Snowfall | By: Raymond Arnzen

Snowfall

Raymond Arnzen

Mountain wind slashed cold gashes into my skin. The sky darkened with the quickly brewing storm. No sound was audible in the mountainous terrain that surrounded me, not even sight could penetrate the snow that whipped and lashed the frozen stone. The other climbers had refused to continue to climb to this height of the mountains. At this moment, I envied them, I had been foolish to climb when clouds had lay on the horizon, I now was paying for it.

Cold light filtered through the walls of the tent, all of the other group members had already awoken. I pushed through the flap and saw the others talking quietly among themselves, fully ready for the mountain climb. Anxiety surged through me, this was my least favorite part of the trip, so much could go wrong, the timing was key, leave too early, have the group get tired at noon and have to sit in the snow and ice for hours, leave too late, you’ll have to walk in the dark. After I had put on all of my suffocating gear, I hailed my group over and we began the stone cold climb up the oversized rock. The stones around us were cold and unwelcoming, only broken by the malevolent snow, that seemed to scoff at our attempts to climb the bleak, gray rock.

The higher we went the lighter the air, pulling the oxygen from our lungs and filling them with emptiness, lowering our mental and physical stamina, taking more and more breaks the higher we went, even though we all knew that we were wasting precious daylight doing so, we had no clue what the real mountain would be like, training had helped, we all knew for certain, but none of us could or did prepare for the tortures of the mountain. The sun slowly sunk under the horizon, and with the vanishing of light, came the coming of the cold, the freezing, murderous cold that had claimed so many people who had done the same as us before. The wind was still being kind, for we still had far to go, and the mountain wanted to save it for the final, fatal, blow.

Sunlight slowly lit the mountains surface, all climbers had become weary from the first day. Everyone had darkened or faraway looks painted on there face. The sky was a pure light blue color, a good sign for us, though we all felt as though it would not last long, as we climbed some of us refused to continue, though were coaxed into continuing, though they followed reluctantly. Breaks were coming faster and faster as the cruel air strangled the energy from us, we were all starved, not of food, but of hope, we were too far to turn back, eerie gray clouds lay on the horizon, coming in from the north , they carried a payload of ice and snow, ready to fire when signaled. Our only choice was to hope there was a cave that could shelter us until the storm passed, one that would not leave any of us alive.

By noon all of us were gasping for the precious oxygen, swiping it away from one another, stealing what we need to survive, all without hesitation. The wind was starting to pick up, whipping shards of ice into our eyes whenever it saw the chance, many of us tried to cover our eyes, or squint but they proved ineffective or counteractive. Voices were silenced if not by fear of oxygen usage, then the fear of swallowing the biting air. Time was void in the mountains, only two times were accounted for, sunrise, and sunset, for we had lost any connection with civilization and its luxuries.

As we continued we found nooks, big enough for two or three people, we split into a few groups and dispersed into the nooks for the night, which were far, far away. As the sun set the wind grew louder and howled through the twilight sky, slashing and killing all that it could reach, screaming would be futile when in the presence of the wind, no one would hear your pleas, you would die alone, killed by wind and ice spearing you with frozen shards, any blood that might be spilled froze freezing you to death within minutes of being hunted by it, the king of the mountain. When we woke we went over to the other nook only to find three bodies, frozen nearly solid by the vicious killer, the mountain was not our home, and we were not invited, we had no place among the steep hills and deep valleys of the mountain.

We continued to struggle up the mountain, our heads hung low, faces dark. We had mentally given up, all hope of survival slowly whittled away by the stinging cold. Our burdenous coats stood no chance against the frozen air. The sky reflected our sour mood, taunting our minds and bodies. Food was the least of our worries, even though the taste of food was unrecallable. Our tools had been less fortunate than us, failing to keep up with the constant use and cold of the mountain. Climbing now had become nearly impossible, limiting our paths upwards, thus slowing our progress. All limbs were now numb, as if accepting their fate and slipping away from us, losing their functionality. By sun set we had climbed up the mountain a mere few meters, and only one nook lay in the wall. We could only find room for one, but when we entered we found something that would allow the others to survive the night.

           Darkness filled my vision, the only thing hinting at my survival was the frigid air hissing at us with hatred. The hole in the corner of the nook had saved us, with one of the axe heads we had kept for hope in might become useful, and that it did, we broke open a larger cavern, just big enough for all of us. Wind had tortured our sleep once we had been settled, and it did still, hours later, it still persisted, the storm would blow us off the mountain if we tried to walk out of the nook. I rose my head, the nook was snowless at far most area, but the entrance was practically covered in snow, the snow that would have killed us, might have saved us. It had blocked the ice from penetrating, even though ice fell now, the early snow had hardened because of the cold, and now acted as a wall. I layed my head back down we could not travel in this perilous weather, we would have to wait it out.