Death #48:
Ain’t No Mountain High Enough
By Karin
Nick was thankful to be somewhat alone. For most of the cruise, it
was he, Brian, Howie, and AJ, as well as around 1,200 fans. Twenty four hours a
day.
He was ready for some alone time.
Or as alone as he could get on the cruise.
For his excursion, Nick decided to go rock climbing. He figured
only the fittest fans would be interested. No, he didn’t pick it to get away
from the fatties, he just figured that up on the side of the cliff, it would be
he, the cliff, and his belayer. All the others rock climbing with him would
disappear.
As the group hiked closer to the cliff face, more and more fans
hung back and eventually disappeared, realizing this wasn’t a joke. In the end,
it turned out to be himself and only about four others. The instructors walked
everyone through the basics, then the small group was on their way, scaling up
the side of the cliff.
Nick was so lost in thought he hadn’t been securing his line to
the wall at all.
For most climbers who knew what they were doing it wasn’t that big
of a deal. Yes, it was dangerous, but they could just hook into the next safety
to make sure if they fell, they wouldn’t fall too hard.
But Nick wasn’t an avid climber by any stretch of the imagination.
When he realized he hadn’t been securing his line, he just figured he would continue
without it. Nothing had happened yet, he doubted he would actually need it.
Wrong.
His next step, his fingers lost their grip on the cliff. His fingernails
came off as he scrambled for a hold, but in his panic, his feet lost their hold
as well.
As Nick fell 60 feet below, he kept thinking
“Maybe I should’ve picked Jet Skiing…”
***