Short Cut
by Pat Black
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: None.
Description: After taking a tumble of a thousand feet or so, a young hillwalker comes to his senses.
_____________________________________________________________________
The man was on foot when we found him at the bottom of the mountain. He seemed quite embarrassed to have caused such a fuss, and refused medical assistance. We gave it to him anyway.
Once all vital signs were accounted for, he got a biscuit-wrapper blanket, a quick flight on a helicopter and a cup of tea back at the visitor centre. The cup of tea, at least, was welcome. I wanted to send him to hospital for an X-ray on his head just to be sure, but the initial assessment confirmed what we’d already thought. He was – incredibly – fine.
“You know,” I said to him, after putting the stethoscope away, “I’ve known people to die after they’ve fallen the length of themselves. Perfectly healthy young men, slipping on ice. Hitting their heads. Game over. You go and fall... what, two thousand feet?”
“More than that.”
“More than two thousand feet. And there’s not a scratch on you.”
“Must be my lucky day.” He drained his mug.
“Another?”
“If you’re buying.”
I got him a refill at the visitor centre coffee dispenser, taking in the view out of the big windows. There was the Ben, dusted with late spring snows, the rocks showing through like stubble, sheep dotting the lower slopes, the trees yet to bud. Conditions had been fair today, poor yesterday. What happened up at the summit to this boy could have been one of those wee accidents that we have to deal with every now and again. People come up here in all kinds of weather. Some even come up when common sense would tell you not to bother; when the snow has fallen, or when the wind’s strong enough to blow you a kiss and lift you up off the mountainside. People who have a bone to pick with God.
Usually when they come off the top of the Ben, there’s no biscuit wrapper blanket on offer, no cup of tea, and the atmosphere in the helicopter ride back to the lights and warmth isn’t the same.
This lad had drawn a crowd. The canteen girls couldn’t help but look over at him. He was a big, good-looking fellow and that may have accounted for it. Or maybe there was some other kind of curiosity.
“How’s Superman?” Agnes said to me, as I paid for the teas.
“I think it’s still to hit him.”
“Lucky boy.”
“I wouldn’t be too quick to say that. He’s still to catch up with his girlfriend.”
He was staring out at the glen when I came back to him, lost out in the view. “Penny for them, then,” I said.
He took the mug, warmed his hands with it. “I was just thinking how today was one of the best days of my life, before I fell. I mean, the going was hard and all that, but I’ve known harder. Lovely clear day. Lots of blue sky. You know some days you get the feeling, when you hear the birds singing... there’s something in you that just knows the spring’s coming? That the sun is on its way back, that the light will be back with us, soon?”
I nodded.
“Well, that’s how I felt. We saw the sheep. We joked about the spring lambs, and we talked about how the cairns looked like snowmen the further up the path we got. Even when this place is bleak and the land seems dead... it’s still gorgeous. Maybe that’s when it’s most beautiful. I don’t think there are too many places in the world where you could say that. Do you know what I mean?”
I wasn’t sure I did. “’Course,” I told him. “’Course.”
“I was thinking to myself, ‘this is the kind of place where I’d propose to my girlfriend’. Not a fancy hotel, or New York, or Paris. Somewhere like here.” He drew a hand across his mouth and tears glittered at the corner of his eyes.
“Take it easy,” I said. “You’ve had some day. You can always go back up there. It was just an accident, that’s all. And hey – someone was looking after you, mate. You can take that as a sign, if you like.”
He nodded, swallowing. “When I went off the edge of the cliff.... it didn’t seem real. I mean, I don’t think I’ve fallen off anything higher than a diving board before.”
“How did it happen?”
“I’m not sure. I remember we were near the summit... We could see the cairn. And I saw the raven. It always seems to be the only living creature up that high. I saw the texture of its wings. It looked old; its feathers were rough. I had taken a couple of pictures and I told everyone I just wanted to take a look over the edge. There’s that one place where the drop is sharpest. Lots of jagged rocks around.”
“I know it. I’ve been there a few times myself.” It was the sort of drop that seems to creep up on you, not the other way around.
“I looked down and I could just make out the sliver of the river through the gap. I remember thinking all that reddish earth in the valley below looked dodgy. A man could get stuck in that. Eileen gave me a shout, told me to be careful. My footing gave way, and the next thing I knew I was doing bicycle kicks in thin air.”
The hubbub from the canteen girls had completely gone; everyone was staring at him.
“On the way down... I did scream, I know that. The side of the mountain rushed past me. I could see every detail. The lichen on the rocks. The play of the light on the snow. The trunks of the trees and the bushes clinging to the side. Waiting for the sun to come back.”
“It’s okay. Take it easy.”
“And there was something in me that kind of realised what was happening, and that everything was over. I felt calm when the ground rushed up and the detail on the floor of the valley got clearer; all the rocks and the tufts of grass breaking through the snow.
“I remember thinking the mountain would have been the right place to propose to Eileen. And that’s when I hit the ground. Or rather, the snowbank.”
“See?” I said, chuckling. “It’s still the best day of your life, isn’t it? Not everybody walks away from something like that.” I patted his arm.
My phone went, then. It was one of the mountain rescue staff, who’d been co-ordinating the rest of the group’s walk down the hillside.
“They’re just outside,” I told the lad. “There’s a young lady quite keen to say hello, I gather.”
So he went out to meet her and we all watched from the big windows. You can imagine the scene for yourself, I suppose. The hugs, the tears.
“He sounded doolally,” said Agnes from the canteen, at my side. “You sure he didn’t bang his head on the way down?”
“Nah, he’s not doolally,” I said. “Not by a long way.”
Swearwords: None.
Description: After taking a tumble of a thousand feet or so, a young hillwalker comes to his senses.
_____________________________________________________________________
The man was on foot when we found him at the bottom of the mountain. He seemed quite embarrassed to have caused such a fuss, and refused medical assistance. We gave it to him anyway.
Once all vital signs were accounted for, he got a biscuit-wrapper blanket, a quick flight on a helicopter and a cup of tea back at the visitor centre. The cup of tea, at least, was welcome. I wanted to send him to hospital for an X-ray on his head just to be sure, but the initial assessment confirmed what we’d already thought. He was – incredibly – fine.
“You know,” I said to him, after putting the stethoscope away, “I’ve known people to die after they’ve fallen the length of themselves. Perfectly healthy young men, slipping on ice. Hitting their heads. Game over. You go and fall... what, two thousand feet?”
“More than that.”
“More than two thousand feet. And there’s not a scratch on you.”
“Must be my lucky day.” He drained his mug.
“Another?”
“If you’re buying.”
I got him a refill at the visitor centre coffee dispenser, taking in the view out of the big windows. There was the Ben, dusted with late spring snows, the rocks showing through like stubble, sheep dotting the lower slopes, the trees yet to bud. Conditions had been fair today, poor yesterday. What happened up at the summit to this boy could have been one of those wee accidents that we have to deal with every now and again. People come up here in all kinds of weather. Some even come up when common sense would tell you not to bother; when the snow has fallen, or when the wind’s strong enough to blow you a kiss and lift you up off the mountainside. People who have a bone to pick with God.
Usually when they come off the top of the Ben, there’s no biscuit wrapper blanket on offer, no cup of tea, and the atmosphere in the helicopter ride back to the lights and warmth isn’t the same.
This lad had drawn a crowd. The canteen girls couldn’t help but look over at him. He was a big, good-looking fellow and that may have accounted for it. Or maybe there was some other kind of curiosity.
“How’s Superman?” Agnes said to me, as I paid for the teas.
“I think it’s still to hit him.”
“Lucky boy.”
“I wouldn’t be too quick to say that. He’s still to catch up with his girlfriend.”
He was staring out at the glen when I came back to him, lost out in the view. “Penny for them, then,” I said.
He took the mug, warmed his hands with it. “I was just thinking how today was one of the best days of my life, before I fell. I mean, the going was hard and all that, but I’ve known harder. Lovely clear day. Lots of blue sky. You know some days you get the feeling, when you hear the birds singing... there’s something in you that just knows the spring’s coming? That the sun is on its way back, that the light will be back with us, soon?”
I nodded.
“Well, that’s how I felt. We saw the sheep. We joked about the spring lambs, and we talked about how the cairns looked like snowmen the further up the path we got. Even when this place is bleak and the land seems dead... it’s still gorgeous. Maybe that’s when it’s most beautiful. I don’t think there are too many places in the world where you could say that. Do you know what I mean?”
I wasn’t sure I did. “’Course,” I told him. “’Course.”
“I was thinking to myself, ‘this is the kind of place where I’d propose to my girlfriend’. Not a fancy hotel, or New York, or Paris. Somewhere like here.” He drew a hand across his mouth and tears glittered at the corner of his eyes.
“Take it easy,” I said. “You’ve had some day. You can always go back up there. It was just an accident, that’s all. And hey – someone was looking after you, mate. You can take that as a sign, if you like.”
He nodded, swallowing. “When I went off the edge of the cliff.... it didn’t seem real. I mean, I don’t think I’ve fallen off anything higher than a diving board before.”
“How did it happen?”
“I’m not sure. I remember we were near the summit... We could see the cairn. And I saw the raven. It always seems to be the only living creature up that high. I saw the texture of its wings. It looked old; its feathers were rough. I had taken a couple of pictures and I told everyone I just wanted to take a look over the edge. There’s that one place where the drop is sharpest. Lots of jagged rocks around.”
“I know it. I’ve been there a few times myself.” It was the sort of drop that seems to creep up on you, not the other way around.
“I looked down and I could just make out the sliver of the river through the gap. I remember thinking all that reddish earth in the valley below looked dodgy. A man could get stuck in that. Eileen gave me a shout, told me to be careful. My footing gave way, and the next thing I knew I was doing bicycle kicks in thin air.”
The hubbub from the canteen girls had completely gone; everyone was staring at him.
“On the way down... I did scream, I know that. The side of the mountain rushed past me. I could see every detail. The lichen on the rocks. The play of the light on the snow. The trunks of the trees and the bushes clinging to the side. Waiting for the sun to come back.”
“It’s okay. Take it easy.”
“And there was something in me that kind of realised what was happening, and that everything was over. I felt calm when the ground rushed up and the detail on the floor of the valley got clearer; all the rocks and the tufts of grass breaking through the snow.
“I remember thinking the mountain would have been the right place to propose to Eileen. And that’s when I hit the ground. Or rather, the snowbank.”
“See?” I said, chuckling. “It’s still the best day of your life, isn’t it? Not everybody walks away from something like that.” I patted his arm.
My phone went, then. It was one of the mountain rescue staff, who’d been co-ordinating the rest of the group’s walk down the hillside.
“They’re just outside,” I told the lad. “There’s a young lady quite keen to say hello, I gather.”
So he went out to meet her and we all watched from the big windows. You can imagine the scene for yourself, I suppose. The hugs, the tears.
“He sounded doolally,” said Agnes from the canteen, at my side. “You sure he didn’t bang his head on the way down?”
“Nah, he’s not doolally,” I said. “Not by a long way.”
About the Author
Pat Black is a thirtysomething writer, journalist and bletherer, born and raised in Glasgow. He says he has made that difficult transition from aspiring novelist to failed novelist, although he has had a couple of short stories published. He’s the author of Snarl, a completed novel about a monster that tries to mount the Houses of Parliament. Holyrood emerges unscathed, for now.