Lost on the Mountain, Part Four

I was so cold I could hardly move. I was inching my way up a steep wall of sandy rock. Somewhere up there above our heads was the trail that would lead us down the mountain to safety, but I was no longer sure I had it in me to make it that far.

We no longer tried to stay together. We did what we could do, at the pace we could. Every breath was a prayer, and every step was of hope that we would soon find the trail. But doubt was creeping in. I couldn’t think straight. I was just too cold.

Unconsciously I made small goals for myself. If I could just get to the next rock or the next ledge, I could rest for a moment. Numbly I repeated this over and over, and slowly I rose higher. I had lost all sense of time. It must be one or two in the morning.

Finally I really thought I could not go any further. I clung vertically to the mountain, wishing I could lie down. My limbs were moving so slow that I almost wasn’t moving at all anymore. Up about fifty feet there was a rocky ledge. If I could just make it there, maybe I would let myself give up. This could be my last goal. I was just too cold and too tired. I would lie down and stop.

The promise of letting myself give up was enough of an incentive to make me move slowly up to that ledge. With the anticipation of being able to finally have a spot to lie down, I climbed hand and foot over hand and foot. I was vaguely aware of Laura about twenty feet below me, slowly moving as I was.

Then I reached the ledge. I grasped it and pulled myself up. I lay down on my back, heart pounding. A few minutes later Laura collapsed next to me. We had done all we could. Now it was up to God to answer our cries for help.