was small.
I was tired, exhausted, cold, and my heart was pounding.
I turned to the north and looked over the fields far below. Spread
out before me were all the lights of the city.
This was doubly cool - maybe triple.
No one I knew had ever been on the summit, much less at night in
the middle of winter.
I smiled - this giant shit-eating grin and wrapped my arms around
the pole at the top of the summit.
For you see, the top of a 300 foot radio tower sways in the winter
wind.
The boy was out of the crib again.
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