Marked by The Mountain

It all stemmed from that electric moment.

I was in the slow continuous slog of the ascent up Mount Hyland with my friend Dev and my dog Achilles. My mind in a dull anger from romantic and financial concerns, but the sharpness of these feelings dissipated with each upward step. I liked the mountains for this reason. I had begged to be soothed by the mountains, and the mountains had heeded my call. For days, I climbed, skied and looked back at my signature penned on the mountain canvass. I had no idea that the slate was about to be wiped clean.

The mountains shone in the resplendent dusk, with one easy lap left before dinner. Our awareness was dulled by the simple terrain and easy objectives. After numerous bigger descents in the Babine Mountains, our confidence in the slope was good.

We were the perfect victims.

I felt the mountain move, seeing nothing changing but feeling everything. When the chaos hit and the slab broke apart, I fell towards death, grabbing onto small islands of hope, small trees that had stood the onslaught of time and the power of the mountain. I was lost within this madness.

Caught between two trees, I stood against the wave. I came up for a breath before my skis gave way. I was carried; head below, towards the bottom. Again, I caught something in the wave. I held on. The white chaos washed over me. My muscles strained as the torrent opened around me. In an instant, I was staring at the growing depths below me. I had escaped the mountain’s retribution.

I yelled a primal release and then shouted above to Dev, who had also escaped. We rejoiced in our good fortune.

We did not think of Achilles at first, my dog of 3 years. He had the senses of the wild, chasing prey like few animals could. But, as the initial shakes and joy wore off, my voice grew hoarse as my calls echoed the quiet peaks unanswered.

Dev and I began probing the rubble. It was deep. The probe had no hope of reaching the depths of its tombs. How close I had been to joining him. Still despair had no place in the search; thinking would come later. Darkness fell and we continued the search, small specks of headlamps probing the debris field. Down, right, left, step, down, right, left, step. With every step the prospect of loss grew.

I had last seen him at the foot of the hill, his canine smile and sparkling eyes disappearing ahead. It was impossible to believe that he was under the cold hard blocks of the shattered mountain.  

Hours passed and in the dark, Achilles, less fortunate than us survivors, was abandoned in his final resting place. On the mountain, I stood alone, relinquishing control and accepting defeat. I turned off my pale blue light and embraced the silent darkness.

I only realized afterward how I would miss Achilles by my side. He and I traveled the forest with our roaming minds for company. We searched for meaning in the mountains. He watched my back while I slept by the fire, he had charged that angry mother bear... We had been ski partners until the end.

Alone in the darkness, I wept.  

…

Led Zeppelin cranks out of the speaker in the tattoo parlor. I sit in the chair, nervous. This is my first tattoo. The gun buzzes and I feel the needle do its magic on my back. Afterwards, I look in the mirror and on my shoulder is Achilles hovering over the very peak I had lost him on.

As I look in the mirror, I see two loves looking back at me; the mountains and the friend I lost to them. It’s a reminder that I should never take either for granted. The mountains will provide years of joy and fulfillment but I have an important message inked on my back. Love the mountains, but know how unforgiving they are to complacency.

I smile at the visage of my fallen friend, lost to the mountains but always found in memory. Now, he’ll watch my back for the rest of my life. It is time to skin up and return. A new season awaits and I will greet it as a man marked by the mountain.