Himalayas
“You’re a lucky SOB,” Pax said as he eyeballed the ridgeline. We stood side by side in full gear, my snowboard strapped to my back. But I had crampons for ice climbing clipped on my boots, and Pax definitely did not.
“In what way?” I asked, my thoughts trailing to how Rachel had looked this morning, curled into me like she was meant to be. I’d kissed her, and for those rare, precious moments, she’d let me—and kissed me back.
God, she’d tasted like summer days in the middle of January, like hope, and home, and everything I’d been searching for since the last time I’d kissed her. But then she’d pulled back, and I couldn’t blame her.
I wouldn’t trust me, either.
“In the you-have-one-good-day-of-weather-and-a-new-foot-of-powder-up-there way,” Pax clarified.
“Yeah, that,” I said, nodding.
“Don’t do that,” he lectured, crossing his arms over his chest in a crinkle of cold-weather gear.
“Do what?”
“Get distracted. Not today. I’m well aware of where you spent last night, and I get it. Leah drove me out of my damned mind. But you and Rachel…” He shook his head.
“I’m fine.”
“She wasn’t the curse. You know that, right?” he asked.
I looked over to where Rachel stood with Leah, the short black strands of her hair peeking out from her Jones snowboarding cap. “I was,” I answered quietly.
“You were,” he agreed. “I brought her here, and hell, I’m glad you survived a night next to her without claw marks of the nonsexual variety. But you cannot be distracted, not today. Not with twenty-one thousand feet trying to kill you. Understand?”
I clapped him on the back in understanding. “I love you, too, brother. I’ve trained for this, I’m as acclimatized as I’m going to get, and I wish you were headed up with me. I’ve got this.”
He took a deep breath, exhaling in a burst of steam. “Okay, then fire up the helicopter and get up that ridgeline. Today is the only day you get.”
“Then today is my day.”
We made the last preparations while the pilot preflighted the chopper. It was eleven a.m. and the sky was crystal blue, but I knew tomorrow wouldn’t be the same story.
And if we stayed any longer, we’d miss the ship’s departure, so today was my only opportunity. Bobby checked out the GoPros, clumsy with heavily gloved fingers, and told us to make sure we didn’t go until the small biplane they’d rented was passing the ridge.
“You know the chopper can’t hold that altitude, so get the hell off it the moment it touches the ridgeline,” Bobby warned us.
“We got it,” I assured him when I saw the same fear Pax wore flicker across his face. It seemed like everyone was on edge except Gabe, Alex, and me. But maybe my adrenaline was masking it.
The human body was spectacular.
As we started to make our way toward the helicopter, Rachel called my name. “Go ahead,” I told the guys, and they continued to the chopper.
“What’s up?” I asked her once she was close enough to kiss.
She tugged her lower lip between her teeth momentarily. “The powder actually makes it more dangerous. Easier for traction than ice, of course, but—”
“More prone to avalanche,” I finished.
“Right. Just watch your lines, make sure you’re keeping an eye on the slough. That one line on the left looks to be the safest, but I know you’ll shoot for its big brother on the right.”
“I could kiss you right now,” I said, my smile so wide I nearly cracked my lips where the altitude had already ravaged them. The slough—the loose snow that I’d bring with me on the ride down—was always a concern, but more so after a snowstorm piled powder onto an icy spine like that ridge.
“What? You will not.”
“I didn’t say I would, I said I could.” It took every ounce of willpower in my body to leave my hands hanging at my sides and not reach for her.
“That kiss didn’t mean anything.” She lifted up her sunglasses, like the way her eyebrows arched could convince me that she meant it.
“Okay,” I teased.
“Landon,” she warned.
“Hey, at least if I die it will be with your kiss on my lips.”
Her eyes widened, and she sputtered. “That’s…that’s not funny!”
I laughed. “Relax, Rachel. Nothing’s going to happen, not when I’ve got this to look forward to.”
“Hey, Casanova, you want to hop this bird or what?” Alex called into my radio.
Her eyes hardened, and I could have kicked that asshole for reminding her what I’d turned into. “You’d better go, Nova,” she said quietly.
“Do me a favor and man the radio? I know Little John came back this morning, but you always were the best at picking out a clean line.”
She blinked, her defenses softening the tiniest bit, but I’d take it.
“Okay.”
“See you in a few, Rach.”
As I turned to walk to where the chopper threw up a small snowstorm, she called out, “It didn’t mean anything!”
“Who you trying to convince? Me or you?” I yelled back over the hum of the rotors.
I wore a smile as we lifted off a few moments later, launching into the sky despite the thin air. We’d hired the only company in Nepal stupid enough to risk a flight for fun at this altitude, but even they wouldn’t take us to the summit of the ridge.
The world below fell away as the ridgeline came closer, and my adrenaline cranked a notch. There was no room for fear up here, only precision, instinct, and guts. Fear and indecision got you killed.
“Right there,” the pilot said in heavily accented English as we approached the landing spot at the highest point on the ridgeline he could manage. “You must exit quickly. I cannot maintain a hover at this altitude.”
“Roger,” I said.
We opened the doors and unbuckled, readying ourselves.
“Now,” he instructed.
We bailed out.
The jump was only a couple of feet, and I dug my boots in as I caught my balance. Within seconds the chopper headed down the opposite side of the ridgeline to thicker air.
“Everyone okay?” I asked as the guys stood.
“Here,” Alex answered.
“Yup.” Gabe nodded, then looked down at the same time I did at the perfect forty-five-degree angle that sloped both sides. One misstep and we weren’t boarding this ridge. We’d be tumbling.
“Well, looks like there’s only one way down now,” Alex joked.
“Second thoughts?” I asked, pulling down my goggles to keep the wind from attacking my eyes. We’d only climbed an additional three thousand feet in the helicopter, but I felt it in the burn of my lungs.
“Nawh. Wouldn’t matter anyway,” he joked. “Kind of committed here.”
But what a place to be committed. We took the moment to look around us, and the sight stole whatever breath the altitude didn’t. Frosted in new white snow, the Himalayas spread out before us in a display of mind-blowing perfection.
“Throne room of the gods,” Alex muttered.
I nodded in agreement, too overcome to say anything. How could I when Everest rose in my line of sight? This was the stuff of dreams—of legends.
My hand rose to the radio that hung between my left shoulder and neck, pressing the button with my thick gloves. “Rachel?”
A few moments of static followed before she answered.
“I’m here. You guys okay?”
“Yeah. I just wish you could see this.”
“Is it everything you dreamed?” Her voice sounded miles away and yet had never felt closer.
“It’s perfect.” Because you’re here, too.
Maybe it was the thin air that brought clarity to my mind, but I was filled with the kind of certainty I’d only ever felt about stunts.
I was going to win her back. Not just her friendship. Her heart. Her love.
Maybe I wasn’t worthy of any of it now, but I could be. I could earn her.
“I’m glad to hear it,” she said, and I wished she’d heard my thoughts, my resolve, but I knew she wasn’t ready for it. I’d scare her away if I said anything.
Pax’s voice came across the radio. “You guys better get a move on.”
I could have laughed. Twenty thousand feet in the air, another thousand feet to climb, and I still had Rachel on the brain. “Going now,” I said. “You guys ready?”
“Lead the way,” Alex said, motioning up the ridgeline. He passed the rope, and Gabe hooked on, then me. If one went down, we could catch him. If two…well…probably not.
I tucked my gaiter around the lower portion of my face to keep the wind at bay and started the long, cold, deep trek up the ridgeline. We sank to our knees in snow in places, to our ankles in others as we made our way, our breathing ragged.
Maybe I wasn’t as acclimatized as I thought.
Knowing what to watch for, I did a quick self-assessment. I wasn’t dizzy, no headaches, no vision issues—just fighting for air that wasn’t there.
Two hours later we made the summit.
“Holy. Shit,” I said, breathing between words as I hit my ass on the only bare piece of rock I found. We took out our waters, hydrating the best we could for the next half hour while we caught our breath and prepared, discussing the lines.
“I’m not sure about this one,” Alex said. “I saw a cherry line a little farther back.”
“Ride whatever you’re most comfortable with,” I said as I took off my crampons and stored them in my pack, ready to strap on my board. Then I looked down over the line I’d come here for. “I might need a belay over this first part.”
“I can do that,” Alex offered. “Gabe?”
He looked down and cringed. “What do you think that is? Sixty degrees?”
“Sixty-five,” I answered.
“Fuuuuuck,” he drawled. “Well, it looks epic.”
“Epic is as epic does,” I answered.
“I’ll go with you. Alex, you okay solo?”
“Yeah, I got this,” he answered, already readying ropes through his harness.
I hit the button on the radio. “Rach?”
“Here,” she answered, her voice better than a hit of oxygen. “You holding up?”
“Yeah. We’re rested and I think about ready to drop in to the line. I’m feeling the one on rider’s left.”
Her laughter came through the radio. “Of course you are. Okay, rider’s left it is. Watch that secondary chute and steer clear, there’s a cliff midway that will hang you up.”
“Roger. We’re hooking up belay now. The first forty feet or so look sketchy.”
“Agreed,” Pax said from the other set. “Only you would choose a line that you have to pretty much rappel down.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what the real men do,” I teased.
“Shut the fuck up. And be careful,” he finished on a serious note.
“Roger.”
I strapped my board on as Gabe did the same, threaded the rope through the harness, and said a prayer as I waited for Alex to be ready.
We watched for the small plane that held the camera crew, and as it neared, I nodded to the guys.
Then I went.
My turns were as tight as possible, covering little to no horizontal distance as I made my way down the steepest part of the slope, blocking everything from my mind except the snow beneath me and the rock above me. Every time I jumped into the air, pivoting my board, my heart slammed, knowing I might not find purchase when I hit.
“Nearing the end,” Alex said through the radio as the rope tightened.
I found the small, flattened spot where the steepest angle ended, and hit my radio. “Going off belay.”
Then I unclipped and stood there as Gabe made his way down the same path. My breath came in gulps, my lungs desperate for oxygen that wasn’t there. Sweat ran in a cold river down my spine, my torso feeling like a fucking oven. I knew better than to unzip my coat, but that didn’t mean I didn’t long for a way to cool down that wouldn’t kill me.
Gabe skidded a few too many times for my liking, sending more than his share of slough down the mountainside.
“Come on, come on,” I urged in a whisper, holding my breath when his last skid was close to a fall.
This whole damn ridge was a no-fall zone.
Finally he made it to my level. “Going off belay,” he said over the radio.
The rope snaked past where I could see on its way back up to Alex.
“Good luck, you two. I’ll see you at the bottom,” Alex said through the radio.
“Be careful on your line,” I told him.
Gabe’s chest heaved as he rested. “Fuck. Me. That. Was. Intense.”
“Just getting started,” I said with a smile. “Sun is shining, powder is good, and I’m ready to drop in when you are.”
He nodded. “Just. Give. Me. A minute.”
“No problem.” I hit the button on my radio. “We’re almost ready to drop in. Everything okay down there?”
“We’re good,” Pax answered after a moment. “Just packing up camp so we can get the hell out of here when you’re done.”
“Good plan,” I answered. “We’ll wait for the plane to come back around and then drop in.”
“Roger that.”
“Rach, is that line still looking the best?” I knew it hadn’t changed in the hour it had taken us to drop this far, but I just wanted to hear her voice again.
“You’re still in the clear,” she answered. “Be careful.”
“Always,” I replied. “Ready?” I asked Gabe.
“As I’ll ever be. Fuck, I miss air.”
“Amen, brother.”
Funny thing about altitude—all the training I’d done in the Tetons, the Alps…none of it rivaled this. The only true training for the Himalayas was the Himalayas.
“Dropping in,” I said over the radio.
Gabe and I fist bumped, and I mentally prepared myself for the toughest line of my life.
It didn’t disappoint. Each turn had to be perfect, thought out, and it tortured my lungs in a way I’d never realized possible.
Then I hit the chute, traversing below Gabe, and felt the adrenaline give way to the sweet feeling of victory.
I was doing it. Boarding the Shangri-La spine wall.
A stream of slough hit my board, and I got out of the way, watching above me to see that the river of snow came to an end before going again.
Another stream fell, and I skidded.
“Landon, watch out!” Rachel cried into the radio.
It was already too late.
I felt the roar more than heard it as snow slammed into my legs, buckling my knees. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I yelled, trying to get a grip on the earth that moved as a river beneath me.
Then something hard slammed into me from behind.
Gabe.
I lost all traction, and suddenly I was no longer boarding down the spine—I was carried away by a raging current of snow.
I tumbled headfirst once. Twice. Then I lost count. I flexed, catching the board enough to stop my tumble, but Gabe was long gone.
The snow covered me—devoured me, but our fall didn’t stop, a torrent of ice and snow. I closed my mouth, trying to breathe, but the snow was everywhere as we plummeted.
God. God. God. Don’t let her see me die.
