Photo: Grant Gunderson

Floating
By ANDY RUMBLE

I hear no noise, I see no sight but the scene before me. A cold shiver creeps down my spine. The anticipation is beyond measure. How many years have I waited for this moment? Dreaming and scheming all for this—will it be worth it? I stand on the edge of the unknown. My knees begin to shake, my vision blurs. The pressure to perform without flaw is enormous. To fail would bring torment and pain for a long time to come. I shake the thought from my head and try to regain the focus needed to accomplish the task. If I don't go soon, it'll never happen. With a rush of do-or-die, I give a final shove and go.

The feeling of floating and the rush of adrenaline confirm my hopes—it is worth it. A thousand emotions and thoughts race through my mind. The never-ending beauty of this feeling is overpowering. I hope it will never stop, but I know the end is coming, far sooner then I'm ready for. Then in a slightly painful buckling of the knees and back, along with an enormous roar of blood rushing in my ears, I know it is done.

The world is unseen. Only the moment of the final rush is felt. My breath and heart are still racing as my senses begin to clear. Reality returns with a jolt and in the first chance I've had in what seems like forever, I view my surroundings again. There is light, and with it a beautiful, floating, cool whiteness. I look to see what gave me this sensation and there before me, in all its glory, is Corbets Couloir, filling my vision. I see it for the first time from the bottom. I've made it.

I brush away the snow, plant my poles, and shove off. It's time to go again.


                                                                                        Next: number 3


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