The Rock On The Mountaintop
Mason Roulston
Copyright 2011 by Mason Roulston
“It ain’t cold outside unless your nose hairs freeze,” the words of the old man echoed in Adian’s head. Scrunching his face he could feel the hairs were frozen, their prickly sharp points made his eyes water when he twitched his nose. “Well, I guess it’s officially cold out then,” the boy thought to himself, “that old timer must know something about the cold, he said he hiked this mountain once in the middle of winter.” But it was nowhere near this cold, nowhere near. The old timer at the base lodge told him it wasn’t safe to go out in this weather and it’s going to storm up on the mountain. Adian didn’t listen; he was too set on climbing the mountain. This stubbornness ran in the family and is the sole cause for many epic stories.
Ever since Adian heard the story of how his great grandfather climbed the mountain alone one winter to prove to his father that he was man enough to go on one of his ambitious exploring expeditions, he wanted to climb the mountain too. He wanted to follow the same treacherous trail of snow and ice and reach that same summit where his great grandfather once stood and gazed out from the top of the world at the valley and town below, quiet and still, tucked in under the blanket of winter.
Adian walked the short distance from the lodge to the trailhead. He didn’t need snowshoes yet because the other hikers that set out before him packed the snow down. He reached the signpost that marked the beginning of the trail that led to the mountain. He knew once he took a step down that trail he couldn’t turn back, no matter how cold or tired he got. He remembered his dad said once, “The words: I give up have never been spoken by a Bradshaw,” he wasn’t about to be the first to say it. Adian took one quick glance back at the lodge, had one split second of doubt then turned and with a deep, ice cold breath, started down the trail towards the mountain.
Empowered by his courage, Adian’s steps quickened. He kept thinking of his great grandfather hiking this same trail, he kept thinking of his family name, he kept thinking he can’t give up. As he plodded on, Adian started to notice the boot tracks were thinning. He could only see two different sets of tracks continuing on up the trail, now turning suddenly and growing steeper. As he started to gain elevation the trees grew shorter and the snow deepened. Walking through the thick snow became harder and harder until it ultimately forcing Adian to stop in order to put on the Birchwood snowshoes he had attached to the outside of his backpack. Taking off his mittens, he could hardly hold the snowshoes leather straps long enough to tighten them. It was as if the cold was hungry and the warmth of Adian’s hands was its only source of food. Quickly, it bit into his exposed hands, turning them numb and useless. At this very moment, doubt again crept into Adian’s mind, causing him to finely notice how cold it really was. This realization made his whole body shiver and made the mountain seem so far away. But much like a buoy in thick fog sounds, assuring the sailor of his closeness to land, Adian could sense the mountain, could see himself triumphant on the summit, a hero gazing out like his great grandfather once had from the top of the world. Hope and purpose warmed his spirit as he finished securing the left heal of his Birchwood snowshoes.
Walking was easier in the snowshoes; he glided on the surface of the snow instead of sinking with every step. The blood began working its way back into his hands now warming in his oversized mittens. He thought again of the old man at the lodge, how he said it was too cold to go out, let alone hike up the mountain. Adian smiled to himself when he pictured the old man’s face after he told him he is going out anyway and he is going to make it to the summit. Now, more than halfway to his goal, feeling warm and confidant, he knew he would make it.
As Adian rounded a switchback something on the trail ahead caught his eye. With the landscape covered in total whiteness, it wasn’t hard to notice the splash of color moving through the trees ahead. As the shape grew closer, Adian could tell it was another hiker coming towards him. Adian, aided by his snowshoes, glided on top of the snow, quickly approaching the unknown hiker. Now the two were separated by less than 100 yards. Adian could tell this hiker was struggling. The first thing he noticed was how deep into the snow the hiker’s steps fell with each toilsome stride. This vision made Adian really appreciate his Birchwood snowshoes that kept him floating on the top crust of snow. Closer still the hiker approached and something about him seemed odd. Looking the stranger up and down, Adian soon realized what it was. The hiker appeared to have only one hand. Adian could see the big blue mitten that covered the hikers left hand but in the space where one should have been on the right, there was nothing. No mitten, no hand.
Soon the two stood face to face on the trail. Adian could now see the unknown hiker was a man in his mid to late 50’s.
“Hey, how ya doin?” Adian said.
“Huh?” the man replied, almost as if he didn’t even know anyone else was there.
“I said, how are you doing, mister?”
The hiker stood shivering, blankly staring at Adian.
“Mister, you look cold.” Adian said, trying to snap the man out of his daze.
“Yeah, cu-cu-cu cold.” The man replied, nodding his head in agreement.
Adian could now see the man was not missing a hand, he was missing a mitten.
“What happened to your mitten?” Adian asked.
“I lost it when I fell in a deep snow bank near the top of the mountain.” The man replied.
Adian noticed the man’s snow pants and jacket sleeves were soaked. He knew the man was in danger of going into hypothermia. He immediately knew what he needed to do.
“We need to get you warmed up, mister.”
“Yeah, I guess I got a little wet up there.” He replied.
Adian took his pack off and balanced it against a tree. He undid the top pouch and reached into the main compartment for his stove and pot. Next, he grabbed his “emergency cold kit.” His great-grandfather once told him a story about how he survived a long cold night in the wilderness thanks to his “emergency cold kit,” so Adian, of course, made one of his own. Only difference is, this time he is not going to use it to save himself, he is going to use it to help this complete stranger because, Adian thought to himself: ‘it’s what any Bradshaw would do.’ He unfolded the legs of his compact camping stove and set it on a flat area of snow he just packed down with his snowshoes. Next he pumped the top of his red fuel bottle 15 times to pressurize the white gas inside. He then hooked it up to the stove like he has practiced many times before just for times like these. He slowly turned the knob on the stove that regulated the flow of the gas. This was the key part of the process. He wanted to get just the right amount of fuel into the little copper disc that sat at the bottom of the stove. If he allowed too much gas to fill the disc, it would take a long time to burn off which would delay the starting of the stove. If there was too little gas in the disc, the bottom of the stove would not get hot enough for the fuel to turn to vapor as it passed through on the way to the top. ‘Perfect’ thought Adian to himself as he turned the dial to stop the flow of gas. He took the lighter out of the “emergency cold kit” and tried to light it. Three times he spun the wheel but all he got was sparks. The lighter was too cold. He unzipped his coat and stuck the lighter under his armpit to warm it up.
“Do you have any water?” Adian asked the hiker.
“Yeah, a little” he said, “about half a bottle full.”
“Save that, just in case.” Replied Adian. “I’ve got an extra one right here.” He reached back into his backpack and unrolled a water bottle from an extra fleece jacket. Smartly, Adian filled the bottle up with hot water at the lodge s
o it would take longer to freeze. Good thing he did, it was just starting to ice up around the edges. He reached back into his jacket and pulled out the lighter and tried it again. One time, nothing. Two times, sparks. On the third try, it lighted. Quickly, he put it near the bottom disc of the stove and it ignited the gas. It burned for about a minute then went out. Next Adian turned the dial on the stove and was pleased to hear a hissing sound. That noise meant the bottom of the stove was hot enough for the fuel to turn to vapor as it passed through it. The stove was ready to light. Adian put the lighter near the top and lighted it. Whoosh, went the stove as it lit, bluish-green flames formed a ring around the top. Adian placed the pot on the stove and poured half of