i hung suspended
a hundred feet above the rocks
the Grand Teton beyond my shoulder
my boots against yellow green lichen
i knew this was it
we begged our instructor to rappel again
“look,” he said
“you only rappel as the last resort.
it can get you dead.”
years later on a darkening wall
i was again suspended on a rope
hurrying to get down
before dark pinned us high
without food or warmth
above, he called down
“don’t bounce on the rope”
i stopped, feet on the wall
leaning out i could dimly see him above
“find a place to stop,” he said
tip-toeing down
the rope softly slipping through my rig
i got my feet on something
my hands jammed into a crack
the rope jumped and moved about until he said
“ok. go slow.”
we got down at full dark
left the jammed rope on the wall
stumbled and slid down the dark steep mile to the truck
later at the noisy bar
over burgers and beer he said
“the anchor was coming out.”
i thought about this
“it would have been ok. i was almost to a ledge.”
” no,” he said
“you would have come off. dropped like a rock”
we went back the next day
to retrieve the jammed rope
standing on the ground where i almost died
a corner was turned
another road taken
epiphany can come in strange ways
The Ace Hotel Notebook 