I climbed down to a ledge and cleaned off my wounds, drank some water, had a bar, and started my decent into the crevice underneath. I had a good two hours before it would be dark. I tried to map out a way that would be the easiest to go down, and then back up again. After I planned this out, I tediously shoved my pick into ice, climbed on small ledges in between gaps in the rocks, and made my way down. The pain mentally was unbearable and I realized this was the only way I could make things right was by doing what I was doing. The pain in my chest was something that wasn’t perfect, but I had to overcome it, otherwise, I wouldn’t physically be able to do this. The pain in my arms and legs ached ever so much, and with every step, they worsened. The sun was just setting over the mountains, when I came upon a ledge. I looked down and picked up the blood-covered pickaxe. I figured it must’ve been Philip’s because there was no way there could be blood on Rodgers’s pick. I decided to stay the night on the ledge. I took out my solo tent and sleeping bag and closed my eyes. All I was able to dream about was the vision of them both falling. I replayed it in my mind over and over again until I realized sleep wasn’t going to be an option. Around two in the morning, I packed my stuff, got my headlamp, and kept climbing downwards. As I was climbing down, I would occasionally see areas of the impact and splatters of blood. I followed the trails until sunrise. By then I could see where they had fallen. I hadn’t realized how long it had taken to fall hundreds of feet as opposed to walking them. I put my light away as the sun was directly in my face, glistening in the snow as it creaked over the mountain ever so majestically. I had finally reached the bottom of the valley, but was oblivious to the two figures to the right of me. Instead, I took my two picks, and dug two large holes in the dirt mixed with snow. I walked over to Philip, took a pulse, found none, and then closed his eyes. I unhooked him from Rodgers. I took off his backpack and laid him in the hole. I then proceeded to cover the hole with dirt and put a stone and the front of where he was buried. I then went over to where Rodgers was. However, I found a small pulse. Enlightened, I proceeded to pat his face a few times. I didn’t know how close to death he was. I then sat there for a minute and let the fact that I wouldn’t be able to save him sink in I realized that I would have to kill him. I sat there for a while speechless, unable to think, process anything. I was empty. I then stood up, tears streaming down my face, and ran into the wall screaming. I didn’t know why, for how long, or anything else of the matter. I then turned around at Rodgers and started screaming at him, but then I started criticizing myself. I then went silent. I walked back over to Where Rodgers lay, ever so helpless, leaned right in his ear and said, “ I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill you. If I could’ve I would’ve saved you, you know that? Right?” I started mumbling nonsense over tears, but then, through the blood, I heard him say something. Something I would never forget. Through the blood in his throat, he gurgled, “its… its okay. It’s not your fault. I… I forgive you.” I had known he was dying, so, I brushed away my tears and did the same with him as I had done with Philip. Before I walked away from where they were buried, I said, “thank you.”

Even with the supplies that Philip and Rodgers had, I was still short on food. To get out of this canyon would take at least two days and an extreme amount of energy. Once I got out of here, it would be significantly easier as the terrain is much flatter, but nonetheless, that will still take at least a week. It would also not go by as quickly, because my two friends were gone. I then realized that I would be able to survive and although the other wouldn’t, I would live for them. I had finally felt whole even though I had been shattered permanently. I stood upright with my knees locked, arms down, my head up, and embraced the feeling of righteousness as the warm sun parched my face. I then walked towards the mighty wall, looked up all the way to the top, and with a forceful swing, my pick was now in the ice. I then shoved my crampon into the torturous terrain as I slowly made my way up the upright, flat wall of ice covered in stalactites. I reached up and put my pick firmly in the ice as I pulled up my entire weight hanging by a single strip of metal. I swung my foot into the ground and then put my other pick into the wall so I could take my other one out. I had about another good 100 vertical feet to climb before I would be able to easily boulder my way to the top of the colossal rocks holding up the thin, sheets of ice, which I was depending on for my life. The sun was directly overhead when I had gotten to the easier part of my voyage. I sat down for a minute, took off my crampons and put them in my bag along with one of my two picks. I hiked for about three hours and covered a total vertical distance of a couple hundred feet. I was almost at the top, but I had one more feat to overcome, but it was also the hardest one. The wall of ice was at a perfect 90 degree for about twenty-five feet, but then there was an overhang that went out at least ten feet. The main problem was that I had no safety equipment hooked on to me, and there was also a significant amount of ice that was melting away. The sun was setting over the horizon igniting the sky into a fire of gorgeous colors. I thought to myself that there would be no better time to get over this than now. I reassembled my crampons to my boots, placed a pick in each hand and got busy. The sun had created a dark silhouette of me making it somewhat hard to see. By the time I had reached the under hang, I was already drained of every drop of energy, dripping with sweat. I took a break, and I begun to dangle, slowly, from side to side with my crampons and picks firmly in the ice. Everything was silent, even the gentle sway of my breath. I then looked above me, and slowly took out one of my picks from the ice, wiggling it from side to side until it fell out. With a deep breath, I swung my arm back to create momentum for me to place it in the upside down rock. When it was firmly placed in, I followed the same steps as before with the next pick. I now had to dislodge my feet from the ice and begin the torturous climb with my feet dangling helplessly below me. I tried to move quickly, yet diligently as to not make a mistake and get to the top as quickly as possible. With sweat running down my hand, I grasped the one pick tightly as I was forced to throw my other one out from the ice causing me to be attached to life by a single metal sheet. In a state of surreal danger, I threw my other pick into the ice nonchalantly as I began to make my way across. The climb was feeling very animated and fake, perhaps because of my lack of water and food. Strange thoughts rushed through my head, one after another, none related to the last, but they kept coming. I started thinking of what brought me out here, I tried to remember the last time I ate, I thought of my home, when suddenly, to my horror, my pick slipped and fell through my hands and down into the bottom of the valley. I was now stuck with only one pick mildly stuck into the ice. I immediately thought of my possible options for survival, however, I was at a loss. I dangled on the ledge for about five minutes surveying my options, when I decided that my crampon might work as a makeshift ice pick. The problem was getting it off my foot. I made sure the pick was tight in the ice above me, and then looked down at my feet. The glare of the sun setting made it even harder to see. I curled up into a cocoon shape and began unhooking my left crampon, one clip at a time. At this time, I was about half way through the overhang. I grabbed the back of the crampon and proceeded to throw it into the ice above me. To my dismay, the claws were not large enough to go into the mountain, and I was unable to put it back on my foot. I had no choice but to drop it. I watched as the pick got smaller and smaller as it twirled and twisted with the wind below me and fell and fell until I could no longer see it. I stared in awe for a minute ignoring my other problems. I came to the realization that I probably wouldn’t be coming out of this in one piece, so I grabbed the latch of my glove with my mouth and unattached it until I could feel the cold breeze of wind and ice hit my hand. I looked above me to where I could see solid rock with a sizeable hold for me to grab with my hand. Since I had decided to venture up this route, I decided to grab the hold strongly, while taking my other glove off as I had previously and throwing it onto the rock above. I did the same with the pick. I was now free climbing vertically through ice and snow covered rock that seemed to rip my hand apart. Despite the pain, I now had more movement, which was nice. From the point at which I was at, it would surely be only a few more minutes of climbing. The vertical climb slowly got flatter and flatter until I could no longer see beneath me. It was at this point I fell over on my knees with a mixture of exhaustion, sorrow, and thankfulness. I decided I would sleep in that spot tonight.

My Hands were frozen from frostbite making them numb with pain. I had no choice but to suffer it for now. I took out of my small bag a small, kerosene fire starter. I put a bowl over the stove and got out a can of beans. I took my pick and opened it part way. I tried to pry the rest of it, but failed miserably. I made several more holes in the can before I could pour it out. I tried to conserve as much energy as I could since I had an abysmally small amount of food left. With my canister, I filled it with ice, then removed the bowl and put it over the fire and waited for the ice to melt. Then I heated the water. Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the soft, cry of a pack of wolves. Their cries were incessant through the night. Among my exhaustion, I could not sleep. I tossed and turned all night, watching as the clouds above me slowly swayed in harmony with the cool winter wind. Despite everything, I did not think that night, simply watched, in amazement. I watched as the moon slowly crept high into the sky until it was directly above me. It shined gracefully down upon me, as I looked up in awe at it. I watched as it set into the morning sky and hide itself among the sun’s glory. The first, warm heat of the sun was astounding; I had never felt anything so majestic in my life. However, since there was no shade at the top of the mountain, it wasn’t long before the sun was no longer my friend. I took off one of my jackets and put it into my bag along with everything else.
The trek from here was relatively easy, compared to the previous one. The trek was a steady, steep decline covered with a fresh layer of white glistening snow. I could hear my feet making crunching noises below me and birds cawing above me. I hiked down this trail for about an hour than stopped. I looked back at where I was previously; the menacing crevice filled with death and sorrow, but somehow life and ecstasy. I turned away and kept on my way. At my rate, I was a good day before I would reach the alpine region of the mountain and another before civilization. I was so caught up with my emotions; I started to become imprudent of my surrounding. I forgot that on these parts of the mountains, there are cracks hundreds of feet deep buried under the ground covered by only thin sheets of powder. Honing in back on the reality of the situation I was in, I took much more caution with each step, yet kept my pace. I couldn’t wait to reach humanity again. It had only been a few days, but they had been speechless days, and it made them much more lonely. I had been alone with my thoughts for days, and soon started talking to myself in whole conversations. I didn’t know how much sanity was left in me. Night was falling when I was just reaching where the dirt meets the snow in a dirty collision of twigs and mud. I found a rather dry spot on top of a rock and fell asleep within seconds.
I awoke at the crack of dawn, hoping to not waste a second of time. Since I hadn’t taken anything out to prepare for the night, I saved myself a few minutes of time. The air was crisp in the morning with a cool breeze to accompany it. I took out my other jacket and was instantaneously impervious to the conditions. I could hear birds chirping in harmony with the suns arising. For the first time in days, I could feel a smile be sweep across my face. I felt relaxed and calm in the midst of all the unfortunate, unforgettable events. I strolled down the mountain leisurely and soon found myself accompanying the birds with a whistle. It wasn’t long before the sun was strong overhead and soon found myself taking off the jacket I just previously put on. At one point I came across a stream with water splashing along the sides and with large salmon swimming up the stream. I knew now that I was close to the bottom of the mountain and my journey was almost to an end. A wave of joy hit me like summer after a school year. But I was then reminded of my two friends who had perished amongst the great mount of the mountain. There is nothing I can do or ever could’ve of done to save them. It is now my responsibility to keep their legacies going, that is why I must finish my journey. It was well into the afternoon when I first noticed a trail, yes, a manmade trail. It was the first clear sign of civilization in far too long. Overjoyed, I began running down its long and winding pass down the mountain, but quickly found that to be a bad idea. Within seconds, I was out of breath, on the ground panting. I thought about what a shame it would be to die right here because of my ignorance and impulsivity. After this mistake, I decided to walk easily down the rest of the mountain. I had been so overjoyed; I had forgotten how weak I had become.
It wasn’t long before I saw two people walking up the trail. They were talking amongst each other about their daily life and what not. One was a tall lean man who seemed to tower over his friend. The first had a small stubble and wore glasses. He had a nice head of brown hair. His friend on the other hand was probably 15 years younger than him and not taller than 5ft 2in. As we walked pass one another they casually said to me, “hey, how’s it going?”
“Fine, how about yourselves?” It had been so long since I had said anything and I hadn’t realized how crackly and deep my voice had started to sound. Still, I couldn’t ask for anything more than to be able to interact with another human being.
“We’re great, we hiked up from the Dragons Scale Pass, its simply outstanding. I highly recommend you go down that way.”
“Well actually, do you know the quickest way d0wn?”
“I guess you should just keep going down the one you’re on and you’ll be down within a few hours.”
“Thank you very much. Have a great day!”
“ Hah, we sure will, you too!” I never knew what compelled me to tell them to have a good day, but for some reason, it came naturally; it was unintentional, but it felt good. Two hours into my decent, I could see buildings from a small city that was at the base of the mountain. It felt so nice that I was going to make the journey and be able to tell the tale. It was sometime around six and the sun was just about going down. If I hurried, I thought, than I might me able to make it to the bottom before the sun sets. It was to my dismay however, I was wrong to two counts; first, I tried to rush down the mountain with my last gush of energy, and second, I thought I could make it down the rest of the way in an hour. By now, I was still a good mile from the bottom, and could no longer stand up. I knew my time and options were limited. I couldn’t set up a tent, but I could take shelter behind a bush. Hopefully by morning, I would have regained my strength. It was a warm night and the coyotes cried loud tonight. But a few, seemed to get closer with every howl. I however, could not see them, so I figured they couldn’t see me with my clever disguise. However, I thought wrong. An ear piercing howl was released just feet from, then silence. Sweat ran down my face because I knew if they found me, with my legs in a paralysis, I was as good as dead, just like Rodgers and Philip. The thought of them was the only thing that gave me the will to live; I couldn’t die so close to surviving and kill the legacy of Rodgers and Philip. Suddenly, I was broken from my temporary trance with the violent shaking of brush feet from me. Knowing that my cover was not sufficient enough to ward of these beasts or hide me any longer. My only option was to fight. Screaming, I broke off a stick and shoved it at one of the coyotes. A small whimper was released followed by aggressive gnawing on my stick. My stick had turned from a stick to a twig within seconds. I suddenly remembered the kerosene stove I had in my bag. I pulled the bag out from under me as the coyotes continued making their way through the thick foliage. I turned it on, but there was only enough left to make a dull flame barely visible. Annoyed with my lack of options, I threw it into the crowd of coyotes. On of them began to eat its way through it and soon the whole area smelled of gasoline. It wasn’t long before I could feel the soft, dirty fur of the coyotes. Shocked, I didn’t dare move, however that was a stupid decision. Seconds later, I could feel the horrific pain of teeth breaking my skin and going to the bone. I screamed with pain; pain for myself, and the pain that Rodgers and Philip had to go through, and that now, I was going to be incapable of letting anyone know of their bravery and strength because of the lack of mine. Minutes more of jaw dropping pain before I went black and soon, all of my efforts, everything I had every done and will ever do was gone, nonexistent, just as Rodgers and Philip who had gone before me. I was what was left of three people, but I gave it up, all so a few coyotes could have a tasty dinner. What a waste.