Weekend Write-In Story Collection

Why Did You Climb?

In 500 words, tell a story in which the show simply must go on. Written for the Weekend Write-In prompt "Show", 22-24 January 2016

David plays detective with Grandpa.

Grandpa's Lap

David sat in his grandfather's lap and looked up from his book. "You've never told me why you climbed."

"That's probably since I've never answered that question myself." He ruffled David's blonde curls.

"So let's figure it out, then. I'm reading a detective story." He held up a Hardy Boys book. "Who, where, when, what, why. We know the who is you, answer the rest and we'll know the why. Elementary, Grandpa."

"That's Sherlock Holmes... Have you read it?"

"Started... Hardy Boys is easier." He looked up from the book. "So tell me the when, where, what."

"I started climbing in 1964, soon after I had seen my first mountains."

"Okay, so we know when. What about the where and the what?"

"When I arrived in Comox on Vancouver Island to serve with Search and Rescue. My first view was of the peaks around Comox Glacier. An amazing vista that somehow compelled me to go stand on top... Up there at the end of the view."

"Good... We now know who, when, where and what." David smiled. "See this is easy. Now we'll find the why... So why did you climb?"

"I've never really asked myself. I was simply drawn to the mountains the first time I saw them. I had to go stand on one. I don't know why. Maybe it was to get a broader view; more than that, though. The view of the mountains from below is as exciting as the view you have up on top of them."

"Think harder, Grandpa. What more than the view?"

"Let me ramble a bit... I had a student one summer, part of a group of young naval officers. I was conducting leadership training using mountaineering and wilderness survival as teaching vehicles. On the first day of a week-long exercise, we had paused at the crest of the ridge, up out from the treeline and into the alpine. We sat on the heather slope by a tarn, quenching our thirsts, resting and looking at the view. Most were in awe, had never been up into the mountains before. They talked excitedly about the spectacular view. Then one of them commented with a puzzled look on her face: I can't see much view, the mountains are all in the way of it. We didn't understand what she was saying until she added: Out in the wheat fields there's nothing in the way of the view."

"That's strange."

"View — point of view is so different in each of us. Some see things invisible to others while looking at the same scene. Our minds are our eyes as they interpret images. Each mind has a different interpretation, though most are nearly identical. Some, a few, like that young officer from the flatness of Saskatchewan, see some things very differently."

"So if it wasn't the view... Then why'd you climb?"

"I don't really know. Maybe compelled to be part of the scene, part of the show. Being... Doing, rather than simply looking."