The Rescue
by Shreyas Sarangi 9A

Climbing up a mountain is no walk in the park. It requires lots of effort, and unless you’ve undergone very strenuous training, you shouldn’t even think about reaching a summit.

I know all of this because I’m a mountain climber. I’ve climbed some smaller peaks before. My friend Anthony and I always went together for a climb. This time, we’d moved away from smaller peaks and were ready for a real challenge.

A couple hours ago, Anthony and I had started our ascent up the mountain we’d chosen: a tall departure from previous, 1-2 hour peaks. We’d estimated this would take 5-6, maybe 7 hours.

ÂÂÂÂ At first, we’d walked. But after a few minutes our equipment was required for the steep face of rock.

I estimated it had been two hours since we started. Whenever we had found a large ledge sturdy enough, we would rest for a moment and continue.

Approximately forty-five minutes since our last break, I’d suggested we try moving faster.

This had taken its toll. It was now a whole sixty minutes since our break. Drenched with perspiration, we steadily trudged up the rocky, treacherous face of the mountain.

Finally we reached the end of our ropes, which were fastened to the mountain—our ‘lifelines’.

Standing on the large ledge that I had thrown my rope onto earlier, I contemplated whether or not this ledge was manmade—it was a huge platform that seemed to have been cut out for the sole purpose of my standing there.

I finished a rather large gulp of water and put the bottle back in my backpack. Securing my climbing gear to the lifeline, I tugged on the rope, feeling a little pull, guaranteeing that I was safe. Anthony was doing the same.

“Ready?” I asked.

He was standing on a nearby ledge that was actually quite small, but he would manage. “Right. Let’s go.”

I threw up a part of my gear towards a small, sturdy looking crack. The double spike securely fit in the crack. I tugged on my lifeline to secure it, and began climbing by walking up the rock.

Anthony tried the same, looking at a sturdier crack. The only difference was that he shifted his footing and broke the weak ledge… falling to an almost certain death! He cursed with language that would make a certain Shakespearean monster Caliban go pale.

“ANTHONY!” I yelled, hoping the sound wouldn’t break any rock. I fell down five feet, landed on my firm platform, and grabbed the rope—his failing, flailing lifeline—he had just thrown. I caught it near the end, and he was thirty feet below me. I almost dropped it when the slack went.

“Oh my god, Josh! Nice catch!”

I was freaking out, too. With a shaking voice, I ordered him to slowly climb up, holding onto the lifeline with all my strength.

He almost made it to my ledge when the remaining rocks from his broken ledge fell onto him. He swung wildly to avoid them, making me almost lose my grip. Colliding with the mountain, he sprained his leg and couldn’t climb.

Stuck in a life-or-death situation for Anthony, I did something risky that made it life-or-death for me too. I attached his double spike to a cave-in in my platform. Without thinking, I jumped onto the rope, grabbed it, and helped pull him up. He had a strong lifeline, which was lucky for us both because we weren’t flyweight and he was holding onto a rope that was six feet from questionable safety and hovering above death. I was half on the bulky ledge and half on the rope, in a position that looked humanly impossible and doing something that stunt-masters wouldn’t want to try.

I managed to hold onto the ledge all the while, and as an experienced climber, I managed to pull myself back onto the ledge after I had hauled Anthony to safety, keeping the rope on the ledge. Upper-arm strength comes in handy when you’re hanging on a cliff, hovering over death.

“Anthony, y’all right?”

He hugged me. “Thank you so much, man! You literally just—”

I interrupted. “Don’t exert yourself, man. That’s a bad wound. Take a break.”

“Are you sure? When my wall took a break—”

We laughed heartily at the pun—after all, we could use a little humor after such a recovery.

I’m just glad it ended well.