The frigid mountain gale whistled through my ears and stung at my cheeks. My pick dug into ice veiled rock, I pulled myself to a narrow ledge to stand and catch my breath in the thin air. I’d reached an elevation of over 28,000 feet, Everest climbers have acrimoniously named this ‘the death zone’ as there isn’t enough oxygen for a human to survive more than 48 hours in the conditions. Once I had recuperated I twisted around and yet again dove my pick into the cliff. I attempted to heave myself up, but the ice surrounding the pick crumbled under my weight and I began to plummet down the mountainside. I ferociously clawed at the rock without success. In a final desperate struggle, I secured a rope around a mountain axe and flung it at the ridge …show more content…
You, steer the boat and keep it still. The rest of you, be ready to reel me back in,” I had to yell over the deafening noise of the waves clashing against the boat. I climbed up and over the railing and stared down at the frigid water beneath me. I gulped in the salty ocean air and dove into the dark sea. Upon entering the water I felt an immediate cold sting all over. I kept swimming with everything I had, the ocean pulled against me as I tore through it. It seemed like ages before I made it to my crew member, I grabbed under his arms and got a secure grip. The rest of the crew began to pull us in and back onto the boat. I was greeted by the exhausted smiles of my crew. I placed the box of Cap’n Crunch cereal back on the shelf. The fluorescent lights of the grocery store seemed blinding and unfamiliar. I rolled my shopping cart by isles of travel gear, a colourful wall of pamphlets, books, suitcases and every shape and size of sunglasses. I thought to myself, it’s a good thing I already bought all this years ago. The prices were a lot cheaper than they are now. When I finally travel they might raise even more. The cart’s wheels squeaked as I turned the corner to check out. A pimple faced teen scanned each of my groceries and placed them in a …show more content…
I paid for everything and left. I leaned up against the brick wall outside the store and stared up at the dull, cloudy sky. I reached into my grocery bag and retrieved the box of cigarettes, I took one out and lit it. I puffed in the smoke and let it out, I watched it fade and blend into the sky. The executioner walked up to me. A black mask concealed his face yet I could somehow tell what expression he held. It was cold and apathetic. I tried to remain stoic, I figured showing fear would make it worse. The executioner nodded to notify me to bow my head. I nodded back, I reached into my pocket and clutched my travel journal. It remained empty, my one regret. I took a deep breath and felt the air travel down my throat into my lungs for the last time. I took a knee and closed my eyes tightly. Without sight the rest of my senses seemed heightened. I heard a shing, the executioner drew his sword, I felt the cold air send shivers down my spine as it nipped at my cheeks. The executioner brought his sword down towards me, and I felt
Everest is an unbelievable mountain that has taken the lives of a number of the greatest climbers in history. It was my job to ensure that clients make it up that treacherous mountain safely. My name is Rob Hall. I was the main guide and cofounder of a climbing company called Adventure Consultants. My friend, Gary Ball, and I used to be professional climbers. Together we succeeded in climbing to the highest summit on each of the seven continents in seven months. This was our greatest achievement. After this, we decided to start our own company guiding clients up large mountains. In May 1992, we successfully led six clients to the summit of Everest. Unfortunately, Gary died of cerebral edema in October 1993 during an attempt on the world’s sixth-tallest mountain. He died in my arms and the next day I buried him in a crevasse. Despite the pain that his death had caused me, I continued guiding for our company and eventually led thirty-nine climbers to the summit of Everest.
Climbing makes for a difficult expedition, you need to give up the wrappers when you was ascending. You need to give up the heavy things, you need to give up your wrappers, and you need to give yourselves. Sometimes we need to give up our lives to climb the mount Everest. According to snow storm, the energy, the oxygen and the people who desired prove themselves the spring’s 96s expedition to mountain Everest was destined to be the most tragic.
Have you ever wanted to prove to everyone that you are a hard worker that is willing to give up everything to go on an adventure? If this is you than Everest is the perfect place for you. A great deal of Everest’s dangers are expressed in his book which should either inspire you to try this journey or sway you away from the treacherous mountain. In the story, “ Into Thin Air,” by Jon Krakauer a true story is told of a dangerous voyage up and down Everest. The climb up was arduous and long according to Jon, but the climbers sacrificed everything to get to the top, which most of the climbers achieved. However, emotions shifted when a storm swooped in and killed many of the climbers that were stuck on the summit, around 12-19 in total. The devices
Arising lethargic and groggy after their sleepless night at camp six, Mark Whetu and Mike Rheinberger were slow to dress, melt ice, and get out of the tent at three o’clock in the morning. They should have left at one at the latest but the wind was too gusty. Unfortunately, by the time they loaded their backpacks, strapped on their crampons and were ready to leave, it was three thirty. Mark, an experienced climber knew they wouldn’t summit before one p.m. but he had only been hired as a guide for Rheinberger, who, after seven tries at Mount Everest had still not been able to summit. For Rheinberger, descent was totally unacceptable. Too much labour, too many sleepless nights, and too many dreams had been invested to not summit. He couldn’t come back for another try next weekend. To go down now, would have raised one big question: what might have been?
Located in the popular Yosemite National Park, Yosemite Falls is the tallest waterfall in California. Every year, mother nature’s breathtaking beauty attracts millions of people from around the world. People hike for three long and fatiguing hours in anticipation of witnessing forceful water rushing down the steep mountain from 2,425 feet above. Last summer, my family and I backpacked through the Yosemite Falls Trail and I came to learn what a truly exhausting experience it is.
As I inched my way toward the cliff, my legs were shaking uncontrollably. I could feel the coldness of the rock beneath my feet when my toes curled around the edge in one last futile attempt at survival. My heart was racing like a trapped bird, desperate to escape. Gazing down the sheer drop, I nearly fainted; my entire life flashed before my eyes. I could hear stones breaking free and fiercely tumbling down the hillside, plummeting into the dark abyss of the forbidding black water. The trees began to rapidly close in around me in a suffocating clench, and the piercing screams from my friends did little to ease the pain. The cool breeze felt like needles upon my bare skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The threatening mountains surrounding me seemed to grow more sinister with each passing moment, I felt myself fighting for air. The hot summer sun began to blacken while misty clouds loomed overhead. Trembling with anxiety, I shut my eyes, murmuring one last pathetic prayer. I gathered my last breath, hoping it would last a lifetime, took a step back and plun...
The night was surprisingly quiet. The crickets sang a hushed tune that rode along the sweet gusts of wind. The sky was no longer navy blue however, but a deep violet transforming into a gradient lavender and orange. The night was shedding its skin to become the beginnings of a new day. But along with the dawn came the need to hide.
Crying, I recall when I said to myself, “I will die!” I couldn’t think of anything else. I was locked in a small and dark room for two consecutive days, I was starving, and there was no one there to help me. Simply, I was frightened and worried about how I am going to get out of this room alive, although there was a war going around the whole city.
After traveling for three days, the cats had finally reached the foot of Mist Mountain, the mountain range that divided the kingdoms of felines and the kingdom of primates. The mountain was large and covered in the rainforest that seemed to reach for the sky as it's towering trees had mist swirling around them, coloring the sky grey. Raindrops fell lightly from the sky and the canopy, cold piercing through the Chosen Three's pelts. Audacity, surprisingly, was the least effected. "I've braved worse cold than this."
A blast of adrenaline charges throughout my body as I experience the initial drop. My body's weight shifts mechanically, cutting the snow in a practiced rhythm. The trail curves abruptly and I advance toward a shaded region of the mountain. Suddenly, my legs chatter violently, scraping against the concealed ice patches that pepper the trail. After overcompensating from a nearly disastrous slip, balance fails and my knees buckle helplessly. In a storm of powder snow and ski equipment, body parts collide with nature. My left hand plows forcefully into ice, cracking painfully at the wrist. For an eternity of 30 seconds, my body somersaults downward, moguls of ice toy with my head and further agonize my broken wrist. Ultimately veering into underbrush and pine trees, my cheeks burn, my broken wrist surging with pain. Standing up confused, I attempt climbing the mountain but lose another 20 feet to the force of gravity.
The paddle back was much more strenuous than the paddle there, as this. time we had to fight against the current. But something, I don't know. what, probably adrenaline, kept us moving on. It felt as though my arms were going to fall off, but all the time, I kept thinking to myself.
I must say, I had an uneasy feeling when we finally arrived at the end of the pier. From the shore the pier seemed short, but in reality the wooden planks carried us out into the ocean approximately the length of a football field. To make matters worse, when I looked down over the shaky, wooden, guardrail I realized if I fell in, I would be gone forever. Oh well, I was here to fish and that is just what I was going to do. After all, I knew how to fish; I have caught plenty of fish in my
After a quick stop by my place of work on Saturday afternoon, I ventured across the street to the local Albertson’s grocery store. This excursion was an oddity to say the least as I couldn’t recall a time before high school when I was ever in a grocery store before dark. This, I figured, made a very familiar environment seem very alien to my senses. The purpose this was, and I knew I was correct in my decision-making as I found it difficult to locate a parking space that was not already occupied near the store.
The smoke was choking me. I could see a faint outline of a face across the deck. It was Tom, my lifelong friend and companion. He was completely surrounded by the bright flames."Tom are you OK!!""Yeah, but the fire has me surrounded!""Tom jump overboard, hurry!""But....but....""Do it quick, hurry!"I hit the surprisingly cold water with a crash.
“Thanks for shopping at- ” I hear briefly before I stick my hand up and walk out the door, the clicking and clacking of my Gucci shoes against the pavement. The lights that sit above the parking lot gleam into my face, like they all want to see me. I keep walking, passing a little planter full of light pink hexagons with green lines falling underneath them and then going into the ground.