Mitch woke at first light,smiled to see the sky above him and the Valley below. There weren’t many people who’d spent the night on Big Sandy.
Beside him, Megs stirred, opened her eyes, kissed him. “Good morning.”
They ate a quick breakfast, slamming down as much water and as many calories as they could, talking about what stood between them and the summit. Megs would lead Pitch 18, and they would alternate to the top.
“I think you should take the last pitch. You should be the first one to top out—provided we make it. This was your idea.”
“Are you sure? It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’m sure.”
They packed up, sorted out their protection, and left Big Sandy behind.
The next three pitches were tougher than they’d imagined, both of them struggling for holds on the granite. After that, they came to a small ledge.
“Thank God.” Megs worked her way along it to a tight chimney that was anything but secure. She stopped, caught her breath. “I just need to think this through.”
Once she found her footing, she battled her way up it.
It was like watching an artist at work. Her motions were efficient and graceful, her breath catching every so often.
Then it was Mitch’s turn.
He could only be impressed as he grunted his way up. “This… isn’t… my… favorite… part… of this … climb.”
He led the next pitch over an exposed and insecure slab, switching to a belay stance so that Megs could lead. “Finish this.”
As she neared the top, Mitch could hear the voices of tourists on the summit.
“Oh, my God! There’s a woman climbing up here! Look!”
“How is she doing that?”
“That makes me dizzy!”
Then came Gridwall’s voice. “Move back, everyone. Give them room! Get away from the edge! Come on, folks!”
Megs topped out to applause, then belayed Mitch. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, he finished the pitch, dragging their haul bag up behind him.
When his feet stood on solid ground, Megs jumped into his arms. “We did it!”
He held her tight, kissed her deep and slow, the moment too sweet for words.
Tourists. Photographers. A microphone in their faces.
“How does it feel to be the first people to free-climb Half Dome?”
Megs glowed. “It feels great.”
Mitch couldn’t quit smiling. “It’s another beautiful day in the Valley.”
“Give them room! Come on!” Gridwall stepped forward, a huge smile on his face, a large paper bag in hand, the other dirtbags trailing behind him. “Way to go! I figured you would be hungry and thirsty, so I brought sandwiches and water.”
Megs cracked open her water, chalk on her nose, sweat beaded on her forehead. “Gridwall, you’re not such a jerk after all.”
Megs held Mitch’s hand,the joy of that memory bringing a bittersweet ache to her chest. “It means a lot to me that you wrote more about the connection between us than you did the nuts and bolts of the climb. That’s what I remember, too.”
The two of them lying side-by-side on Big Sandy, talking about the stars. Mitch holding her all night. Gridwall bringing his peace offering.
