How long has it been? Too long. Too long have I been on this godforsaken mountain, this hell sent mass of rock and ice, searching for the glory of being the first, the first to reach the top. I curse myself every day for the idiocy that compelled me to undertake this impossible quest. Foolishness! I shake off the ice covering my body and start to walk as I have every day for the last... year? Month? Definitely longer than a month. I have no way of telling since my useless watch died. I bring back the memory of buying the watch, so long ago, back when I had a purpose, a reason. Sure I have a purpose now, but it is as dead and hollow as my frostbitten toes, no longer fuelled by youthful enthusiasm. My feet retain their rhythm – left, right, left, right, left, right. My life. I hold on to the memory of buying the watch, not a great memory as memories go but memories of those days are hard to come by. I roll it around in my head savouring it.
Ah I can hear them, making a racket. It’s those bloody idiots again. I hear them every day now, shouting to each other. Blah, blah, blah. It’s just climbing a mountain for god’s sake! It’s not bloody rocket science! I remember the first time I met them and the leader of their little expedition, the kiwi. That was a while ago, I was just walking along, when I heard them coming up behind me, they were stomping around like flippin’ elephants. And one of them says “Oi Ed! What’s that up there?” there was a pause, and then “Holy shit, I think that’s a guy!” came the voice of Ed, “How on earth did he get up here?!” I knew then that they were climbing, like me and that I had to run. I could tell by the sound of disgust in Ed’s voice that they were after the glory. I ran for the next few days. They wouldn’t get the glory, the glory was mine. What glory? What glory was to be found at the top of this mountain? The glory of being first.
Ed is a New Zealander, I could tell by his voice. I’ve spent time in that slice of the world and I could pick out a kiwi accent from a mile off. I hope he’s a mile off. You never can be sure to what lengths a man will go to find fame and fortune. I keep my distance. I am old now. If I wasn’t old at the bottom of this monstrosity then I am definitely old now. I have grown a beard. It is the same colour as the snow, the sky and the in between. White, the colour of purity, freshness, the blank page. But also the colour of old. Someimes I feel like shaving it off purely for this reason, but warmth is warmth. Theres no denying it anymore anyway, I am old. I can’t even remember what my own face looks like! I bet that Ed’s got a mirror, Ed shaves, Ed probably has a portable bloody five star hotel traveling with him! It wasn’t fair, It was cheating!
I’m thinking like a three year old. I will be first! I am getting closer to the top. I can feel it in my rattling bones. I am loathe to stop walking, but when I find a cave, I pause. The cave is long and wide, a perfect shelter. I bless this find and sit down to make a fire. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a fire. When I set out, I was ridiculously optimistic, bringing three huge packs of matches and a bunch of firewood. Useless. As if the weather would ever permit a fire to be lit. It was all just an extra weight on my back, except in times like these when a cave is found. The crackle of the flames is sweet music to my ears , as the warmth sends me to sleep. I wake up. Something is terribly wrong. I run out side of the cave and see footprints in the snow leading up. I have slept for too long! I stuff some dried fruit into my mouth and race up the snow, my pack cutting into my shoulders. How could I let this happen? I t is a fine day with the sun shining so high above and the great blueness of the sky mocking me with its altitude. The snow looks the same as ever but know I am getting close to the top, I can taste it in the thin air, I can hear the summit calling me. How could I let them get ahead? I hear them before I see them. I slow my pace so that they will not hear me. No room for mistakes. I must get past. I see them climbing around. Cat like, I jump up on to the first rock and then on to the next. Safety is second to speed as I scramble across the terrain and then drop, like a shadow back onto the snow beneath. No signs of life. I am in the lead. I continue to run towards the peak, in my element, back in the snow and ice. Today will be the day.
Ha, ha, ha! I spontaneously begin to laugh in remembrance of this morning when we passed that withering old fool. My friends know what I am thinking and start to laugh with me. He was a fool to think I would stay ahead, I think to myself as I stroke the stubble on my cheeks. I should really shave tomorrow, it has been a few days. We are just passingback aroun an outcropping of rock we have been navigating around when I see something that quickens the flow of my blood and hardens my smile into an ice cold frown. Footprints. He has been here.
I’m almost there. I can feel it. I can see it now! My heart beats to the rhythm of my steps as I climb the final stretch. And I’m there. The ecstasy I feel as I take in the magnificent vistas is indescribable. Above the clouds, all I can see is the blue, the fluffy white and the few other peaks that challenge my mountain in its status. I can hear Ed coming up behind me but I really don’t care. I’m so happy right now that I feel like turning around and giving him a hug. I made it. I was first.
Suddenly I feel it. No. No! NO! I can’t believe that this evil son of a bitch would do this. I can feel the cold hard steel protruding from my chest, can feel the numb death spreading from my heart. He turned to murder. I really don’t know what I expected. Not this. With my last ounce of strength, I spit in his face, but what hits him is mostly blood. As I fall I can see them bringing out the shovels. They will bury me. He gets the glory, the fame, the millions telling his tale. And what do I get? A cold tomb of ice. No one will tell my story. No one will hear about the old man, the one who was first.
But I was first. And I know that will haunt Ed until the day he dies. He has tasted my blood, and he will remember me even if no one else does. I was the man who reached the top, the man killed in cold blood with an ice pick to the heart, the man who was first. The first man at the top of the tallest mountain. Mount Everest.
