Moment of Intensity

Deep in the Canadian Mountains lay the place some know as Strathcona Park. To me it seems more like the place that I was put against deaths will, in this place that some will call majestic. The jagged stone of a mysterious plateau covers my memory. Stretching millions of miles against the dark sky, to a kid it does seem that way. Not a patch of sun peeked its head out. All of the hopeful light is being trapped by consuming, greedy clouds. Trees stretch toward the sky but get zapped back by the powerful hands of lightning. Mass numbers of charred black trees, snapped and lying on the ground, await my vision. An inlet in the side of a streaming grey landform is where I stay hung as if stuck by an invisible barrier.
I look down and hear the constant screaming of my parents. “Grab the rope and climb down!” My hands are bleeding from the cuts slashed across my hands and knees. That well known sting, like stabbing needles into my flesh, accompanies me, a constant reminder of a time when I was little…
How proud I was when I got my first bike. I can remember the first time sitting on it. When my dad let go, I felt a sudden lurch in my stomach and then a dropping feeling. My knee hit the ground hard and then that all too well known pain came at me like an Olympic sprinter. The blood from my left knee was all too evident.
My mind comes back into play. All I can taste is the mixture of blood and salty tears. I know I need to stop sucking on the wound but I can’t stop. As soon as the tears mix with the open cut, I pulled it away. The sting suddenly intensifies. I silently think to myself.
I’m on a mountain with a huge cut and I can’t get down. If I don’t get down, I’m going to die of blood loss.
The panic sets in motion. As soon as the word die crosses my mind, it is too much to handle. The once clear vision that I thought I had goes spastic. Everything goes blurry. The distorted sounds of all but faded away. The crystal clear rock that some would describe as “HD” changed to a more “Mario” scene. Or like a rave when the black flickering light is turned on and you can see your movements like you’re in slow motion. The harness I am wearing is tight now…my breathing is uncontrollable.
That’s it, I think to myself. The harness jogs my memory. Early that morning I awake to the sound of my mother’s voice, “Were going climbing today, get your stuff ready”.
Having to sit through the safety lesson on how to repel down, in case we were ever stuck on the mountain, “Who needs to know that?” The vision that was once hazed becomes 20/20. The distorted sounds become clearer and clearer and less faint. I hear a rock fall. Coming from overhead is the instructor. “Hold on,” he says. Took you long enough, I think to myself. Within no time I’m prepared for the journey down. Lying backwards dangling by a thin piece of rope isn’t very fun. My feet leave the surface. I slide down the slope with such prestige that most could think I’m a natural. The familiar slap of my hiking boots against a flat rock vibrates. I open my eyes…I’m on the ground…I’m safe!
-- Cooper Siville