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.It wasn’t pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but it was much easier and safer.“I just hope no one sees me doing this,” Jack lamented.“How embarrassing.”Swallowing his pride, he started his sideways shuffle up and across the ridge, taking care not to catch his crampons on anything.He clutched his ice axes in both hands and readied them at the first sign of trouble.Little by little he worked his feet and body toward the summit.Looking down over the other side of the ridge, thousands of feet below, sent waves of anxiety throughout his body as he fought to control his fears.“This sucks,” Jack said to himself under his breath.“…And me without an extra pair of underwear.”Fifteen minutes later, Jack completed the traverse and pulled himself up onto the final hill that led to the top.“Oh yes, you're almost in my grasp!” Jack said, as if speaking directly to the mountain's summit.As he walked to the peak, he could see the mountains all around him.They were still covered in clouds but at a much lower elevation.The weather now slowly started to clear out.The sky above the clouds was a brilliant blue, and the sun’s rays made the snow crystals sparkle.Jack was tired, not having slept in a day and a half, but felt alive as adrenaline pumped through his body.A few steps later, Jack had finally achieved his goal.He was now standing on the coffee table-sized summit of Destination B.“Woohoo!” Jack shouted out at the top of his lungs.“Made it… on top of the world.”Jack felt the pride of accomplishment.He felt that, from that day forward, he could face anything anywhere and succeed.He sat at his lofty height and dreamed.Life had new meaning for him.He felt like the world was his, and he couldn’t wait to get home to have it.An hour later, having snapped some photos, he headed down.The descent consisted of many rappels.Where there was snow, he placed in special anchors called ‘flukes’, rappelled down to the end of his rope, set up another fluke and continued rappelling.On ice, he did the same, placing ice screws and rappelling.If he could walk down safely, he did so.The descent carried into darkness, taking more than twelve hours in all to descend to the first night's bivouac just above the northern ridgeline.Looking at his tiny snow cave, he said affectionately, “Home, sweet home.”Jack had been climbing for nearly two days straight and was delirious with exhaustion.As he pulled the rope down from the final anchor, he crawled on his hands and knees to the backpack he had stowed two days before.He rolled on his back and rested a moment.He knew he needed water, but all he wanted to do was sleep.Through his exhaustion, he said, “Okay, let’s get the show on the road.”Jack rolled over and reached for the pack inside the mini cave.He reached in and pulled out his stove, pot, bivy bag and his sleeping bag.With what little strength he had left, he managed to melt some snow while he placed his sleeping bag inside the bivy bag.At his exhaustion level, even the simplest of tasks were difficult.What should have taken ten minutes took thirty.Having already gotten inside his bag, Jack turned off his cooking stove and drank the melted snow from the pot, nearly burning his lips and fingers in the process.The drink was as satisfying as any he had ever had, and he finished the entire contents.With that chore accomplished, he dropped the pot where he laid and threw his head back.His sleep came fast; nearly the instant his head came to rest.There were no dreams.He did not move.He slept deeply, as his body desperately fought to heal itself from the ravages of exhaustion.DAY 4Jack woke the next day as the sun’s rays beat down upon his face.He was still exhausted, but couldn’t continue his rest with the brilliance that radiated off the snow and pierced his eyes.He sat up and leaned against the side of the mountain, trying to clear the fog from his mind.Severely dehydrated and thirsty, he lit his stove and melted more snow for water.In his pack he found a stick of pepperoni he had forgotten and made quick work of it while he quenched his thirst.As he sat and rested, he took in the magnificence of the mountains around him.Aside from an occasional light wind that streamed on by, the silence seemed thunderous.There were no characteristic sounds of humanity anywhere: no machinery or voices.The sound of animal life and nature were equally nonexistent, as there were no barking dogs, chirping birds or leaves and grasses that rustled in the wind.Jack sat and heard nothing.It was very peaceful, yet somewhat unsettling.An hour later, Jack felt stronger and awake enough to descend the last 1,000 feet to the snowfield below.He repacked up his gear, then scouted for a safe descent route.The northern ridgeline, with its snowy face, was too risky to descend from.Jack worked his way around to the eastern face, directly above the snowfield.He found an area more suitable and descended by rappel.The descent was non-eventful and, three hours later, he was down on the snowfield and crossing to his now snow-covered plane.The previous day’s weather left more snow on the snowfield.As Jack trudged across, his boots sunk in up to his knees, and the sun’s rays bore down on him, forcing him to strip down to his t-shirt to stay cool.As the tiny speck of a plane grew in size, so did Jack’s motivation.He picked up the pace and muscled his way through the deep snow.Soaked in sweat and exhausted from post holing for two hours, Jack finally reached his plane.Just as the snowfield was covered under a blanket of fresh new snow, so was Jack’s plane.Using a climber’s shovel, Jack carefully removed all the snow as he prepared it for his flight back to the small airport in San Ramon.The day’s chores ended late.It was nearly 5pm when he finished.With only two hours of sunlight left, there wasn’t enough time to fly back safely.He would need to stay another night.DAY 5The following morning, Jack woke ready for his next adventure: the flight off the snowfield.He didn’t waste any more time melting snow for water or preparing anymore food.He figured he could treat himself to those luxuries back at the airport.Finishing his preflight, he jumped back into the plane and ran through his checklist to start the engine.With everything set, he turned the key and waited for the sight of the propeller windmilling and the engine cranking.He heard nothing.Looking down at the key, he turned it to off, then back to ‘engage’ to start the engine.Still there was nothing but dead silence.Frantically, he turned the key back and forth several times, hoping there was just a bad connection – but again there was only silence.Jack sat thinking.He could hear the sound of his breathing in the quiet cockpit.“Shit, the freakin’ battery’s dead!” he exclaimed, coming to grips with the reality of his situation.Jack decided to try hand-starting the propeller – ‘propping’, as it is called in aviation jargon.He left the key in the ‘on’ position, loosely tied his door open, then came around to the front to ‘prop’ the propeller.He spun the propeller slowly around a couple of times to loosen things up inside the engine, then grabbed the top blade of the propeller and pulled down hard on it.As the propeller rotated down half a turn, nothing happened.The engine sat quiet.“It’s a lawnmower engine… can’t expect it to pop on the first try,” Jack said to himself [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.It wasn’t pretty by any stretch of the imagination, but it was much easier and safer.“I just hope no one sees me doing this,” Jack lamented.“How embarrassing.”Swallowing his pride, he started his sideways shuffle up and across the ridge, taking care not to catch his crampons on anything.He clutched his ice axes in both hands and readied them at the first sign of trouble.Little by little he worked his feet and body toward the summit.Looking down over the other side of the ridge, thousands of feet below, sent waves of anxiety throughout his body as he fought to control his fears.“This sucks,” Jack said to himself under his breath.“…And me without an extra pair of underwear.”Fifteen minutes later, Jack completed the traverse and pulled himself up onto the final hill that led to the top.“Oh yes, you're almost in my grasp!” Jack said, as if speaking directly to the mountain's summit.As he walked to the peak, he could see the mountains all around him.They were still covered in clouds but at a much lower elevation.The weather now slowly started to clear out.The sky above the clouds was a brilliant blue, and the sun’s rays made the snow crystals sparkle.Jack was tired, not having slept in a day and a half, but felt alive as adrenaline pumped through his body.A few steps later, Jack had finally achieved his goal.He was now standing on the coffee table-sized summit of Destination B.“Woohoo!” Jack shouted out at the top of his lungs.“Made it… on top of the world.”Jack felt the pride of accomplishment.He felt that, from that day forward, he could face anything anywhere and succeed.He sat at his lofty height and dreamed.Life had new meaning for him.He felt like the world was his, and he couldn’t wait to get home to have it.An hour later, having snapped some photos, he headed down.The descent consisted of many rappels.Where there was snow, he placed in special anchors called ‘flukes’, rappelled down to the end of his rope, set up another fluke and continued rappelling.On ice, he did the same, placing ice screws and rappelling.If he could walk down safely, he did so.The descent carried into darkness, taking more than twelve hours in all to descend to the first night's bivouac just above the northern ridgeline.Looking at his tiny snow cave, he said affectionately, “Home, sweet home.”Jack had been climbing for nearly two days straight and was delirious with exhaustion.As he pulled the rope down from the final anchor, he crawled on his hands and knees to the backpack he had stowed two days before.He rolled on his back and rested a moment.He knew he needed water, but all he wanted to do was sleep.Through his exhaustion, he said, “Okay, let’s get the show on the road.”Jack rolled over and reached for the pack inside the mini cave.He reached in and pulled out his stove, pot, bivy bag and his sleeping bag.With what little strength he had left, he managed to melt some snow while he placed his sleeping bag inside the bivy bag.At his exhaustion level, even the simplest of tasks were difficult.What should have taken ten minutes took thirty.Having already gotten inside his bag, Jack turned off his cooking stove and drank the melted snow from the pot, nearly burning his lips and fingers in the process.The drink was as satisfying as any he had ever had, and he finished the entire contents.With that chore accomplished, he dropped the pot where he laid and threw his head back.His sleep came fast; nearly the instant his head came to rest.There were no dreams.He did not move.He slept deeply, as his body desperately fought to heal itself from the ravages of exhaustion.DAY 4Jack woke the next day as the sun’s rays beat down upon his face.He was still exhausted, but couldn’t continue his rest with the brilliance that radiated off the snow and pierced his eyes.He sat up and leaned against the side of the mountain, trying to clear the fog from his mind.Severely dehydrated and thirsty, he lit his stove and melted more snow for water.In his pack he found a stick of pepperoni he had forgotten and made quick work of it while he quenched his thirst.As he sat and rested, he took in the magnificence of the mountains around him.Aside from an occasional light wind that streamed on by, the silence seemed thunderous.There were no characteristic sounds of humanity anywhere: no machinery or voices.The sound of animal life and nature were equally nonexistent, as there were no barking dogs, chirping birds or leaves and grasses that rustled in the wind.Jack sat and heard nothing.It was very peaceful, yet somewhat unsettling.An hour later, Jack felt stronger and awake enough to descend the last 1,000 feet to the snowfield below.He repacked up his gear, then scouted for a safe descent route.The northern ridgeline, with its snowy face, was too risky to descend from.Jack worked his way around to the eastern face, directly above the snowfield.He found an area more suitable and descended by rappel.The descent was non-eventful and, three hours later, he was down on the snowfield and crossing to his now snow-covered plane.The previous day’s weather left more snow on the snowfield.As Jack trudged across, his boots sunk in up to his knees, and the sun’s rays bore down on him, forcing him to strip down to his t-shirt to stay cool.As the tiny speck of a plane grew in size, so did Jack’s motivation.He picked up the pace and muscled his way through the deep snow.Soaked in sweat and exhausted from post holing for two hours, Jack finally reached his plane.Just as the snowfield was covered under a blanket of fresh new snow, so was Jack’s plane.Using a climber’s shovel, Jack carefully removed all the snow as he prepared it for his flight back to the small airport in San Ramon.The day’s chores ended late.It was nearly 5pm when he finished.With only two hours of sunlight left, there wasn’t enough time to fly back safely.He would need to stay another night.DAY 5The following morning, Jack woke ready for his next adventure: the flight off the snowfield.He didn’t waste any more time melting snow for water or preparing anymore food.He figured he could treat himself to those luxuries back at the airport.Finishing his preflight, he jumped back into the plane and ran through his checklist to start the engine.With everything set, he turned the key and waited for the sight of the propeller windmilling and the engine cranking.He heard nothing.Looking down at the key, he turned it to off, then back to ‘engage’ to start the engine.Still there was nothing but dead silence.Frantically, he turned the key back and forth several times, hoping there was just a bad connection – but again there was only silence.Jack sat thinking.He could hear the sound of his breathing in the quiet cockpit.“Shit, the freakin’ battery’s dead!” he exclaimed, coming to grips with the reality of his situation.Jack decided to try hand-starting the propeller – ‘propping’, as it is called in aviation jargon.He left the key in the ‘on’ position, loosely tied his door open, then came around to the front to ‘prop’ the propeller.He spun the propeller slowly around a couple of times to loosen things up inside the engine, then grabbed the top blade of the propeller and pulled down hard on it.As the propeller rotated down half a turn, nothing happened.The engine sat quiet.“It’s a lawnmower engine… can’t expect it to pop on the first try,” Jack said to himself [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]