Holt pointed to the equipment at his feet. “Today, we’re going to work through rope rescues. We’ll start with some simple climbing exercises from the ground and then head up to the top and do some belay work with backboards and dummies.”
That phantom energy swept through the group. The hit of adrenaline that fueled us all. Working with a SAR team was a jolt every single time. It was exhausting and draining at times, but there were always moments when the reality of what we were doing hit. Then, there was nothing like it.
“Okay,” Holt began. “Pair up and get in your climbing gear.”
“What do you say?” Caden asked. “Partners?”
“Just like the old days.”
We both pulled on harnesses, checking the buckles and carabiners. Caden grabbed us a rope. “You want first or second climb?”
I grinned at him. “I’ll go first. Show you how it’s done.”
“You mean show me what to avoid?” he chided.
Holt’s gaze narrowed on us both. “No ridiculous stunts on the rockface. I know how you two are.”
I gave him my best innocent look. “Who, me?”
Holt snorted. “Like the time you and Caden made your own parachutes and jumped out of the tree next to the house? You’re lucky you didn’t break your necks.”
I sent him an affronted look. “We were teaching ourselves aerodynamics.”
Caden choked on a laugh.
“And how’d that work out for you?”
I’d been in a cast and sling for six weeks. “Whatever.”
“Just remember that itchy-as-hell cast before you do something stupid,” Holt said as he walked away.
“Never wants me to have any fun,” I muttered.
“He’s probably still pissed about the time we got the four-wheeler stuck and blamed him for it,” Caden said.
I winced. “Whoops.”
Caden chuckled and clapped me on the back. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
I took the rope and headed over to a good climbing spot. I flaked the rope in a figure-eight pattern so it was ready for use, letting my fingers skim over the surface, feeling for any snags or signs of weakness. Handing the end to Caden, I watched as he ran it through his carabiner and then attached it to mine.
I walked up to the rock, mentally planning my climb. There were already metal rungs from past climbers to attach the rope to as I went. I rose on tiptoe, my fingers itching for the high that came from conquering the rock beneath me. “On belay?”
“Belay on,” Caden answered.
I grabbed for that first easy handhold and used my feet to propel myself upward. You always wanted your legs to do the greatest amount of work because they tired less quickly than your arms. But, sometimes, I got impatient and went for speed over logic.
The search for hand and footholds was half the fun. Like a barely visible puzzle you had to complete while running a marathon. It didn’t take me long to get into the rhythm. The higher I climbed, the more challenging it got.
I connected my rope to each metal rung and carabiner I passed. Voices drifted up from below me, and I picked up my speed. It might’ve been juvenile, but I got a charge out of reaching the top of a cliff first.
My muscles burned as I reached those last few feet. My shoe dug into the rock crevice, and I propelled myself upward. My hand flashed out, slapping the top of the cliff.
“Show-off,” Caden called from below.
“You could learn a few tricks from me,” I shot back.
I leaned back, letting the rope take my weight. There was something otherworldly about hanging off the side of the mountain, trusting that your climbing partner had your back and just taking in the sky. It was blue and without a cloud in sight today.
