The Crimson Climb

I paused, hot and panting. I wiped my brow with my forearm and stared upward. An unforgiving rock face stared back. I watched a squirrel scale it with ease as I caught my breath. Then, I reluctantly began to set the ropes up, getting ready to climb the next section. "Are you ready?" I asked Walt. My friend's lanky form was spread out over the rocks, tired and sweaty. He'd never been much for physical activity, but he came along anyway. He was doing well, considering his lack of climbing experience and the fact that this was one of the hardest trails that Mount Clarence had to offer. I'd climbed most of the easier ones before, so I wasn't as much of a rookie as Walt was, but even I had only started just after school got out. Now we were in the dead of summer. Rock climbing only made the heat worse, but the excitement and the view from the top was always worth it. I had a whole album in my phone's camera devoted to pictures taken on Mount Clarence's summit.
"Don't worry about me, man," Walt said. "I'll be fine." He gave me a thumbs-up, a signal we had exchanged often throughout the whole year or so we had been friends. This was only the second time he'd accompanied me climbing. The first time, I chose the Cobalt Climb, a true beginner's course, so he wouldn't have trouble keeping up. This time, though, I didn't hold much of anything back. I couldn't really afford to, not with the big excursion with the cool kids coming up in little more than a week.
Come to think about it, that excursion was most of the reason I had started climbing. One of the cool kids I knew pretty well pulled a few strings and got me invited. I didn't want to look like a total newbie in front of them, so I took up climbing. They were going to scale the Clementine Climb, the hardest trail on Mount Clarence besides the famous Crimson Climb. This was understandable; only the best and bravest even attempted the Crimson Climb. Legend had it that it got its name from all the blood allegedly shed on the trail. It had such a reputation that some locals even called it the Crippling Climb. No doubt the cool kids would try it sometime if they ever mustered up the courage. Maybe they'd even give it a shot before they went off to college. Attempting the so-called Crippling Climb was a sort of coming-of-age ritual for many of the town's college-age kids before they went off to college in the fall. By "many" I mean about two-thirds of the graduating class. (The nerds tend to sit this one out.) There's a good bet that at least one of them in any given year had never touched a climbing rope in their life but was pressured into doing it by friends and classmates. The local news usually makes a fuss about these rookies because they're the ones that get injured most often. The cool kids and I are only going into tenth grade, so there won't be an article about us in the paper, but I still don't want to be one of those rookies. So I took up practicing on the easier climbs, making my mistakes earlier in the summer so I didn't make them in front of the cool kids. If my climb with them goes well, who knows? I might even get invited to join them!
And after that... Well, I might keep climbing, and not just to impress others, but because I've actually started to enjoy it. Maybe Walt will feel the same way by the time this all blows over, and he'll keep coming with me. He's slower than I am, but I don't really mind having him around. Despite having little natural talent or experience, he's a good sport about it. Plus, he always brings chewing gum. He's addicted to the stuff. Walt goes through gum fast, especially in summer. I've seen him go through a whole pack in a day before. In fact, before we began our climb today, he offered me a piece. The pack was already more than half empty. "I bought it yesterday," he'd explained. How he does it, I don't quite know. At least I've got someone to keep me company out here.
Finally, I've finished setting up the rope that Walt and I will be using. On most of Mount Clarence's climbs, you can free climb or use ropes and belays. Walt and I usually go for the latter. This way, if one of us slips, we're still tied to each other and that will help break our fall. It's already happened to Walt once today. So far we've climbed most of the trail we're on, the Cream Climb (in case you haven't noticed by now, the folks who named these climbing paths really love the letter C) and this next section will take us to the top. Then we'll make our way down from there. Unlike the Cobalt Climb, which has a belay system so you can kind of bounce your way down like in an indoor rock gym, we'll have to descend pretty much the way we came. Out of the five climbing trails and three hiking trails Mount Clarence has to offer, the Cream Climb is on the shorter side, but it's the third hardest of the trails. Obviously, the Crimson and Clementine Climbs are the two more difficult ones. On the easier side is the Cerulean Climb, as well as the short and relatively easy Cobalt Climb. The hiking trails aren't as difficult because they don't require scaling near-vertical rock faces, but to me they're quite tedious. Climbing is much more exciting and demanding, which is part of why I like it. It also feels so much more free, because you aren't surrounded by trees like you are when hiking. It's just rock on one side and the horizon on the other, and it's as if you're flying in a way. I'm sure that sounds super poetic or something, but it's just me trying to put my feelings into words. Although I'm mostly sure that's pretty much what poetry is.
Time to gather our wits and move on. "Alright," I tell Walt. "Next stop, Cream Summit. Let's do this!"
Walt smiles a small, relieved smile and begins to move from his sitting position on the rocks. Slowly but surely, we begin to head upwards. Despite the difficulty of the climb, I can find footholds relatively easily. I'm no genius, but I'm not terrible either, so it's not that part that I'm worried about for next week. It's the speed that I'm going that frustrates me more.
I can't help but think that I'm a very slow climber. Maybe it's just me being pessimistic, but other climbers pass me a lot. Once, it was even a dad with two little kids, looking eight to ten years old each, on the Cerulean Climb. The cool kids will probably leave me in the dust next week. Even now I'm not much faster than Walt, which is nice for us because we're pretty much tied together, but it still worries me. Right now the worry is nagging at me harder than ever before, since the excursion is closer than ever before. I try to push it to the back of my mind, telling myself that it doesn't really matter, at least not now. Not today. As hard as I try, it still remains in a corner of my mind, eating away at my confidence. Slowly but steadily, despite the looming prospect of eternal slowness, Walt and I climb higher. I wonder what he's thinking right now. Does he think I'm slow? Or fast? Does he think he's fast? Does he even care? Is he liking this, or just being a good friend and letting me drag him here? Whatever he's thinking, he doesn't show it as he climbs on. All I can really tell is that he's struggling somewhat to keep up with me during the last minutes of the climb. His chest heaves as he tries to pull himself over the side of the final rock face. Even then, he still needs my hand. We stand together on the ledge near the summit. At last, we have reached the end of the Cream Climb.