Authors: Richard Blanchard
Snow Blind (26 page)
No resistance now but some relief. My jacket puffs out as I become airborne.
Flashes of blue and white surround me, but it's only black and blue below me. My poles and skis still attached.
I am going to fly over it. No, it's too far. I've got a family. Just be over now, whatever.
My stags wait for the main act to come back on stage.
My body pulses; I am in hot water again. “This Charming Man” is the broken record in my head; its jangly chords open the song with promise but are cut short and re-start. Johnny Marr can't seem to help himself and Morrissey never gets a chance to sing. I shake my head to move the needle on an imaginary record player beyond its scratch. It works but what's that rustling noise? It wasn't there before. When do I have to get out of the bath? It's just a relief to have stopped. I've lost track of time but Chris will be here in a minute. Why can't they stop, what are they all planning for me now downstairs? Robert is such a bastard; someone beyond redemption is planning my stag weekend.
My head is freezing and my right arm numb underneath me. The back of my skull is so cold on the enamel; the heat being poured into my body must exacerbate it. I played with Bepe in the bath the other night, his tongue pushed through his teeth in determination as a pirate failed to fit into a constricted plastic porthole on his boat. He rambles as he descends into his imaginary world. “He's under on top.” “It's not clicking Diddy.” “He chirps to an imaginary friend.” “He into the dump away.”
Why are they all pushing me? It's a sport. Juliet turns up as well, why couldn't she leave me until after the wedding? I can hear her voice now; she must be in the bedroom with Chris. I must do some ByeFly before we go out.
That light on my face is fabulous; heat caresses my cheeks, but bitter cold invades my skull. It snaps at my neck. Why am I marrying? Let me go Sophia, quietly Sophia, you deserve better. Shut up Juliet, I am relaxing. Let me be, I still have time before we go.
My back is cold now; the enamel is now carrying a freezing cold charge under my body. It reaches my calves and grips them. I am an intermediate skier now, which is an achievement.
I lift my left hand to grasp the bath side, but I can't find it. The rustle develops into a scratch like sandpaper on sandpaper. Shut up Juliet, go away Max, and piss off Robert. Their voices call to me in the bathroom. Go away it is my time now. You can't come in here. Enough of your bullying. I have my limits you know. I reach higher for the bath rim.
The water must be freezing now. I have been in too long. The cold is coming for me with my stags. I can't reach the bath side, but it must be there. It's enough now, get up Dan, go and face the music outside.
“Are you okay Dan? Answer me. Answer me.”
I pull my head onto my chest, stopping the piercing cold from my skull and neck bones. Just get out of the water now. Leaning on my left elbow I release my right arm. Get up and out. I reach my right arm again across my body in search of the bath edge.
“Don't move Dan,” Juliet screams from behind me.
“But I have to get out of the bath, it's cold now.” I weakly retort.
“Don't move a muscle, we will get help.”
There is no bath is there Juliet? I am engulfed in blue crystal walls. It is a crevasse I am in not a bath. I am relieved to be at a stop but cannot contemplate how much danger I am in. How am I getting out of this place?
“Don't move Dan, you are on a ledge. You are fine if you stay still. Be patient and we will get help.”
“W
HY DO MEN PUSH TOO FAR?”
Dan's brown woolly hat is abandoned on the scar his body left on the piste. It has lost its purpose; no longer protecting his muddled mind. Semi-erect but lop sided, despite the best efforts of its earpieces. A puff of steam billows out from its residual warmth. If he is alive he needs his hat. What has this fall done to my son?
We have all stopped dead in our tracks but Dan's silently scar the crest in front of us, hiding the truth. There is neither sight nor sound from Dan. We must assume the worst.
“He is such a dick, that lanky twat. Has he learnt nothing from skiing with me?” Robert is unsympathetic of Dan's plight.
“We have learnt that he is as much of a lanky twat on skis as he is on terra firma!” Max joins in and boys chuckle.
“You didn't tell him to stop quick enough though dickhead.” Robert surprisingly lashes out at Max, ready to deflect any potential heat.
“I thought he knew because we had.” Max doesn't take it on the chin, but knows he might be culpable. They talk without any thought that this could be serious.
“He has probably killed himself down a crevasse or something. Did anyone see that
Touching the Void
film? It was brilliant; the guy falls off a mountain, almost kills his buddy, crawls to safety, only waking up because he was lying in shit.” Robert continues.
“He trusted you⦔ Johnny's speech is tightened by worry. A tear of fear for his friend paints a line down his right cheek. He quivers as shock and cold reach into him.
“Let's help him. He could be seriously hurt!” I pull my right ski out of the deep snow, and set it as far down the slope as I can. The other three boys show fear of guilt and recrimination; they all re-appraise their hand in Dan's fall.
The whole trip feels like it has been seeking out an inconsolable level of embarrassment or tragedy. Push and push till the stag falls, it's been there from minute one.
“If he is, we can just get someone to get him out. I bet anyone one hundred notes he is just lying in a heap over there. Any takers?” A small cloud marches past the sun casting this him into shadow. Not even Max dares tempt fate by taking the bet.
“Haven't you ever read the door at the top? Four times you say you have been here. This is off-piste. No patrols, no rescue service. Who the hell is coming to help except us? Let's just find him.”
“Okay. For fuck's sake keep your hair on. Typical woman losing her head while⦔ He tails off. He has resisted the rescue for fear of what he may find. He is hoping for just another ritual ridicule for Dan.
“I'll go first, let's side step down till we can see something. Keep on different paths so if one of us falls they don't take the other one.” Max stands up to Robert's resistance. With his left ski edge at ninety degrees to the slope, he reaches down with his right leg. Once that one is stable he pulls the left parallel and goes on.
“Shall we stay here for now Steve? The others can signal when they find him.” At the peak of his fear Johnny can still look out for his fellow man. Steve looks wrecked; trying so hard not to show how out of his depth he is.
I follow Max, making quicker progress to the right on the line of Dan's fall.
More clouds above; I see them skittle over the ground.
I stop below Dan's hat and pick it up with my left hand. I press it to my cheek. It is frozen already but it doesn't convince me his trail is cold. I want to find him first. I cross a lump in the ground that must have sent him airborne. The sense of risk increases with each step.
What is down this path? Is my friend bloodied and smashed on a rock? Is he intact in a bank of snow? Is he here at all? There aren't many more steps to the crevasse edge. My breath runs shorter. The trail ends with no resolution.
“The bastard is over⦠shit, how did he get there?” Somehow Robert sees him before I do and laughs through it.
I have to traverse backwards to make Dan come into view. He is in real trouble now. He must have flown from this lip and hit the far wall to fall twenty metres onto a ledge. The orange from his jacket burns into the icy blue around him.
“Dan we're here. Dan you okay?” Nothing. His face points into the wall.
“Are you okay Dan? Answer me. Answer me!” I scream at him.
I feel immense relief as he manoeuvres his left leg to place it alongside his right. His movement is slow indicating either his injuries or a perilous hold on the ledge. I wave reservedly to Steve and Johnny; their figures collapse together as one backlit shadow in celebration.
“Don't move Dan!” At least he is here alive.
“Don't move a muscle, we will get help.” He lifts his left arm in acknowledgment as we can only see the top of his head.
I can't see the extent of the ledge he is on. Surely someone with the right equipment can reach him from the far side. I scan for means of a way over. The crevasse narrows in the distance; enough for a jump or a short ladder?
“Hey, lanky you had us worried then!” Robert shouts over. I traverse forwards to get near Max and Robert.
“We can't hear him that far away. Can either of you get a phone signal?” Max ignores the obvious fact that all our phones are redundant at this altitude.
“Has anyone got any food?” Max retrieves a square bar of white Ritter sport chocolate.
“I will throw it over.” Robert wraps his index finger around the edge of the bar and tosses it spinning in a perfect arc over to him. It seems destined to hit his feet but the wind takes it higher; it bounces off the ice wall above him and falls below where there is no redemption, as blueness turns black.
Steve and Johnny are unwisely stepping down to join us. “Stamp your bottom edge into the slope for grip,” I instruct them as they get within earshot.
“Robert, how long will it take to get down from here?” We need to weigh up our options.
“It could be up to another hour down for a girlie like you.” Now we know Dan isn't dead Robert is on the front foot again, challenging so as not to be challenged.
“Can we ski it in poor light?
“Nah, beyond here the middle of the crevasse breaks over steeper terrain. It is all technical turns in short spaces. Once past that it's easy, but you are only at the glacier edge. The train stops at four thirty. After that you would have to walk off the glacier in snow boots into Chamonix on the valley floor below. I don't think we would get much of a night out tonight!” Robert is in denial.
“If we can't reach him what's our best bet?”
“We can't reach him but a rescue team could. We can't risk our lives by staying out here in the open.” Another of those moments where they search each other's faces for non-verbal signs of consensus, but it doesn't last for long.
“So what do we do Robert? Did anyone pick up a map of the Vallée?” I ask.
“I got one to take home,” Johnny offers me the folded ski map from his pocket. The centre spread shows routes dotted down the Vallée from Italy or France.
“We can't have travelled far. Look there is a hut somewhere over to the left of us, it must be above us I think. Climbers use it as an overnight stay. The Refuge De Requin.”
“It's not a very good map but if we go over to the left it seems to be on a rocky outcrop. Let's head for that to get help. If we don't find it we won't be far from the Aiguille in the morning.”
“In the morning! We are not going to survive a night out here.” Robert laughs but talks softly as he realises Dan will probably have to.
“Come on boys, we have a stag to rescue.” I don't wait for opinion, as it is the only course open. I hug Johnny to bolster his faith. He holds me asexually like he is holding a flower.
“We only have thirty to forty minutes of sunlight. You can't read the terrain properly once it's disappeared.” Robert says unhelpfully.
“Let's climb back up to where we were guys. I will tell Dan what we are doing.”
I plant a pole to mark the spot in view of the path. It skids off the ice at first. I try again and get a hold, the handle judders as I release it. I reach down and push light snow into ice at its base until it stands steady. I reach for my phone to reassure myself that the signal is dead. I hopefully open a map App, but it shows no up-to-date terrain. I drop a pin on the map but am unconvinced that it has been recorded.
“Who are you gonna call?” Robert jeers at me, misunderstanding my motives.
“Ghostbusters?” Max can't resist. Forgive them for they know not what they do.
I take a picture in each direction. The ball of orange to my right floods sunlight onto my stricken friend. How I hope you can feel it Dan. The night will take every glimmer of warmth from your body. Chamonix hides at the bottom of my picture. The relative sedateness of stag japes and foolishness are not visible. Out west lie the more snowy peaks of Italy. I turn ninety degrees to make my final click, feeling my waist pinch and my jacket pull. The top of Mont Blanc is still visible.
“Dan, we are going to get help. I've marked our spot. I know exactly where you are. Not sure how quickly we can get back, but if it's not tonight we need you to hang in there till morning.” Nothing.
“Dan do you hear? Maybe the morning.” He lifts an arm and rolls his head; his nose is exposed but nothing more.
“Think strong thoughts Dan. Hold on to Bepe. Hold him in your arms tonight. Ethan wants to meet you tomorrow. I will bring him to your wedding next week if you want. Hold on to them Dan,” I implore him.
“It will all be over soon. Love you Dan. You hang on in there; keep as warm as you can. Can you hear me Dan?” He lifts his arm gingerly again; his right seems trapped.
Time and light slip away. I turn and start the climb behind the others. No one else has offered him any words; they skulk away.
He had better come out of the hole he has dug. He never gave me any reaction last night. What will Ethan be to him? What have we all done here?
Merciless back pain. Oh Mercy Mercy me. That's it, the last one.
I can move now but waves of chill reach my insides. Chill, chill, Big Chill, William Hurt. I am in pain, but the pain will be over soon, over soon, one way or another. Lord have mercy on me. I shiver to generate heat but don't feel it. I slip off a glove and reach inside my jacket pocket. I pull the iPhone right up to my eyes and hit W.