Peaks and Valleys

When we got back to my grandparents' house, my grandma suggested I lie down for a bit. "You look like you need some rest, Rad. I'll have Tracy help me prepare dinner before Trudy and Marge get here."

I knew this was grandma speak for "Get lost for a few so I can gossip with Tracy." I hugged my grandma and kissed her cheek. "Thank you for everything, Grandma. I love you."

Her eyes were welling up as I turned to Tracy and hugged her. I nuzzled my face into her neck and told her I loved her. "I love you, too, baby," she said as she studied my face. I kissed her then went to my old room. My grandma knew me all too well. I was horizontal no more than a minute before I was out.

Sometime later, I awoke to voices drifting through the vents. I could hear my grandma and my aunt Trudy. Once in a while I could hear Tracy or Marge say something, but with the fan in my room running, I couldn't make any of it out, so I shut the fan off.

"Oh my God," I heard Tracy say. "How could just forget she had him?"

"Oh, he was the light of her life for the first month or so," my grandma said. "All of her friends were constantly oohing and aahing over him. Then she started realizing that he wasn't a fashion accessory and actually demanded her time. Her father and I could see that the novelty and newness was wearing off. To her, he was that Christmas present that was oh so special, only to become another toy in the closet a month later."

"I still remember her asking me to babysit him when you and Jerry told her she had to stay at home with him instead of partying," Aunt Trudy said.

"Once she realized that he was going to be work, she lost interest in that little boy."

"How sad. I know he never talks about her," Tracy added.

"The night we took him from her, the police called us. They had found her in a car with a thirty-six year old roughneck. They had the windows all steamed up and her baby was in his car seat on the roof of the car. If we hadn't intervened, the state was going to take him."

"Tracy," my aunt said. "She took him for a weekend here and there, and he almost always came back with a fresh bruise. I hate speaking ill of my departed niece, but she had no business with a child. I wouldn't expect him to shed a single tear over her."

Two days later as we were getting ready to leave for the airport, my grandfather hugged me and said, "Rad, the best thing that ever happened was your grandmother and I taking you away from that sorry excuse of a mother of yours. You have turned out better than we could have hoped."

He turned away before I could see the tear in his eye, but at that moment, I felt closer to him than I ever had. Over the years, our conversations would have a more loving tone.

* * * * *

Tracy graduated that spring and we were married a week later. We spent that summer living with her parents as I worked for an outfitter and she worked for her father. In August, I found a job with a guide in Boulder and we moved back to Colorado.

By the following spring, I was certified to climb any mountain in the US, except for a few that I needed a guide for. Most of those routes were in Alaska. That summer, I climbed Denali for the first time, and had made plans to return in the fall to climb a more challenging route.

Tracy was none too happy when I informed her of my plan. "Damn it Rad, I hate when you go off like that. It doesn't bother me when it's for work, but you expect me to sit here and wait while you PAY to risk your life."

"Baby, I'd love to take you but..."

"No but's, damn it. I want to learn to climb so that I can be with you. Rad, I love hearing about your experiences. I want to have more than office shit and your tales. I want to climb, too."

That is how I came to find myself back on Denali a year later with Tracy. She was making her first major climb, and I was making my third climb on Denali. She had made many day climbs over the year, but this was her first multiple day climb.

That summer, she made sixteen climbs with me. I found that she wasn't as natural a climber as I was, but learned quickly, and soon she needed little or no guidance. Only on the most technical climbs, did she need tutoring. Once, as she watched me scale a pillar on Crestone she made it known how horny watching me climb made her. After that day, she'd always follow me, and the first opportunity we got, we had sex if we could separate from the group.

We had been on Denali for a week and had made a few practice climbs. The next day we were going to start our two-day push for the summit. After the last of our practice ascents, Tracy and I found ourselves alone and almost naked in our tent when Jim Bridges, our guide for the climb, "knocked" on our tent flap.

"Come in Jim," Tracy said as she pulled her top back on. "Chill out," she said upon seeing my displeasure at being interrupted. "He never stays long."

Jim came in and sat in an unoccupied camp chair. "I just came to tell you guys that my son in law called and told me that my Jessica is in labor. The baby isn't supposed to arrive for another month so I have to fly back to Spokane to be with them."

"Oh shit," I said. "That's not good. Is she doing okay?"

"I'm sure she'll be fine," he replied. I could see he was a bit worried. He went on to tell us that his wife, Maryanne, had already boarded a plane to Washington and would meet him when he got there. I was worried for his daughter and grandchild, but excited when he informed us that our group would be joining another small group lead by Rob Pyke.

"Okay, Rad, who's Rob Pyke, and why are you all a-twitter over him leading this climb?"

"Really? Who's Rob... Tracy, have you read any of the magazines I get?"

She just looked at me as if I was stupid. "Rob Pyke. The climber from New Zealand. He's in just about every magazine I get." She chuckled.

"Is he your man crush?"

"No. He's just the kind of climber I've always wanted to be."

"Yep," she grinned. "He's your man crush."

Since Rob's group came in a day later than ours, we had one more day of waiting before we began our ascent. Tracy and I managed to spend a lot of the day in nature. That night, I finally got to meet Rob.

Jim's second in command, Steve Bishop, introduced us, and Rob and I spent most of the evening talking about climbing. Near the end of the night, one of the guys who always razzed me about being from Texas asked Rob, about something in Australia.

"How would I know, mate?" Rob asked using a heavy Australian accent. "I'm from Aukland mate. Ya know, in New Zealand? Calling a Kiwi an Aussie is a good way to wind up on your arse, ya Sheila."

The guy tensed up, then Rob laughed. "Take it easy, mate. We don't hate Aussies, we just out climb them."

That evening, I told Rob about my plans to open my own tour service. He agreed that it was a good idea and every bit of experience I gained was a benefit to such a business.

Three days later at the airport, Rob approached me. "Rad I've been thinking a lot about your idea and I have a proposal for you. I can provide some of the capital and a boat-load of experience and name recognition. I've been thinking about moving to America for some time, and if you'd be willing, I'd like to partner with you on this outfitter gig."

I told him I'd give it some thought, and on the plane ride home, Tracy and I could talk about little else. Even her first hard climb was dwarfed by the opportunity. Three days later, I called Rob, and with the help of a friend of Tracy's father, Taylor and Pyke Outfitters was born.

Five years later we were still going strong. We managed four major climbs a year and we were leading smaller climbs in Colorado and Wyoming every weekend. With Rob, I had climbed the highest peak on every continent with the exception of Mount Everest.

We had applied every year to get the permits but we had yet to come up with the required funds to make the journey and climb. Last year, two things happened. The first was Franklin, the friend of Tracy's father and our silent business partner, found a source to pay for an Everest trip.

Franklin had been born a paraplegic. He'd loved the mountains since birth and had never got to climb them. To repay him for his generosity, Rob or I wore a camera on our climbs so that he could watch the video later and climb vicariously through us.

Rob, Franklin and I spent three days in the office filling out paperwork for the Nepalese government to get our permits for Everest. Franklin was excited to finally get video of Everest.

Two weeks later, Tracy and I were leading a group on Mount Rainier. As we were setting up our base camp, I saw another group setting up on the other side of the trail-head. The leaders of the next group were Hans and Anders Johansen. They were the most famous climbers to come out of Sweden. I was awe struck and spent hours talking to them.

They rarely climbed in North America, especially lesser peaks than Denali, so I took every opportunity I got that week to talk with them. Tracy didn't mind as long as their camp medic, Inge, wasn't part of the group.

Inge was the classic Swedish milk maid. While her beauty and personality made her highly attractive, I only had eyes for Tracy. That, of course, didn't stop Tracy from conveniently being close by any time Inge was part of a group conversation.

When the week was over, I exchanged contact information with the Johansens and was glad to have them as friends.

A month later, I received a call from Anders inviting me to climb K2 with them. Rob and Tracy were less than thrilled. Tracy was upset that Inge would be the medic on that climb, while Rob had nightmares of his only attempt at K2.

I ended Tracy's admonishment that I was not spending a month with Inge by telling her she could come along. She wasn't qualified to make the climb, but she could stay in camp with Inge during the actual ascent.

Rob, who rarely left the state of Colorado, had a whole different argument against me going. When any client or club member asked about a K2 expedition, he refused to even discuss it. I couldn't lead a climb there, so his refusal made it a moot request. That would change after I climbed with the Johansens.

"You know Messner had a reason for not climbing the Southwest Pillar," Rob said, his eyes full of fear. "He didn't want to commit suicide! Damn it Rad, even the Abruzzi Route makes the Cassin Ridge look like a stroll in the park."

Rob had been a part of an expedition on the Abruzzi route that had lost six climbers in a freak ice storm. Several times, he'd awakened me from a dead sleep screaming out to a guy named Weiss, whom had been lost on that climb. Rob would only talk about that climb when he was drunk.

"Come on, Rob," I said calmly. "Anders has scaled the Pillar twice, and Hans can lead on every K2 route. K2 is these guys' bread and butter. Anders says Everest is easy after the Pillar, and besides, once I have made this climb I can guide for our clients who want K2."

"Damn it, Rad, you can't guide a client up the Capitol steps if you are fucking lying dead at twenty-five-thousand feet in China!"

"I won't go," said Tracy, dealing the hardest blow to my position. "I can't be there when you die, Rad." She looked hard at me then ran out of the room before her tears could fall.

"Rad, I don't care if Anders Johansen has led kindergarteners up The Pillar. You're talking about climbing in late Autumn, when any kind of weather can occur on the flats, let alone at twenty-thousand feet. Dead men don't help a business!"

For the next week, I got the cold shoulder from both Rob and Tracy. Even my old college roommate Gray called to tell me I was stupid to go. "Rad, you don't need to be dead to be Rad Rad!"

"Said the guy who lives to ski the 'Glory Bowl,'" I quipped. "This is a climber's version of back country skiing, bro. Only here, someone has done the route before."

"Low blow, dude. I know you live for this shit, but Tracy and Tammy have been hammering at me to talk sense into you." Gray had ended up married to Tracy's college roommate.

"Let me ask you this; would you let anyone talk you out of skiing fresh Swiss Alpine powder? This is my version of that. Just because Rob has Tracy scared, doesn't mean it's a suicide mission, bro."

I had three days left to commit to the Johansens when Tracy approached me. "Rad, I talked to Gray and Tammy. As scared as I am for you to go up that mountain, I realize I let Rob's fears over-ride my trust in you. I know they have made this climb before, and I am glad you'll be with them."

I was elated to finally have some support on this climb. Truthfully, as the deadline approached I was leaning towards backing out, just to keep the peace at home. I smiled, then realized Tracy wasn't smiling.

"I won't guilt you into staying here, but I won't go with you. I need to be near my folks and friends if something should happen to you."

"Nothing's gonna happen to me, babe," I told her.

"How many bodies are on those mountains that said the very same thing...babe?"

Two days before I flew to China, Tracy and Franklin had Rob and I both sign for life insurance policies to fund the business should anything ever happen to us.

"You two are the faces of this company," he told us. "Tracy and the surviving partners will need this money to keep going should we lose either one of you. God forbid."

"God forbid, indeed," I replied.

* * * * *

My left hand ached from supporting most of my body weight as my right hand sought purchase among the cracks in the craggy surface. The toes of my crampons dug into the ice as my heels hovered out over nothing. Extreme fatigue and a howling icy cold wind battered all of us as we inched our way up the cliff face towards the summit. I glanced to my left to check on Christobal Slater from New York. He was the only other American on the climb, but this was his third climb up K2. I was relying on his experience to fill in the gaps of my own.

Some thirty feet above us Anders was dangling from a line he'd just set. He'd been pulled from his purchase when Yvgeniy Chevryn slipped and lost his hold on the cliff. Chevryn was no rookie, but fatigue had let him make a rookie mistake.

We had begun our final ascent five hours later than we'd wanted because of an early fall ice storm. Not only had the storm pinned us down in a temporary camp, but it had also compromised our route to the top.

A woman in the party might have called us on our "macho bullshit" decision to push for the summit rather than retreat to camp four and resting up, but we all felt if we didn't make the push that day, we might not get another shot. The risk for bad weather was supposed to be higher in the following days, so we all decided to ignore our depleted mental and physical states and push for the top.

The ice and our fatigue made a difficult climb even more treacherous, but it had been going well until Chevryn's toe found loose powdered ice instead of solid rock. Anders had been jerked off his perch where he'd, luckily, just tied off onto a piton some earlier expedition had left. He'd been about to hammer in a fresh piton when disaster struck.

The piton Anders had been about to seat bounced off my right hand on its way to the ground below. It hurt like hell and made me lose my grip. Luckily, instinct took over and my left hand got a better grip, keeping me from adding Slater and myself to the danglers.

Slater seemed to be transfixed by the dangling Russian above him. "Keep moving, Slater!" I yelled, hoping to be heard over the howling winds. He finally got moving and I was able to get a less precarious perch. Above us, Anders and Chevryn righted themselves and continued the ascent. The twelve climbers below us made it through that section with no incident. Trouble struck during our descent.

Hans was leading the party down, while Anders was the anchor. The storm we'd been worried about preventing a later climb hit as we were approaching the cliff that gave us trouble during our ascent.

Slater and Chevryn were between Anders and me. I had just passed the spot where I had almost fallen on the ascent and tied off to get a few moment's rest. Everyone was stopping more often as fatigue set in deeper. No sooner had I tied to the piton than I was almost jerked off my perch. Had I not been in the act of tightening the knot, I would have fallen.

Slater had been on a three-inch wide shelf when Chevryn slipped. He lost a hand hold as he swung over a gap in the shelf. He was tied to Slater and me as Anders was in the act of anchoring us for a rest.

In my nightmare, it always takes longer to happen than it did in real time. As I pulled my anchor line tight, Chevryn fell. He was about five feet higher than Slater, and tried grabbing him to arrest his fall. He pulled Slater off the shelf and they both swung out and back into the cliff face. I heard the sickening "thunk" as Slater's face collided with the solid rock. He was killed instantly. Chevryn hit the wall moments later, shattering both of his legs. His scream was heard by everyone over the howling wind. Above me, Anders screamed as the line burned through his glove as it slipped from his grip.

In reality I didn't hear, but felt Slater's impact, nor did I hear Anders' scream over the howling wind. In the end, it took an extra three hours to get Chevryn down to where the porters could carry him off of the mountain. The last word I got was he might walk within a year. Slater's body, was left behind after we cut him free of the lines. The storm prevented the porters from climbing to find his body, and kept us in camp five for a day with very few provisions.

One morning three weeks after I returned, I awoke screaming. Most of the time I awoke in a sweat, but once in a while I screamed. As my scream subsided, Tracy woke and held me as she had since I returned. "It's just a nightmare, Rob," she said. "You're safe here, babe."

I was almost back to sleep when it struck me that she called me Rob. There would be no more sleep for me that night.

* * * * *

I arrived at the Arvada strip mall that was home to Schneider Investigations. It was between Marie's Bridal Boutique and a closed down Yarn Barn. I went in to find a guy in maintenance worker's coveralls looking through photos on a computer. I immediately wondered why the maintenance guy would be perusing the PI's computer, so I said, "Can you tell Mr. Schneider that Rad Taylor is here?"

"No need," said the guy, as he smiled like the cat who'd just ate the canary. "I'm Herman Schneider."

"Damn, Herman. You look different every time I see you."

The man in front of me laughed. "It helps in my business, Rad."

The first time I had met Herman Schneider, he'd been dress like a typical TV PI. He'd been wearing a rumpled Hawaiian shirt and a dirty straw fedora. He also offered me fifty percent off if I could tell him which five vehicles in the parking lot he used. I guessed and only got the white van correct.

He'd been watching Rob and Tracy for three weeks and had called me in to give me a report. Un fortunately for some reason he was unable to get video surveillance to work, but had many hours of audio recordings.

He played me the most pertinent one, and I was shocked. There was audio of kissing and necking but no intercourse. "Sorry I couldn't get video for you, but the audio seems to tell the tale."

I thanked him and told him to keep tabs on them. He agreed, and said he'd try to get the video feed working. My next stop would be at my attorney's office. He'd have to begin divorce proceedings and dissolve my business dealings with Rob.

I pondered the end of my dream life all the way back to my office. The one woman I had ever loved and my one time hero would be departing my life. I wasn't as surprised that Rob turned out to be a douche bag. Over the past couple of years, he'd gone on fewer climbs than any other guide in our employ.