“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered, looking down the steep cliff.
” ‘course you can lad, ‘course you can,” my indefatigable Scottish guide, Duncan, said, his usual stone face not changed a bit.
Margaret looked on from her safe perch further up the mountainside, cozily ensconced in her Grade A parka.
I grasped the rope, steadied my booted feet, and took the first leap.
Dying so young for the sake of not appearing cowardly in the eyes of a woman is the stupidest of all reasons.
I was already going down faster than planned.
“Steady now, steady,” Duncan’s stentorian voice reverberated against the rock faces.
Steady is a figure of speech when you are subject to the irrevocable laws of nature..
The rope tightened as Duncan increased his safety pressure but my descent did not become any safer – or slower.
I was sweating. Fear rose from my stomach, filling my mouth with bitter reflux.
I slipped and banged against the granite, my helmeted head the first to feel the bang.
You should have never tried.