The Mountaineering Journal of a Dick

Thomas walked into the sup­ply shack at the base­camp. There were chairs, tables and a bar, com­plete with surly bar­tender. It was sparse, but it echoed the atmo­sphere of com­pan­ion­ship and camaraderie that the entire camp possessed.

Pinned to one of the walls was a water-damaged journal, which Thomas at first mis­took for a visitor’s book. He noticed the post-its stuck to the wall around it as he approached.

What a dick’ one read.

He snored really loudly’ another.

Ugly + bad hair. Upset my dog’ a third.

Thomas began flick­ing through the journal…

My Moun­tain­eer­ing Journal

Day One @ 1340

All is going well so far. I left base­camp at the crack of dawn and have had good weather all morn­ing. I’ve stopped to eat and begin record­ing my journal. I’ll make a more detailed entry this evening.

Day One @ 1410

Dis­aster struck. I have become pinned to the ground beneath an icy boulder. I think my leg is broken and my radio is com­pletely unre­spons­ive. Luck­ily, I’m not very far up the trail and no doubt another group will soon be passing by.

Day One @ 2150

Nobody else has come up the trail. I have tried yelling for help, but there must be nobody within ear shot. I have since stopped yelling, as the ground beneath me began to give way.

Day Two @ 0820

I awoke to a ter­rible trem­bling and fell another twenty feet or so. I quickly scrambled up and tried to move away from the ava­lanche, but the boulder fol­lowed me down and has now broken my other leg. I am in a lot of pain. For­tu­nately, my pack has landed within my grasp, so I have plenty of food and water, as well as my journal. There was a camp here which looks like it was made yes­ter­day even­ing. If that was the case, I can’t under­stand why my fel­low moun­tain­eers wouldn’t have respon­ded to my shouting.

Day Two @ 1515

I have man­aged to repair my radio. It turned out the bat­ter­ies had just been knocked loose.

Day Two @ 1525

Nobody is answer­ing the radio. Must still be faulty.

Day Two @ 1755

I found my flares. I fired one but it bounced off a rock and landed next to me again. I couldn’t see for two hours afterwards.

Day Three @ 1030

I have been trapped on the moun­tain for almost forty-eight hours. Nobody has found me and none of my emer­gency equip­ment is work­ing. I have decided what has to be done and am pre­par­ing to ampu­tate my leg.

Day Three @ 1200

I can’t do it. I can’t cut it off. I star­ted but the pain was too much. I’d rather die up here.

Day Three @ 1400

Good news with the leg. I man­aged to roll the boulder a bit fur­ther down it and it turns out it’s mostly severed any­way. Hacked the rest off and now just have to deal with the blood loss. Think the boulder was the only thing keep­ing in the red stuff.

Day Three @ 1920

Caut­er­ised the wound with my lighter. Passing out now.

Day Four @ 0650

With my legs free, I’ve man­aged to drag myself over to the edge of the ledge I’ve found myself on. Can’t go any fur­ther, so it seems the leg thing might have been unne­ces­sary. I can see the base­camp radio operator’s table through my bin­ocu­lars from here. There’s nobody man­ning it though, which I think must be against some safety codes.

Day Four @ 0840

Some­body woke up and headed towards the radio. I star­ted trans­mit­ting again and they stopped as they got near it. I could tell they’d heard me and star­ted giv­ing them my name and telling them what happened, but they just walked off.

Day Four @ 0850

The per­son brought a whole crowd to the radio. I star­ted telling them what happened again. They star­ted talk­ing among them­selves but not broad­cast­ing. I repeated my calls for help and one stepped for­ward and switched the radio off. I think the oth­ers laughed.

Day Five @ 1120

Some­body has spot­ted me up on the cliff! Thank God! Sweet, sweet res­cue will be turn­ing up shortly!

Day Five @ 1340

They’re tak­ing their time get­ting up here.

Day Five @ 1930

Night has fallen. I can see people dan­cing and play­ing music down at basecamp.

Day Six @ 0240

They only just went to bed.

Day Six @ 2000

I’ve just woken up on my fifth morn­ing here and there seem to be a group of people sat at base­camp star­ing up at me. They’ve set up some chairs and are passing a ther­mos around. I wave down to them and they wave back.

Day Six @ 1200

There’s quite a few of them down there now. They’ve star­ted up a bar­be­cue. Where did they even get that?

Day Six @ 1700

Some of them star­ted writ­ing me mes­sages in the snow. ‘Hey, John,’ one of them reads, ‘you suck!’ Another is just a big face with crosses for eyes and my name under it.

Day Seven @ 1140

I’ve been drift­ing off all morn­ing. I’m find­ing it hard to keep my eyes open.

Day Seven @ 1245

The draw­ings are becom­ing more elab­or­ate. Some­body has cre­ated an ice sculp­ture of me lying on a ledge with only one leg. It’s pretty good. Another one of the draw­ings shows a bird fly­ing off with my leg. I think it must be based on true events as my leg isn’t under the boulder anymore.

Day Seven @ 1450

Some­body called back on my radio. I think they sang me a song. It soun­ded cheery, at least. They also had a cheer for each day I’d been up on the moun­tain. We’re up to seven now.

Day Seven @ 1900

Every­body is star­ing up at me again.

End of Entries

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3 thoughts on “The Mountaineering Journal of a Dick

  1. Pingback: I Actually Just Hate Mountaineers | Fingerwords

    • Thanks very much. Ego-boosting com­ments like this are exactly why I pay the £5/month renewal fee on this thing.