Climb The Hill
It was a sunny Sunday morning; the spring breeze was evident all around, the kind that says summer in on the way. My best friend called and offered to take me rock climbing up at Indian Hills. I was thrilled but timid. We both got out of the car and decided to go on against our better judgment. The trail up was steep; about two feet wide surrounded, with scrub brush. On the way up I was thinking both about how bad my legs were getting cut from the brush, and about not slipping on the sandy trail. The half-mile long hike was nothing but a warm up for my best friend and me, who are avid backpackers and trail hikers. We reached the top and headed to the intermediate climbs off to the left. My best friend is an experienced rock climber so this was nothing to him. However it did not look too intermediate to me. Mount Everest came to mind! I walked over and stood underneath the rock formations. I felt so little as a two-story building surrounded by skyscrapers. The incredible height was nothing in comparison to the thought of falling onto the jagged rocks that surrounded the base of the formation.
I approached the wall with anxiety; my right leg was shaking as it had its own mind. As I started to climb I thought to myself, wouldn't this be much safer if I had a rope of some kind. About ten feet off the ground I looked down which was the first mistake I made. At that point I knew that there was no turning back and the only way I was going to get off this rock was to go up to the hill. I pressed myself against the wall so I could relax my arms; I could feel the rough surface of the rock against my face. The perspiration on my hands made the rock seem very slippery. All the sudden I felt a single hand grab my wrist. I grabbed back and with locked wrists I was dangling high above the ground. I started searching for somewhere to place my foot. Luckily I found a crack and crammed my foot into it. I placed my free hand on the wall and...
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