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.